Novels and Education (repost)

Here's an old post on Northanger Abbey-still relevant!

When I heard that my proposed course on Jane Austen had been accepted for Expository Writing, I was thrilled. Austen is fun and the way her works remain popular presents fascinating questions for exploring contemporary culture and for thinking historically. And, of course, I love reading and teaching novels!

Novels play a significant role for students majoring or minoring in English literature. But the Expository Writing program is a general requirement; everyone takes it, or its equivalent. And classes need to to be not only interesting but widely valuable for a college student. Is it valuable to read novels? Does reading novels help you become a better writer? How useful is reading a novel going to be for, say a business major? Or a chemical engineer?

I struggle some with these questions every semester. But I remain convinced that these questions can all be answered with a firm YES. Interestingly, they are similar to the questions Austen herself asks in Northanger Abbey. In that novel Austen seems to suggest that the novel might play a role in the education of young people. When Catherine expresses astonishment at Isabella's deceptive character, Henry jests about her not having much experience: "Among all the great variety [of characters] that you have known and studied," he observes ironically (142). Perhaps, novels might teach their readers something about the "great variety" of characters in the world--and about those to avoid.

That probably sounds too simplistic--even if one considers how quiet and isolated life was before easy transportation and mass media. Catherine is innocent, but are we really meant to perceive her understanding as entirely limited when it comes to the obvious deceptions Isabella weaves through everyday conversation? Maybe.

But the "lessons" for the novel reader don't bear a one-to-one relationship to the lessons the characters within the novel learn. Particularly when those lesson apply, as in Austen's case, to social norms and modes of life long past. But maybe learning about that past is, in itself, important? Novels do not provide the facts of history; but, as Austen herself point out in Northanger Abbey, sometimes history needs the approach of the novel to keep it interesting. Eleanor finds the "embellishments" of historians to pleasurable and they seem to contribute to her understanding of the events (74). Reading the novels of the past can work to help us understand the ideas and the problems of the past on an individual level rather than from the perspective of the grand sweep of political and military history.

That deeper understanding of history may not be precisely pertinent to writing a business plan, or working out a chemical formula, but it does help make the reader a more generally educated person. I would argue further--although I don't have time right here--that reading novels gives one a larger vocabulary of words and ideas for understanding the world. And, while very few of those taking writing in college go on to be novelists, reading novels provides a deeper understanding of how language works and that produces better writing in all endeavors.

Novels and the Brain

What happens when one reads novels? Are novels bad for the reader? Are novels particularly bad for readers who are young women? These questions were being asked and discussed in the late eighteenth-century when Austen wrote Northanger Abbey. And her novel takes up these questions quite directly. I'm not going to discuss Northanger Abbey right now, but I wanted to point out some of the ways these issues are being debated today.

Scholars who study cognitive science are looking at what actually happens in the brain when the individual is reading literature. Here are some articles in the popular press about those studies.

For Better Social Skills, Scientists Recommend a Little Chekhov

This is your brain on Jane Austen

How Literature Changes Your Brain for the Better

How Literature Changes Your Brain for the Better, part 2


For another (much less scientific) direction in this conversation about what people should--or should not--read, try googling phrases like "should girls read Twilight" or "50 Shades of Gray censorship." There are still people out there trying to control or limit what others read.

And on that note, I want to remind everyone that September 21-27 is Banned Books Week. Check out the website.
http://www.bannedbooksweek.org

On the website you can find this list of the most challenged books in 2013:

1. Captain Underpants (series), by Dav Pilkey
   Reasons: Offensive language, unsuited for age group, violence
2. The Bluest Eye, by Toni Morrison
   Reasons: Offensive language, sexually explicit, unsuited to age group, violence
3. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, by Sherman Alexie
   Reasons: Drugs/alcohol/smoking, offensive language, racism, sexually explicit, unsuited to age group
4. Fifty Shades of Grey, by E.L. James
   Reasons: Nudity, offensive language, religious viewpoint, sexually explicit, unsuited to age group
5. The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins
   Reasons: Religious viewpoint, unsuited to age group
6. A Bad Boy Can Be Good for A Girl, by Tanya Lee Stone
   Reasons: Drugs/alcohol/smoking, nudity, offensive language, sexually explicit
7. Looking for Alaska, by John Green
   Reasons: Drugs/alcohol/smoking, sexually explicit, unsuited to age group
8. The Perks of Being a Wallflower, by Stephen Chbosky
   Reasons: drugs/alcohol/smoking, homosexuality, sexually explicit, unsuited to age group
9. Bless Me Ultima, by Rudolfo Anaya
   Reasons: Occult/Satanism, offensive language, religious viewpoint, sexually explicit
10. Bone (series), by Jeff Smith
    Reasons: Political viewpoint, racism, violence

(From bannedbooksweek.org http://www.bannedbooksweek.org/about)

What I Like About You

The perception that writing is "all subjective" is one I have to fight all the time. Many students seem to have received the impression that getting a good grade in writing classes is about "what the teacher likes."

I can't help but wonder if this comes from various seemingly arbitrary rules. The "I" rule is one. Many writing teachers simply ban it. That is probably easier than explaining the appropriate ways to use it--and the pitfalls of relying on it in argumentative writing. Other teachers come up with lists of "pet peeves"; these are often rules and conventions that are somewhat flexible--or, perhaps undergoing change, since language does change--and for which the teacher has a preferred form. A common example of this is the use of gender neutral language. (Here's the Grammar Girl's take on that one.)

What would we poor writing teachers do if we had to explain ourselves EVERY time one of these issues comes up? Language has so many rules and so much flexibility and changes so constantly that we can't always articulate every single reason why one word works in a sentence where another sounds awkward, why a comma rule that holds in most cases can be tossed in others, or even why sentence fragments are sometimes just fine. As soon as I've explained that the most common English sentence follows a Subject-Verb-Object pattern and that this pattern is the easiest for the reader to grasp, a brilliant sentence shows up that utterly contorts that pattern and works. Do I mark this down to be consistent and avoid the "just liking" it accusation? No.

Rules never seem to take into account context. Is the writer deliberately choosing a fragment? Or, is the writer unable to recognize sentence fragments? I'm pretty sure that I can tell the difference--I'm a highly trained reader of texts, after all, and I have a specialized knowledge of language that allows me to make informed judgements. Can I explain why a "mistake" or breaking the rules in one case is fine and works, but needs to be corrected in another? Probably. Will I always explain? Probably not. Does that mean evaluating writing is all subjective? Absolutely not.

Ah, all those little rules--of which, as linguists point out, we only know a portion--make for some big confusion about "good" writing. Here is one definition of good writing: a well-reasoned, thoughtful, insightful argument supported by evidence employed in a rigorous and responsible way. It's not subjective, but neither is it simple. And that complexity may just add to the trouble!

Revision is Really Writing

Getting a first draft finished feels good. Perhaps it is disheartening, then, to realize that a first draft is only the tiniest of first steps towards a finished essay. As a writer, I really love the revision process--I'm one of those writers who finds it hard to let go of a piece of writing (blogging is good practice in letting things go before they feel really finished; if you want to read a post about my process, click here). Tinkering with my ideas, moving sections around, developing the relationships between sections, and, finally, editing for clarity and precise language--this is what I love about writing. 

I'm not going to try to convince you to love revision. But I AM going to try to convince you take the process seriously. Here is what a few of the pros say (with thanks to John Trimble for the first two and the last):

From Nora Ephron, Revision and Life, “ in The New York Times, reprinted in The Writer magazine, April 1987.

In my 30’s, I began to write essays, one a month for Esquire magazine, and I am not exaggerating when I say that in the course of writing a short essay--1,500 words, that’s only six double-spaced typewritten pages--I often used 300 or 400 pieces of typing paper, so often did I type and retype and catapult and recatapult myself . . .*

 From an interview with Ernest Hemingway in the Paris Review:

Interviewer:  How much rewriting do you do?

Hemingway:  It depends.  I rewrote the ending of Farewell to Arms, the last page of it, thirty-nine times before I was satisfied.

Interviewer:  Was there some technical problem there? What was it that had stumped you?

Hemingway:  Getting the words right. *

From Anne Lamott:

For me and most of the other writers I know, writing is not rapturous. In fact, the only way I can get anything written at all is to write really, really shitty first drafts.

This is from Bird by Bird. You can read an excerpt of this here.

And then there's editing. This is Oscar Wilde:

All morning I worked on the proof of one of my poems, and I took out a comma; in the afternoon I put it back in.*

I love the way Wilde's comment underscores the stylistic choice one might make about the comma (sometimes; sometimes rules must be followed). As facetious as Wilde perhaps is, this little quip also indicates how seriously a writer should consider every single choice, large or small. Re-seeing those initial choices is what revision is all about.

*Quoted in John Trimble, Writing with Style (Upper Saddle River, Prentice Hall, 2000, 1975), 6, 99.

Definitions

If you were in class on the first day and participated in the scavenger hunt, you should have some sense that I consider many issues up for debate: What is meant by "popular adaptation"? By "text"? By "image"?  It was interesting to see that "image" meant "what we think about Austen" to some students; when I wrote that I was thinking, more literally, of pictures we have of what she looks like! Both definitions, of course, are right. The key--as always--is in defining your meaning. Language is so flexible. There might be many ways to understand and use a single word depending on its context.

I was struck by a similarity between Elizabeth and Mr Bennet along these same lines. As Mr Bennet is slowly revealing that he has, indeed, met Mr. Bingley, he notes the "A fortnight's acquaintance is certainly very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a fortnight" (4).* The joke, of course, is that he does know Mr. Bingely and the family also will have known him for a few weeks by the time of the assembly. But Mr. Bennet's likes to philosophically meditate on meanings. What does it really mean to meet someone? When we say we are acquainted, does that mean we know him? What is the difference between knowing and being acquainted? These are questions that the novel itself takes up in the relationship between Elizabeth and Darcy, which begins as a somewhat strained acquaintanceship but develops into love.

After the assembly ball has taken place, as Elizabeth and Jane are discussing it, Elizabeth comments on Jane's inability to be critical of others. She calls this quality "candour" and carefully distinguishes Jane's candour from that of other people's: "Affectation of candour is common enough--one meets with it everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or design--to take the good of everybody's character and make it still better and say nothing of the bad--belongs to you alone" (8). Elizabeth voices one of Austen's criticisms of the hypocrisy her society by noting that many people pretend to be candid; within the specific context here, she also reveals one of Jane's important character traits. This moment turns on a carefully situated definition.

What would happen to these two moments if Mr. Bennet or Elizabeth simply pulled out a dictionary and said "According to Johnson, the definition of acquaintance/ candour is . . . "? I argue that the moments would lose much of their power and interest. The definitions provided by Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth work within the context of the novel to lead us to some significant issues.

So what does all this have to do with writing? One of the important elements of writing an expository essay is defining your terms. Many students seem to take that as meaning opening the dictionary and copying the meaning. But, as I hope this tiny comparison of two moments in Pride and Prejudice suggests, working to define terms on your own--within the context of your own project--may have larger payoffs.


* Page numbers refer to the course-packet; The text of Pride and Prejudice being used is from Project Gutenberg.

Highlighters Anonymous

I am writing to day to ask you to stop using your highlighters. Or, at the least, give some reflection to HOW you use them.

When you are writing about a text--and by writing I also mean THINKING, not just pulling out a summary or a few facts--you need to be open to the way a text changes each time you come back to it. Something that didn't seem important on a first reading might significantly change your understanding on a second read. Your eye will be drawn to highlighted text--that's the whole point. But as you focus exclusively on what you've highlighted, you might neglect the surrounding ideas. That might be fine for some kinds of texts, but it isn't good for texts that you are writing about. If you've highlighted the text, it's harder to experience the way your ideas about a text evolve and mature.

And highlighting is basically passive. You are just drawing lines.

Annotating, on the other hand, is active. It requires more thinking because it requires you to use language. Annotation might include some underlining or circling of words, but good annotation will be words and phrases written in the margin (or in a notebook). Annotation should provide you with a record of your thoughts while reading--and that is more useful than a bunch of bright green lines! Not that color is bad--I annotate in bright reds and pinks so I can easily find my notes.

When I go back to re-read and write, I can find the places easily (time saver!), but the text itself isn't covered with highlights, so I can truly re-see the whole thing--and make more annotations as new ideas develop.

Here are a few tips for making useful annotations. While I would argue that good annotation will give you a deeper understanding of ANY reading material, by "useful" I mean useful if you are planning to write about the text you are reading. So, if you are driven by efficiency rather than intellectual curiosity (alas), at a minimum this kind of annotation will save you time when you start drafting your exercises and essays for this class.

• Mark words or concepts you don't know or understand. Stop periodically and look them up. WRITE the meaning next to the word/ concept on the text itself (if it's a borrowed book, use a post-it). We don't fully digest new terms until we've encountered them a few times; writing a definition down is an important step in truly learning the new term. 

• Write a brief summary of each paragraph off to side (or in your notebook). Or, stop every few paragraphs and do the same.

• Write down your questions. This is really important. Maybe you don't understand the text well enough to write a summary. Starting to ask questions will help. On the second reading you might surprise yourself by being able to answer them!

• Make note of turns and sections. Has the writer shifted to a slightly new idea? How does it fit with what came before?

• Pay careful attention to the beginning and the end. 

• Find the thesis statement in an argumentative texts. Mark the thesis statement. ( I usually put a bracket along the side of page and write "TS.") If you've marked the thesis statement, you can easily return to it when things get confusing along the way. Try to rephrase the thesis statement in your own words in the margin or in your notebook.

• Finally--and MOST IMPORTANTLY--make notes of YOUR RESPONSE. Are you excited, interested, intrigued by the ideas? Do they make you angry? Why? What would you like to say to the writer? Your responses are the seeds of your writing. Plant them.

I'd love to hear more tips for annotating--or maybe even arguments about uses for highlighters.

Worth Repeating

(This is a post from last year, but it's worth a re-run.)

Around the time the first draft of the first essay is due I start hearing questions that all start the same way: Can I . . . . ? The student then, almost inevitably, voices a "rule" about writing that he or she is worried about breaking: Can I use I? Can I use "you"? Can I use "we"? Can I use contractions? Can I use the word "because"?

The answers are: Yes, No, Yes, Yes YES!

Actually, the answers are all YES. I only make a tiny exception for "you" because it is difficult to use well and even more difficult to use it and maintain a sufficiently formal academic style.

I really hate these kinds of rules. Yes, of course, you (breaking the "you" rule here) have to abide by the basic grammatical conventions of standard English. But otherwise, there's an awful lot of ambiguity and flexibility in how we use language. Why put up obstacles to expressing meaningful ideas with all of these little rules?

More disturbingly, students frequently ask some variation of this: "Can I actually tell my reader what I'm trying to argue?" I know that some writing instructors come up with lists of rules and "Don't use the first person" or "Don't use contractions" might be on that list. But, "Don't tell your reader what you are up to"?!

Somehow, somewhere along the line, students get the sense that writing is about a set of tricks and isn't about trying to convey meaning to a reader. One the most literal level, I think students have been told to avoid "metacommentary"--saying what the essay is doing or arguing ( I will argue that . . . This essay will then look at . . . .). I fail to understand this rule given that most PUBLISHED academic essays use metacommentary extensively. If your ideas are complicated, giving your reader these concrete handhold really helps.

I also worry that this belief that writers have to disguise their ideas under fancy terms or convoluted sentence structures and follow a bunch of arbitrary rules means that beginning writers are afraid to fully engage in the messy work of drafting BEFORE editing. All of these rules can makes a writer stop and second guess every sentence before she has even worked out the main substance.

Stopping to take a breath and write "Okay, what I'm trying to say here is . . . ." can lead to great revelations. If you been taught to avoid using the first person or to avoid using metacommentary, you've been deprived of this tool. You can always go back and take the main idea and edit out the thinking. But do the thinking first!

So, whatever it is, if it helps YOU say what YOU want to say--yes, you can do that.