As I began to read chapter 10 in Ancient Rhetorics for Contemporary Students, I was at first rather excited. I thought to myself, Ah, here is a chapter that I already have a pretty strong foundation on. Oh, how hasty of me! The further I read the more complex and vocabulary laden the text became. And while some of the terminology was familiar, some of it was not; thus, I found myself immersed in a quagmire, flipping back and forth in the text to revisit an unfamiliar term and remind myself of its meaning when I met it later, writing out some of the unfamiliar terms for quick reference (after I wised up), and applying vocabulary I was already familiar with as a substitute for the unfamiliar terms (such as dependent clause for colon and phrase for comma). I found it quite a challenge to differentiate between my own use of terms such as period (the mark of punctuation) and period, the ancient term for sentence. To keep it all straight was a prodigious task. But plod on I did, and, by doing so, took away a few important observations about the nature of style and the role of audience in the stylistic choices one makes.

Crowley and Hawhee note, “Correctness [means] that rhetors should use words that [are] current and should adhere to the grammatical rules of whatever language they wrote” (329). How sensible, or rather common sense, to suggest that we should use the language that is familiar to our audience because these are the words currently in use and, thus, will facilitate the ability of our audience to follow and comprehend our message.

In terms of clarity, the authors suggest that a rhetor should “use words in their ordinary or usual everyday senses unless they had some compelling reason to do otherwise” (330). So not only should I use familiar words, but I should use them in familiar ways. The authors further demonstrate how audience can change how words are used depending on the rhetorical situation. In other words familiarity depends on the audience and situation. For example, it would be most effective to address a group of physicists with the scientific language that is part of their discipline and which they have come to expect when speaking about issues related to the field. As noted by Crowley and Hawhee, such use of the jargon of the field lends a certain precision. However, to use the same language with my college classes would likely confuse, disinterest and dissuade my audience from listening to what I had to say.

Through the discussion of the third quality of style, appropriateness, I came to understand that a rhetor must know his audience as well as the right time to address this audience with the subject at hand (kairos). As an example, my students were recently charged with the task of taking a random broad topic and narrowing the topic to a significant point of argument. One group very nicely demonstrated this idea of appropriateness by choosing to take the topic on healthcare and addressing the issue of vaccinating to prevent whooping cough. Such a direction might not seem appropriate if not for the fact that there has been a significant increase of cases of whooping cough seen in our local community is recent months among a wide range of individuals of varying ages and circumstances. A rapt audience was likely, given the time and place for the argument.

Looking at the final component of style, ornament, I was struck especially by the point made regarding the effect of ornamental language: “For when our audience finds it a pleasure to listen, their attention and their readiness to believe what they hear are both alike increased, while they are generally filled with delight and sometimes even transported by admiration” (335). This seems to suggest that such figurative language can almost create a pathetic appeal, even as it provides clarity through imagery. Such language draws attention to itself by its unusualness and detail (similar to architectural structures and the stylistic features that seem to catch the eye more than others). If we are to believe such an observation, then perhaps we must ask does such langauge cajole a reader into going along with an idea more because of how it is iterated rather than because of what is iterated? Earlier the authors seem to contradict this notion of emotional impact of ornament by quoting Cicero who says that plain style is “stripped of ornament” and “to the point, explaining everything and making every point clear rather than impressive” (334). So is ornament simply eye candy that entices the reader, draws him in and keeps him going. Again, what I think it comes back to is audience, purpose, and time and place. The rhetor has to understand whom he is addressing, what he hopes to accomplish, and the rhetorical situation. Therefore, in some situations, heavily ornamented language can fail to have the intended result.

While I can see that choice of such figurative language can be purposeful, I couldn’t help but think about my own writing and speaking and my lack of close attention to my own use of ornament and other language patterns. Perhaps it is familiarity with language and habitual use that allows a more natural disposition for using these figures of language. Alas, when I got to the end of the chapter, I found Crowley and Hawhee seem to agree: “If you use these patterns regularly in your own writing, they rapidly become second nature” (372).

On a concluding note, I found the brief comments on thesaurus use interesting, for who among us has not used a thesaurus for exactly the reasons the authors suggest we should not—to avoid repetition of a particular word. However, their point resonated with me since I have been witness to the results of ill-chosen synonyms by students who failed to understand that “synonyms are not pure equivalents” (342).

Just for fun, I decided to rewrite the paragraph above, substituting in synonyms from the Microsoft Word thesaurus. As students often do, I selected the “fifty-dollar” words to see where it would take me.

I instituted the epigrammatic comments on thesaurus utilization, for who amid us
has not exploited a thesaurus for unerringly the rationale the authors advocate we
should not—to circumvent replication of a fastidious word. However, their summit
vibrated with me since I have been spectator to the consequences of indelicate
synonyms by students who futile to appreciate that synonyms are not uncontaminated
counterparts.

Whoa! Say what?? Yet this is precisely what can occur (although, hopefully, not to this degree) when students make arbitrary and uninformed word choices.

Perhaps next time the issue of thesaurus use comes up in class, I can whip out the above example and let the students have a go at it. I believe it will speak louder than any admonition might.