Making the Most of Memory

I have decided, after reading our text’s discussion of the fourth canon of rhetoric, that if effectiveness as a rhetor relies on memory, I am in deep trouble. I am afraid age, time, information overload, and a number of other factors have had a serious impact on my memory (I appreciated the article on p. 388 that tells us that sleep facilitates memory consolidation, which, I guess, implies what sleep deprivation might do to memory). I must admit that I have listened intently to one of my teenagers’ stories from school, complete with names of people I don’t know, only to realize that later I cannot recall a specific detail of the story they have relayed, much to their disgust. It is not that I have not listened; rather, I believe, this situation represents a purposeful selectivity regarding what is transmitted to memory. Since I have evaluated the information provided and found it to be limited in its capacity to be useful later, I allow it to be quickly and easily forgotten.

So too, if I give credence to the key elements of memory that Crowley and Hawhee point to (concentration, repetitive exposure and association/classification) (379), one can see why these stories do not hold much weight when it comes to my remembering them, as my engagement in these activities during the storytelling is minimal.

I see this at work in my tendency to not remember things told in passing (gossip). Again, because such information seems unimportant, I do not take the time or make the effort to focus, review, or associate the information with something that might relate. This does not mean, however, that if someone mentions some part of the story later I won’t remember, but I would probably not be able to generate the story, or at least the details of it, on my own.

And yet, this chapter did trigger my memory when it came to the discussion of methods recommended for enhancing one’s artificial memory. A number of years ago I was employed part time at a post-secondary technical school, working with underprepared students. Part of their preparation for attending school involved an intensive two-week program of study strategies. Among the topics addressed in the course was memory strategies. Many of the suggestions provided in our text were among the techniques I incorporated in the class. For example, the association process of placing the items to remember in certain locations, which our chapter talks about, was akin to the Memory Walk exercise demonstrated in the class. Students were instructed to envision a familiar place (like a bedroom) and place the ideas or items they wanted to remember in a specific spot in the room. Later, by taking an imaginary walk around the room, they could remember what (and, of course, where) each item was.

Another technique that seems to mimic the concept of ordering that was discussed in our text was a grouping activity we did. Students on one side of the room were given a list of random words and had 2 minutes to study and remember as many as they could. Students on the other side of the room were given the same words and the same amount of time; the difference, however, was that the words with this second group of students were grouped by categories: fruits, weapons, animals, and so on. As one can guess, those with the categorized version of the list had a much higher rate of word recognition than the group with the random list, although those that had the random list who were able to identify categories also did well with their recollections. When I revealed why the students on the one side of the room did better on the task, students saw firsthand the power of memory and the potentiality for training one’s memory.

Still, my favorite memory trick was something called the Peg Method, an association/imagery method, again, similar to those discussed in our text. This method also seems to relate to the idea of organizational memory (382), as it uses a numbering system to order the items and help locate them at a later time. With this technique the rhetor already has a list of key words (pegs) upon which that which he wishes to remember will be hung: One, bun; two, glue; three, tree; four, door; and so on. The incorporation of a rhyme scheme also helps with the memory process. Let’s say I want to remember items to pick up on the way home from work. I would draw a picture in my head as I make an association between my peg and what I want to remember. Let’s say my list includes ketchup, bread, lettuce and bananas. I might imagine a bun (one, bun) filled with ketchup (the hotdog is missing). To remember the bread I would see myself with slices of bread stuck to my body (two, glue – the slices are glued to me). The lettuce would be the leaves on the tree (three, tree), and the bananas might be imagined as a wreath hanging on the door (four, door). As the text notes, “Teachers recommended that the images be vivid and strange enough to be remember easily…” (378), and these examples tend to satisfy this suggestion.

I usually demonstrated this technique to my class by asking them to give me twelve different items at the beginning of our class on memory. I didn’t tell them why. Using the Peg Method, I created my memorable associations for the words I was given. About three hours into the four-hour class, I would go to the whiteboard and write the 12 words on the board, much to the amazement of the class. When I then gave them the explanation of how I was able to remember these random items, they quickly realized that they too could train themselves to remember in this way. This method is one I still use when I have a number of things to remember, particularly if they are unrelated. I supposed that even though my gray matter is getting grayer, it, too, can still be trained.

The importance of artificial memory rings true for me when I consider my mother. Diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a number of years ago, her natural memory fails her more and more each day. To help her maintain some memory capacity, she attends sessions daily where she is taken through activities that help to stimulate artificial memory. These activities utilize some of the same key elements of memory that were discussed in chapter 11 and which are the basis of many of the memory techniques mentioned: concentration, repetitive exposure, association, classification, visual stimulation.

Moving on to other ideas from the chapter, the notion of memory as invention made a lot of sense as well (376). As I read this section of the chapter, I immediately thought back to when my children were little and would ask me to tell them a story. From my memories, constructed heavily by both narratives of my own experiences and what Crowley and Hawhee refer to as cultural memory (380), I could locate story ideas, interpret them in a way that would be meaningful for the children, organize them logically, and expand them in such a way as to create an entertaining tale.

I am often called to do something similar in the classroom when I need an example that will help clarify a concept I am teaching. Drawing on memory, I am able to locate a fitting example, interpret it as it relates to the concept, expand on it in an effort to make the message as clear as possible and present it in a manner that is organizationally sound. This example of the inventive nature of memory also seems to tie in well with the idea of kairos and memory that Crowley and Hawhee address. This particular moment/need for an example allows me to pull on the information that I have gathered previously, recognize its relevance to the current situation, and use it effectively to make my point. This inventive process is possible through our reliance on memory. I even think this inventive feature of memory is, in part, what allowed us to handle the laborious task of figuring out the maxims we looked at in last week’s class despite the challenging, unfamiliar wording.

And while today we do have the ability to store massive amounts of information through both written and electronic forms, I cannot stop thinking that such literate and electronic memory systems affect our natural ability to remember. How often do we hear the adage use it, or lose it. A trip to the grocery store will provide an apt example of what can happen when we allow ourselves to rely on these literate or electronic memory systems (consider the clerk who can’t make change when the electronic memory system is faulty). Likewise, when the need for a specific piece of information arises, one does not always have the time or the proper electronic equipment at the given moment to be able to look the needed information up. So while these literate and electronic memory systems have sort of taken the pressure off our personal memory systems, natural and artificial memory systems are still vitally important.

In concluding my comments on this chapter, I return to the story presented at the beginning of chapter 11. I cannot recollect (proof of my natural memory’s failings perhaps) where I had heard or read the story of Simonides, but I immediately recognized my familiarity with it. While fable-like in its presentation, it certainly summarizes well the most prominent theme of this chapter: the power of memory.

When I was an undergraduate, we had a class called Advanced Composition. I was most excited for this class at the outset of the semester, as I enjoy writing and figured I'd develop a natural rapport with both the professor and the material.

Oof. Was I ever incorrect.

The main focus of Advanced Composition was on grammatical history and usage. Don't all gasp in excitement at once. I had an extremely hard time getting interested in the course work, as I found it very dry and banal. That's why I found this chapter in ARCS so hard to delve into. Things were often broken down into the sentence level or smaller, which was difficult for me to gel with. Things like the antistrophe and an isovolon were very tough on me not only to understand but also to stay interested in. The example on page 337 describing the compound-complex sentence in particular gave me fits. This wasn't what I expected from a chapter on style, to be sure.

It's possible such concepts are difficult for me to enjoy because I don't entirely understand them. I don't know where I was mentally when grammar was taught in my formative years, but it certainly wasn't in the classroom. I have no idea what articles are, prepositions/prepositional phrases are foreign concepts to me, and generally I wouldn't be fit to teach writing to a third grader.

To me, writing has always been just something that happens intrinsically. I don't draft, I don't brainstorm, and I don't have a process. I sit down in front of a computer and just let my mind come out through my fingers. Maybe it's because I was in therapy a bunch when I was a teenager. I didn't really start writing (well, at least anything of value) until afterwards. But I did read a great deal when I was young. I even fell asleep to audiobooks around the age of six, something I still do to this day, much to my fiancee's chagrin.

I really don't know the rules of the game we call writing. I just know internally what sounds/looks right to me. If something looks or seems awkward to me, I can tell it's probably wrong. I know not to overuse punctuation and to vary my vocabulary, but most of the rules of writing I'm familiar with (either via instruction or immersing myself in the medium) are stylistic. Or at least I believed they were.

That's why my difficulty with this chapter was so vexing. I love style. I suppose it turns out I love arrangement more. Based on this definition of style, it's hard for me to plow through the pages, let alone have my mind absorb (even rougher: to understand) the concepts Crowley & Hawhee present in this chapter. It's one of those things I've shirked for so long that I think (unfortunately) that my brain is too set into its rigid pattern. What sounds right likely is and what doesn't isn't. I can't explain why rationally. Jaclyn always asks me how the hell I can write without basic knowledge of the building blocks of writing. She can't wrap her head around the fact that I don't even know what said blocks are called, let alone how they function, and yet I can be a decent writer.

I never really have an answer for her. I just can do it. It makes me wonder: Is writing better served as an intrinsic function of expression, as mine seems to be, or something that can be broken down, quantified and taught systematically?

I'm not sure of the answer to that. I know how I lean, but I'm obviously biased. It'll be something I hope comes up in class discussion this evening, that's for sure.

Chapter 10

As always…here’s my unorganized observations about the chapter: Now I know how my students feel at times – enough with the jargon. “Clarity”, “Correctness”, “Appropriateness”, “Style”, “Composition” are thrown around English classrooms and departments every day, but they certainly don’t carry the weight and specificity that Crowley and Hawhee’s usage does. Circumlocutions remind me a bit of euphemism, and I’m not sure I could define the difference between the two. Colloquialisms on the other hand, are easily distinguished. I try to avoid using that word in my class because it always gets me tongue tied. I know its meaning and how to say it, but I always mess it up. ON a side note: one of the characters in the show I was watching last night used to word, and I was impressed to hear it in TV dialogue.

The association of Kairos and style is a bit unclear to me, but I think it stems from my idea of appropriateness and balance. I understand the concept of balance in an argument, but how is that an issue of Kairos? In this same section, there is discussion about a rhetor’s sensitivity to community standards of behavior. While it is necessary to consider subject, occasion, and audience, I feel that this sometimes limits to potential of student writers. Students are often required to write for an audience that is not necessarily authentic. What is appropriate isn’t always as effective, so there are some limitations in instructing students to guide their appropriateness.

The paragraph on tropes made me think of Yoda. Isn’t Yoda practicing the type of trope that the authors call “rare?” The Churchill example has a motive and Yoda’s probably doesn’t, but is the goal about the outcome or the act of transferring words or phrases from their proper place to another? The second type, the one that transfers the meaning/significance of a word is much more common. As the chapter provides more specific types of and definitions for tropes, I was shocked at how little I actually know. I teach about and develop students’ use and understanding or a few of the tropes, but I felt ignorant as I read on. Even though I might have recognized them or referred to them as something different, here are the terms I never use: Antonomasia, periphrasis, hyperbation, catachresis. That’s 60% proficiency!

I hope to explore some of these devices and rhetorical tools in class tonight, because I’ve got much to learn. I look forward to tonight’s discussions. See you soon.

Rhetorical Style in Carranguera Music

This week’s chapter “Style: Composition and Ornament” made me think all the time about Colombian singer and songwriter Jorge Velosa. My research project in the HUM 500 class is about him. It was inevitable for me to make the connections of this week’s topic with his lyrics, music, and, in some way, philosophy. At the end of the 1970’s, Jorge Velosa got together with his friend Javier Moreno and decided to rescue the traditional music of the Andean region in Colombia. Together, they created a new kind of music that took the traditional instruments and rhythms of this particular region of Colombia and incorporated them with innovative lyrics. They named it Carranga or Carranguera. Throughout the years Carranguera music has consolidated as a new music genre.

The first connection I established between Velosa’s music and this week’s chapter was the discussion about kairos. Velosa’s lyrics show his awareness of kairos. Plato defines kairos as “the nature of the subject matter, the general attitudes and backgrounds of the audience”(331). Velosa’s music is created for the Andean peasants, and they are about their own lives and experiences. In his lyrics, Velosa tells anecdotes and quotidian situations that the peasants experience in their daily lives. A Carranga songwriter cited by Renato Paone in his dissertation La musica carranguera says “any situation of daily life can be sung by carranga. Carrangueros composers explain that all the songs are born of their own lives, their experiences and memories”. I think it is important to mention Velosa’s ethos. He is telling stories about the peasant’s lives, and he is himself a peasant. Even though he went to college and majored in veterinary, he was born in a small Andean town and was raised there by his peasant parents. Thus, he has experienced the stories he tells, he has lived them himself and the peasants admire him and enjoy his music for that.

At first, I thought that Velosa’s lyrics were written in a plain and simple style. Crowley and Hawhee affirm that this style uses “every day language” (333) which is what Velosa does. When you listen to his songs, you feel like you were listening to a peasant talk. He uses a lot of idioms and colloquial expressions that are typical of this region and its culture. These strong oral features of his lyrics are reinforced by the selection of the words he uses and the syntax of the sentences. As Crowley and Hawhee state it is “almost as though it were conversation” (333).

Although his lyrics use everyday language and syntax, they also use ornament. Thus, it could be also classified as middle style (333). In fact, his lyrics are composed in the form of coplas. The copla is a poetic composition that is frequently used in popular songs. Being a poetic form, coplas use figurative language. Velosa’s lyrics use many hyperbatons since he uses a particular word order when composing his sentences. He also uses personification when telling the story of “La pirinola”, a cow that drowns in a small creek in a way that is very common in this region. His lyrics also have sometimes a satiric tone. In these cases, he uses euphemisms or metonymy to exaggerate and make fun of situations. Additionally, his lyrics have metaphors, similes and hyperbaton. He uses these tropes to describe the landscapes, the main characters of his stories and the events that happen to them.

All in all, I thought that Velosa’s Carranguera music was a good example of a particular style that follows a specific kind of composition and ornament having, above all, its audience in mind. This particular style is the one that has permitted the peasants to identify themselves with this music, and feel it and enjoy it as with any other.

Chapter 10 Thoughts

Lots of ideas jumped out at me in this chapter. I'd like to start by discussing my thoughts on the trope, metonymy. I've always been interested in how regularly the media use metonymy in articles and headlines. For example just a quick Google search of the term White House yields some of the following results:

* Child Soldiers Backlash: White House argues continuing military assistance more important than enforcing law.
* White House Takes A Stand Against School Bullying
* White House Awards $2.4 Billion for Rail Projects

...just to name a few. If a person is not familiar with the use of metonymy, I can imagine the confusion created by use of this trope. To them, the building known as the White House literally argued with someone that military assistance is more important law enforcement. Or that the White House itself actually stood up on legs against school bullying. Or that the White House actually went to an ATM or got out its checkbook and wrote a check in the amount of $2.4 billion for rail projects. That's actually what the house wrote in the Memo.

When I used to work for the Department of Public Welfare in Chester County, we had to get things approved by individuals in higher supervisory positions based out of the DPW offices in Harrisburg. When I would take eligibility issues which I couldn't approve to my supervisors, once realizing this was out of their control too, they would say, "We need to call Harrisburg and have this approved by them." I obviously knew what they meant, but I used to always joke around with my supervisor and ask, "So am I calling the actually city of Harrisburg and having this giant monster-like creature in a city costume answer the phone and approve my eligibility issue? Or do you mean calling someone within the eligibility department, which just so happens to be in the City of Harrisburg??" I used to get the 'quit-being-a-smart-ass' look from my supervisor all the time.

Another favorite trope is the antonomasia. Since I am a music lover, there are tons of antonomasias in the music world. The Chairman of the Board, The Boss, The King of Pop, The Godfather of Soul, The Queen of Soul. If you Google search the terms exactly as I wrote them (and as they are commonly known), you get the following in order: Frank Sinatra, Bruce Springsteen, Michael Jackson, James Brown, and Aretha Franklin.

In Wikipedia, this isn't known as antonomasia, it's known as Honorific Music Nicknames. Which is basically an antonomasia for antonomasia: nickname.

Chapter 10 is a love/hate chapter for me. As a teacher, I love reading about figurative language and its origins. On the other hand, I’d hate to have a vocabulary test on all those terms! Even Robert J. Marzano might struggle to come up with strategies to remember them all! Love/hate aside, I found this to be an interesting chapter. Parts of it were confusing, particularly the section on sentence composition, mainly due to the fact that the ancients had different meanings for words we use to teach grammar. For example, a colon as a clause, a comma as a set of words set apart by pauses, etc. But for the most part, the whole concept of style and the ways to manipulate language through style are fascinating. In fourth grade, style is one of the domains on our writing rubric, and is probably the most difficult to teach. It’s one thing to teach a student how to form complete sentences, effective paragraphs, etc., but it’s quite another to teach them how to use voice and word choice effectively. This point leads to a part of the chapter that really caught my attention!

Given that I am working on Penn State’s Writing Specialist Certification, it really hit home when Crowley and Hawhee cited Linda Brodkey’s use of allegory, comparing the marking off of public smoking spaces to the marking off of writing spaces in American universities (p. 363). For purposes of “blogging space” I refer you to the second part of the example at the bottom of p. 363 and continuing onto p. 364, specifically, “While it seems to take longer in some cases than in others, composition instruction appears to have succeeded best at establishing in most people a lifelong aversion to writing.” Ouch! It’s painful, but unfortunately true. What a shame that students equate such an open avenue of emotional outlet to a punishment. I think this a big part of this is because teachers are not comfortable with their own ability to write, let alone their ability to teach students how to write. Idealistically, I believe there must be some way to encourage students to embrace writing while at the same time teaching them how to write effectively for purposes of academic assessment. In fact, since endeavoring to work on this certification, I’ve been reading everything I can get my hands on to figure out how to come up with a plan that will work for my school district. Whether or not they will share my enthusiasm remains to be seen.

Sorry – personal tangent…back to the text. As usual, I find myself thinking on a much deeper level about various aspects of language as a whole. (I guess the course is working...) While some aspects of the chapter seemed almost too deep, I really enjoyed the overall idea of breaking down style into meaningful “chunks” and analyzing how they work in everyday life. Politics and advertising top the list, as usual, but I’m looking forward to tonight’s discussion to make additional relevant connections.

The Art of Style

“Ancient teacher of rhetoric combined Aristotle’s philosophical view of language their Gorgia’s sophistic view to argue that rhetorical language ought to be clear and that it ought to touch the emotions as well.”

Prior to this chapter, I was having some difficulty reconciling the notion that the best, most effective arguments are those that are easily and readily accessible to mass populations. In particular, I was struggling to understand how things like satire, irony, and sarcasm can be components in an effective argument if they might make the message difficult to understand. Connecting to our discussion from last week, I personally gravitate more towards these types of discussions, articles, or humor. I find pieces with a little bite to them, so to speak, as more interesting and essentially more effective. But then, are these forms that have proven so effective with me, not appropriate in the realm of ancient rhetoric that prizes accessibility and clarity?

I always knew that the answer to this was no, but this chapter confirmed that for me. Using satire, irony, figurative language will not hinder your argument by making it inaccessible to the masses, but rather it will help you to reach factions of your audience more deeply than a more straightforward piece might. In order to be effective, language must excite emotion as well as represent a thought clearly (328). You, as a rhetor, must strive to not only have your message come across clearly, but also to have the message be able to speak for itself in encouraging the audience to take an active role in interpreting it.

In my opinion, the best way to excite this emotion, from reading this chapter, is to let your audience feel as though they are in on a secret. To encourage them to read between the lines and come up with their own deeper understanding of a message is a critical process a rhetor go through to make their arguments most effective. Then, the rhetor is not telling the audience how they should think, but rather allowing them the gratification in figuring out the deeper meaning of the message. Then it’s almost as though an exclusive club is made between the rhetor and audience. The audience becomes empowered and the rhetor becomes vindicated all through processing and delivering the same message.

Author Daniel Pink, in one of my favorite TED talks, said that autonomy, mastery, and purpose are the best motivators for people. It has been proven that intrinsic rewards such as these to which Pink refers are more effective than extrinsic motivators, as recently illustrated by the fact that teacher performance tied to cash bonuses have not proven effective in recent months. I think the same motivators can be said for crafting arguments. Allowing your audience the autonomy to self-motivate and process your message, providing the purpose for them to do so, and encouraging them to dig deeply in mastering an understanding of the overt and subvert messages in your work can provide an instant connection and motivation for them to accept your argument and understand your work.

As a teacher, I found the chapter on style to be informative; although, I almost felt as if I was preparing to take the English Praxis exam for a second time with all of those terms. I definitely learned a lot about the history of sentence structure. For instance, I did not know where the period and various punctuation originated.

When I first read the title of the chapter, I could not help but think about teaching style in writing. I also teach style in speaking, especially in speech class. The way that the speaker addresses the audience should obviously vary depending on the topic and background knowledge of the those listening. Unfortunately, we are living in a world where testing is overtaking education. However, one positive area of the writing portion of the PSSA is that style is one of the domains that is scored. Style is important in writing and is often the most difficult area to teach and successfully accomplish. When I grade an essay, style is often the lowest grade on the rubric because I do feel that style is an area that can always be improved. According to the PSSA Narrative Scoring Guidelines, which can be found on the Pennsylvania Department of Education website, there are various areas that attribute to style. In order to receive the top score in style, the rubric is defined as, “precise control of language, literary devices, and sentence structures that creates a consistent and effective point of view and tone.” All of these areas are addressed within the chapter on style.

Another section that I found to be valuable, was the section on repetition. The authors discuss how we are often taught not to repeat ourselves, but that it sometimes is an effective way to make a point. I agree with the authors to a certain extent. An established writer may use repetition successfully; however, many people simply sound as if they are repeating themselves. I teach students to avoid repetition but provide key words and phrases that support the thesis. Then, restate the thesis at the beginning of the concluding paragraph to draw the audience back to the originally stated argument.

Figurative language is introduced in elementary schools as figurative language. However, children are exposed to figurative language and tropes at a much earlier age, through nursery rhymes and books. I have mixed feelings about figurative language. I definitely think that it makes writing more interesting and can be quite witty and fun. But, outside of school, when are people asked to find the hyperbole in a sentence? Shakespeare uses a lot of figurative language in his writing, which often confuses people as well. Not only do they have to decipher the Elizabethean language, but they have to realize that he may not mean exactly what is written.

Overall, this blog was somewhat all over the place because there were multiple areas that I wanted to comment on. I am interested to see what we do with this chapter tonight. See you then.

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.

Light Bulb Moment # 2

This chapter was simply amazing. For some reason or another this week’s assigned readings in all my classes seem to be turning the light bulb on. Suddenly, ideas that on their own accord made sense are now meshing together and totally setting my mind a glow. Sorry, light humor aside, I really did find this week’s chapter insightful. I felt that this chapter’s main point was common knowledge (commonplace topics) that is shared between both the rhetor and listeners.

In my other ENGL class blog, I discuss a similar topic but it appears that both chapters this week want to drive home the point of how mutual understanding of the definition of words allows the writer (rhetor) to successfully interact with his or her audience. This understanding or recognition of “appropriateness conditions” (deciding what jargon is most fitted for the situation) allows a connection to be made between the rhetor and listener (Williams 181). In this blog, I would like to address how this mutual understanding between both the speaker and the audience is vital to the reception of the message. In other words, style is not just about conveying a message. Style is vital. If the rhetor is unfamiliar with which style is appropriate for his or her audience, the rhetor could risk sending out the wrong (failed or inappropriate) message and will be left having to invent and arrange a new speech to handle the new crisis.

Quintilian writes that “The verb eloqui means the production and communication to the audience of all that the rhetor has conceived… and without this power all the preliminary accomplishments of rhetoric are as useless as a sword that is kept permanently concealed within its sheath” (327). In this statement, Quintilian (and Crowley and Hawhee too since they utilize it) declares that the most important part of oration is actually writing it. In order to write a compelling speech, the speaker must keep in mind the audience is. Once he or she has formed a picture or has a firm idea of the audience members then the rhetor can start to assemble common examples and to utilize a shared vocabulary. Crowley and Hawhee agree stating that “For Plato, then, attention to kairos-the nature of the subject matter, the general attitudes and backgrounds of the audience-helped the rhetor make decisions about an appropriate style” (331-332). They also write that “the achievement of an appropriate style requires rhetors to pay attention to the conventional rules for verbal behavior in a given context, rules that have been laid down by their culture. If a rhetor has been asked to give a eulogy (a funeral speech), for example, his language should be dignified and subdued, because our culture dictates dignified and subdued behavior on such occasions” (332). This statement not only shows that the orator has certain key items to keep in mind (like the audience and the event) but he or she must also keep in mind the shared cultural norms as well. In some cultures, funerals are a joyous celebration and festive and all three factors (audience, event and cultural norms) would need to be addressed in the speech.

While reading about the cultural practices of a eulogy, my thoughts seemed to circle around the notion that the audience’s mood, the event and the cultural norms of such a situation were understood. In other words, a person knows how to make a eulogy because he or she has been taught what is correct and appropriate. However, what is understood in one culture is not understood in another. If a rhetor speaks about something that he or she assumes is a widely held (or understood) sentiment and the audience is not aware of it then there will be confusion between the speaker and listener which will effect the transmission of the message. I felt that the part of this chapter that highlighted the importance of this shared understanding between the speaker and audience members was the tropes part. Onomatopoeia is basically the description of noises. Crowley and Hawhee write that “Contemporary rhetoricians define onomatopoeia as words or languages whose sound emulates or echoes their sense” (357). They cite an example from an Alfred Noyes work and I could not help but to wonder at it. If an audience heard that lined read out loud it would have to be understood that they all had knowledge of what a “brook babbled and murmured” or “over the cobbles he clattered and clashed” would sound like (357). The author obviously wrote his book for a specific audience but it is understood that his audience has experience with these items and can agree that his description matches their experience and offers them a vivid image of the scene. However, what if a person or group of people had not heard these sounds before. How would this impact the writing and the reading? For example, where I taught, we had a great deal of inner city youth that were use to the sound of metal rattling and screaming sirens. To them, to their inner city culture these sounds represented nature and were natural. Many of the students had difficulty in reading books that mentioned nature and natural sounds because they could not grasp the concept of it. After a while, they would become frustrated with it and would eventually complain that they did not understand the book. For example, several of my students had issues reading Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice because of Austen’s descriptions of horses, the parks and nature walks. Many of my students were frustrated because they had no idea what she was writing about. For many readers, who share the same cultural understandings as Austen, they praise her for her use of vivid detail and delve into the book. Thus, one can see how if a speaker and audience do not have a shared understanding (or acceptable vocabulary) how one can easily become frustrated and turned off from the speaker’s message.

While the other tropes can also highlight the point that there must be shared understanding between a speaker and audience if he or she is going to utilize one or more of these items in his or her speech, I want to closely focus on two more. Antonomasia is basically a detailed nickname. Crowley and Hawhee write that “a rhetor substitutes a descriptive phrase for someone’s proper name (or vice versa) (357). This whole concept is completely based on a shared cultural understanding. For example, Crowley and Hawhee write that “Elvis is ‘the King’” (357). However, if a person used this in a courtroom, eulogy or wedding that in no way, shape or form has ties to Elvis many people would be confused about why it was utilized. A person who is not from the United States or into Elvis Presley music and history would have no idea who he is or why he is dubbed such a royal title. If a speaker and audience both share a common understanding of Elvis then the speaker will be able “to characterize the person he speaks or writes about in either positive or negative terms” (357). However, his audience will only be able to understand the message that Elvis rules or not if they share familiarity with the speaker.

The last trope that I want to touch on is metonymy. I view metonymy as a detailed substitute for a person, place or thing. Crowley and Hawhee write that a metonymy “(‘altered name’) names something with a word or phrase closely associated with it” (357). They use the example of “the White House for the president of the United States” (357). I am struck with how often newspapers, radio hosts and newscasters utilize the White House example. However, if a listener or viewer saw or heard this metonymy, I wonder what he or she would think. Since I have been conditioned to the term, I am unable to think of anything else but its connection to the President. This shows that I have been trained into the shared and understood knowledge of my culture. I have another example. While attending school, I worked as a receptionist at a local hotel in Chicago. My tag line was “Welcome to the … the Windy City’s coziest haven. Many of our customers were from all over and every now and then, I would have a couple of customers who had never heard of the Windy City. One time I had a couple that was so alarmed, they thought that they had been taken to another city and were about to cancel their reservations when I told them that they were in Chicago. I produced a map and explained that our nickname was the Windy City. The couple was obvious embarrassed and after calming down asked if Chicago had any other nicknames that they needed to be aware of. After a dozen or more similar situations, our manager allowed us to say the hotel name-in Chicago… the Windy City’s coziest haven. This example also supports Crowley and Hawhee’s point that tropes work only when there is shared cultural knowledge between the speaker and listener.

I really enjoyed this chapter and cannot wait for Thursday’s discussion. I apologize for the long post. There was just so much great information in this chapter!!!