Presentation: Further Reading. To guide your revision, you will update your to-do list and propose a revised abstract for the final project revision. You will also identify one key rhetorical or logical element of your writing and one grammatical or stylistic element of writing that you will revise and improve. You will post a 1 page summary of both elements that offers the class examples and guidelines. In a brief (5 minute) presentation in class, you will teach us what you have learned and how the rest of us might learn from your further reading. Your presentation (and 1 page summary posted, linked to this page) should thus include three elements:
- Revised Abstract: what your new argument will be, what approach you plan to take to the older project(s), how you plan to do that.
- At least one Rhetorical/Logical element of writing you will focus on–with reference to how we all can improve this element of writing. Link to a resource we can consult to learn more about it. Provide an example from your writing that applies to this element. [Consult the first two sections of our rubric for these logical and rhetorical elements of writing, as well as previous revision workshops]
- At least one Grammatical/Stylistic element of writing you will focus on–with reference to how we all can improve this element of writing. Link to a resource we can consult to learn more about it. Provide an example from your writing that applies to this element. [Consult the third section of our rubric for these grammatical/stylistic elements of writing, as well as previous editing workshops]
Post this summary of your revision plan to your blog. Then copy the link to this page. Be prepared to present to the class these elements of further reading and learning that you are pursuing as part of your revision.
Final Project Portfolio
Putting it All Together: The Rhetoric of Creative Reading
Revision, as we have emphasized in each of the writing projects this term, is not so much “fixing” our writing and reading as taking it further. In that sense, writing represents a continual feedback loop of experimentation and recombination. There is more we can do, or might do, or should do, or would do–if only we had more time. The final project obliges you to take that time. This is your final exam. The components are:
- Essay: You will write a 5-7 page (double-spaced, standard 12pt. font, etc) essay that revises and expands upon something you have already begun in one or more of your previous writing projects.
- Learning Focal Point: Revision. Your task is to revise this essay: go back and go further with your reading, your thinking, your writing. The revision should reflect substantial development and change, not merely editing. Revision involves taking a risk with your thinking and writing.
- Presentation: Further Reading. To guide your revision, you will update your to-do list and propose a revised abstract for the final project revision and identify a writer from the course who you select as a mentor. You will also identify one key rhetorical or logical element of your writing and one grammatical or stylistic element of writing that you will revise and improve. To conduct this further reading, consult resources such as Guide to Grammar and Writing, Purdue OWL, and others listed on right side of this blog. To identify these rhetorical, logical, and grammatical elements of composition, refer back to our Rubric and the Keywords from the course. You will post to your blog a proposal (250-500 words) that includes the following:
- revised abstract of your argument + indication of which writer from the course (anyone we have read) you select as your writing mentor, and why: what aspects of writing do they demonstrate that you would like to develop?
- rhetorical/logical element of your writing you will develop: with guidelines, examples to explain; provide a link/citation to the resource
- grammatical/stylistic element of your writing you will improve: with guidelines, examples to explain; provide a link/citation to the resource
- in a brief (5 minute) presentation in class, you will teach us what you have learned and how the rest of us might learn from your further reading
- Publication: Portfolio. You will publish your final project on your blog, in a new post called “Portfolio.” This portfolio will include: your final revised essay, the earlier version of the writing project you are revising, plus a 2 page (approximately 500 word) Preface. You will also submit a final version of the project (along with the preface) to Canvas.
- Preface: Your preface is an expanded abstract and self-reflection, serving as the introduction to your portfolio. After providing the abstract of the argument in a short paragraph (as you have done with each writing project), you will reflect on the work that went into the revision–what you have attempted to do with the essay, why and how you revised it, what you believe you have achieved with this writing. You should pinpoint 1 or more of the key aspects of the revision you have pursued. The Self-Reflection should also reflect on your progress and achievement as a writer and reader this term overall–what you have worked on (that to-do list I keep talking about), what you have achieved, what you want to keep working on in the coming semesters at Washington College. In other words, what does this portfolio represent of the work you have done this semester and the writing and critical reading you plan to continue in the coming semesters?
- As always, your final version of the essay should include proper citation format for any references and include the statement of the Honor Code.
This final project in revised reading and writing tests your progress with the three main objectives of this course (remember those?): developing critical reading; developing thoughtful writing; developing effective writing. Those objectives, of course, are ongoing; but your final project should demonstrate your development in those areas–in contrast, say, with the last ‘paper’ you wrote in high school or the first essay you wrote in this course.
The project also provides an opportunity for publication–what we do and want to do (in different forms and forums) as writers. For example, you might consider submitting this essay for consideration by one of the numerous publications on campus that highlight student work–and include critical writing, are not limited to fiction or poetry. Those publications include The Medium, The Collegian, and The Washington College Review. Alexandra Smythe’s essay, “I am a Reader, I am a Writer,” was published in the WCR–and was a final project from this course a few years ago.
The projects also provides an opportunity for you to put to work the rhetorical focal points we explored and practiced with each project. In a preface to a final project, a former student wrote this review of those focal points, informed by Joseph Harris’s terminology and our use of his book Rewriting:
When Coming to Terms with a text by another writer, I then make three moves:
- Define the project of the writer in my own terms,
- Note keywords or passages in the text,
- Assess the uses and limits of this approach
In Forwarding a text, I begin to shift the focus of my readers away from what its author has to say and toward my own project:
- Illustrating: When I look to other texts for examples of a point I want to make.
- Authorizing: When I involve the expertise or status of another writer to support my thinking
- Borrowing: When I draw on terms or ideas from other writers to use in thinking through my subject
- Extending: When I put my own spin on the terms or concepts that you take from other texts.
Countering– Three main ways of creating a sort of critical distance:
- Arguing the other side: showing the usefulness of a term or idea that a writer has criticized or noting problems with one that she or he has argues for.
- Uncovering values: Surfacing a word or concept for analysis that a text has left undefined or unexamined.
- Dissenting: Identifying a shared line of thought on an issue in order to note its limits
Revising-My aim is instead to describe revising as a knowledge practice, as a consistent set of questions you can ask of a draft of an essay that I am working on:
- What’s your project? What do you want to accomplish in this essay? (Coming to Terms)
- What works? How can you build on the strengths of your draft? (Forwarding)
- What else might be said? How might you acknowledge other views and possibilities? (Countering)
- What’s next? What are the implications of what you have to say? (Taking an Approach)”
When you make an argument in writing you are participating in an ongoing conversation. One of the primary ways that conversation takes place in writing is when you quote other critics and views, bring them into your argument, and in some way work off them: come to terms, forward, counter, take an approach. Because this conversation is taking place in your writing, it is important that you clearly identify things such as: who is speaking, which part of the argument you agree with, where you would disagree. These signals are words and phrases that you can revise and edit into your essay. I adapt the following templates from the book They Say/I Say: The Moves that Matter in Academic Writing by Gerald Graff and Cathy Birkenstein.
Introducing Quotations: X states (argues, believes, asserts), “………..”
Explaining Quotations (a way to begin your follow up): In other words, X believes…..
[Disagreeing with reasons] X’s claim that ___________ rests upon the questionable assumption that _________.
However, by focusing on ________, X overlooks the deeper problem of ___________.
[Agreeing with a difference] X’s view of ____ is useful because it sheds insight on the difficult problem of __________.
[Agreeing and Disagreeing] Although I agree with X up to a point, I cannot accept his overall conclusion that __________.
My feelings on the issue are mixed. I do support X’s position that ________, but I find Y’s argument about _________ equally persuasive.
Of course, many will probably disagree with my assertion that _________.
Yet some readers may challenge my view that _______. Indeed, my own argument seems to ignore _________.
Yet is it always true that ________? Is it always the case, as I have been arguing, that __________?
Although I grant that _______, I still maintain that __________.
In classical rhetorical, this introduction of a counterargument is called Procatalepsis or prolepsis–refuting anticipated objections.
Useful Metacommentary (ways of talking more directly to your reader about your argument)
In other words, _________.
Essentially, I am arguing that _________.
My point is ________.
My conclusion, then, is that __________.
Saying why your argument matters (template for larger implications/resolution)
This argument has important consequences for the larger issue of ___________.
Although X may seem of concern to only a small group of _______, it should in fact concern anyone who cares about ________.
A poorly signaled argument can often lead problems with logos (evidence, logic) known as logical fallacies. We have focused on counterargument with the third writing project as a way to strengthen our logos, our handling of evidence. Recall that “countering,” as Harris terms it, doesn’t mean simply letting “the other side” have a say or merely disagreeing with an opposing view. That may be how argument on cable television (unfortunately) works these days, but it isn’t what academic argument is about. Rather, countering means locating a thread or idea or implication in another’s argument that will be useful to the development of your own argument. This oppositional or contradictory thread may be useful in locating a potential weakness of your own argument–a point that your reader might expect you to consider and possibly refute. The thread may well point to a weakness in the other’s argument that you can use to elaborate your own. In other words, you might find language in an argument that you don’t agree with but can put to work.
Given this view of countering, I have suggested that focusing on counterargument can serve as an effective revision strategy. After completing a draft that focuses on developing your argument, you can revise your argument by giving more time to the terms of another’s argument that contends or contradicts your own. One way to evaluate this other argument–and by extension, to reconsider the structure of your own–is to pay attention to its logic. Below are some common errors in logic that you might find in another’s argument (and therefore useful for countering) or may well find in your own. These errors are known as logical fallacies:
Ad hominem: At the man; attacking the person instead of his or her argument.
Ad populum: At the people; appealing to the people’s emotions, prejudices, etc.
Ad Authoritate: Appeal to authority; using a celebrity rather than expertise as authority.
Post hoc, ergo propter hoc: After this, therefore, because of this; faulty cause and effect, jumping to conclusions.
Non sequitur: It does not follow; conclusion does not extend from the argument.
Circular logic: Begging the question; using a statement to prove itself.
False dilemma: Giving only two options in a situation when others may be possible.
False analogy: Argument based on incomplete comparison.
Faulty generalization: A conclusion that inappropriately makes a claim for all based on conclusions about a few.
Hidden premise: An unexpressed assumption, hidden agenda.
Reductio ad absurdum: (reduction to the absurd); argument in which a position is refuted by following its implications logically to an absurd consequence.
Special Pleading: Basically, invoking a double standard–arguing that a particular case is an exception to the rule based on an irrelevant characteristic that is not in fact an exception.
Tu Quoque: Turning the criticism back onto the critic.
For a comprehensive listing, see Taxonomy of Logical Fallacies.
Some additional digital tools for editing to consider–ways to go hyper with your text!
In addition to our reading into countering in Rewriting, this page from Harvard’s writing program on some of the basics of counterargument is useful. If countering in general terms means challenging or resisting or–as Harris puts it–finding the useful limitations of a critical perspective or assumption, then counterargument is when the writer turns the countering onto his or her own perspective. It is a rhetorical move in critical writing–useful in exploring, anticipating, and answering the limitations of one’s own argument.
An argument, as we have seen, in effect is a counter to a previous argument (or view, idea, understanding, position) that you believe is limited, in need of further thinking, if not rethinking. Thus, counterargument helps us clarify our argument and its stakes–the problem that we are addressing and responding to. For more on stakes in an argument, consider these approaches–and the ways that you might counter others, as well as counter your own argument toward clarifying and strengthening what you are arguing for:
1. Challenge an initial read.
2. Challenge a published view.
3. Explain an inconsistency, gap, or ambiguity.
4. Explain unexpected conclusions.
5. Intervene in a debate.
6. Point out how a piece of evidence encapsulates a larger issue.
7. Point out how an insignificant moment is actually critical.
8. Point out the limits of the existing literature.
9. Point out a problem others don’t usually see.
Here is an example of counterargument (placed as last body paragraph) by Shana, a writer from a previous class.
For this project, counterargument is an element that needs to show up in your essay, a rhetorical element we are focusing. However, counterargument can also be useful as a composting and revising strategy, as you move from ideas, to outline, to draft, to revised draft. It gets at one of our 4 revision questions: What Else? Imagine another perspective that is out there, or a different perspective from yours, or a perspective that your emerging argument responds to (a basic need for any argument or thesis). In other words, considering counterargument can help you sharpen the focus, purpose, stake of your argument and essay. So use the counterargument exercise (what’s the opposite of my argument? who disagrees with me and why?) to go back to your thesis and refine; to draft out an introduction; to revise one or more of your body paragraphs (strengthen by further complicating); potentially, to find a different and stronger argument.
If the opposite of your initial thesis/hypothesis turns out to be stronger or more compelling than your thesis, that’s a good thing–and a good thing to know in time to revise and change your essay and argument.
In the electronic poem “the dreamlife of letters,” the phrase “polymorphous possibilities” floats and twirls around the screen. The poem is grouped in the Ambient text section of the archive. This type of text is described in this way:
Work that plays by itself, meant to evoke or engage intermittent attention, as a painting or scrolling feed would; in John Cayley’s words, “a dynamic linguistic wall-hanging.” Such work does not require or particularly invite a focused reading session.
I think this particular text, and this kind of text (ambient), represents something larger about electronic literature that you are likely to experience as you explore this new media type of literature this week. “Dreamlife” is interested in “letters.” All verbal texts are, to some extent. Some texts more than others. This one takes its interest more deliberately, and perhaps (so I might argue) more fervently, than many others. When you read–or watch–this poem, you witness the polymorphous possibilities of language. The poem reminds us, it seems to me, of the fact that any poem, any text, is made of such things. And made from the possibility of making and unmaking words and combining and moving letters.
It doesn’t “invite a focused reading session.” This is true. And yet, poetry is hard for many people, readers and non-readers alike. Consider the poem “Poem” by Charles Bernstein–a well-known, academic poet (and a co-founder of the Electronic Poetry Center at SUNY Buffalo). Is it so different from “Dreamlife”–except that it is static? Might we think of reading “Dreamlife” more like listening to a song: moving and morphing along? Does the poetry (or more broadly, the literary) reading experience need to be difficult? Must it be a focused reading session? What about, instead, an experience of reading? “Ambient” suggests that the environment and the experience of the text and its reading (its watching, its playing…) matters more than a conventional view of focusing on the meaning within a text.
Focus is a concern for Sven Birkerts; it point to a difference between linear print texts and many, if not all, of the electronic literary texts available at the archive. But what if focus implies, or derives, from participation rather than concentration? Isn’t poetry difficult, in part, when we are sitting too quietly or silently, waiting for it to speak to us? Consider some of the Oulipoems [constraint-based texts] which invite reader activity while also working something like a mad-libs game. It might surprise you, but these computer-generated texts are based on print poems from the mid-twentieth century, including the famous “Hundred Thousand Billion Poems” by Queneau. Andrew Piper refers to this group of poets in his chapter “By the Numbers.”
Can or should the experience of reading literature be something like a game? Or an algorithm? Can composing literature–poem or story or essay or argument–be processed like information, combined and re-combined like numbers or letters in a slot machine? What if it already is?
Or, perhaps hypermediacy means the hyperactivity of print culture, rather than its disappearance. Recall what Murray says–electronic text is the child of print culture. Here is one text, as sort of nightmare of digital communication: Out of Touch.
A text by Moulthorp (the hypertext author Birkerts reads in his chapter) titled Radio Silence–showing an interest in the ideas of play (rules for reading) and the interest in pattern.
A well-regarded hypertext–that emphasizes a different kind of linking nonlinearity: The Jew’s Daughter.
For links to other literary hypertexts, visit HTLit: Literary Hypertext.
- Hypertext Fiction (diginarrate.net)
- Writer as Artist // ELO // Curating & Exhibiting Electronic Literature Workshop (hastac.org)
- Event: Electronic Literature Showcase at the Library of Congress (hastac.org)
In his chapter “Hypertext,” Birkerts continues his exploration of the differences between print and electronic texts, between words on a page and words on a screen. In “Into the Electronic Millennium,” he emphasizes the difference as one between linearity (print) and association (electronic)–earlier in the book, this opposition was described as depth versus shallowness. Here, turning his attention to a literary hypertext created for a digital environment (Moulthorp’s Victory Garden), he continues the opposition, focusing it on a difference between process and product. As he puts it succinctly,
Writing on the computer promotes process over product and favors the whole over the execution of the part. (158)
Moving forward from page to screen, he believes, we move backwards from the book as a product to the process of writing and producing it. Along with this “profound” and “consequential” shift from literature and product to writing as process, Birkerts argues, “provisionality” is promoted and the traditional goal of the writer (he mentions the French novelist Flaubert) is lost. Attending to this loss, the reader of the book, turned into “process” at best, at worst a “sophisticated Nintendo game,” loses his or her sense of the private self (164).
These are familiar keywords Birkerts uses in his argument: process, product, privacy, provisionality, perfection, potential. My criticism and concern for the implications of his argument might best be focused by adding another ‘p’ word to his list: pedagogy. It seems to me that in worrying about the ways that writing’s process becomes, potentially, revealed in a digital or electronic environment, Birkerts really worries the potential that anyone might become a writer. Here, my disagreement with Birkerts sharpens most into focus. In my view–recall, I am a teacher of writing, and a writer still learning my trade, as every writer does–provisionality and process are necessary ingredients for learning. One learns by learning the process; one writes by producing writing, not by having written, by having a product. The reader is always ready to turn into a writer, as Walter Benjamin put it in his essay on the “Work of Art in the Age of Technological Reproducibility.” We thus participate in writing. And participation is yet another concern, and another ‘p’ word, that Birkerts discusses. Instead of that, he wants to return to a time when the author perfected his writing by creating books that, in Birkerts’ phrasing, overpowered the reader.
Perfect, that is to say, completely finished, books might exist–though I haven’t read one. But even if they do exist, the problem becomes, for the writer, for the learner, how to get there while being imperfect? For learners, perfect books are dreamed of and always never written. Isn’t that what happened to Birkerts? These are some of the thoughts and concerns I take into the final pages of his argument and our initial exploration of electronic and hypertext writing.
I used Google Books, by the way, to do some keyword searching–for example, in Gutenberg Elegies. Here is an example (the word process appears 45 times).
As we explore more directly hypertext fiction and poetry this week, consider some basic background for hypertext fiction of the sort that Birkerts encounters. It is from that massive hypertext encyclopedia you know well, Wikipedia. Consider that as both the problem and potential of hypertext literary reading: what if novels or poems read like entires in Wikipedia: in what ways does that change literature? Here is the entry for Hypertext Fiction. We can also think back to McLuhan’s argument, one that I think Birkerts clearly has in mind, though he doesn’t directly quote from: the medium is the message; all media work us over completely. Birkerts believes that the author, not the medium, should be working the reader over. Hypertext, for him, is too much medium, not enough message. I assume he would say the same about the electronic literature archive–where the process, not the product, is on view in the ways the texts are described and categorized.
Do you agree? I agree somewhat. This means that I find both uses and limits in his argument that help me to think about ways to develop my argument by forwarding elements that I agree with, but also ways to complicate my argument by addressing places where I don’t agree–where I can anticipate how he would object and provide a response.
For a view and vision of hypertext literature that can be said to disagree with the vision of Birkerts (and strongly) by way of agreeing, consider Shelley Jackson’s essay “Stitch Bitch.” There she argues favorably that hypertext is “what we learned to call bad writing.”
Some rhetorical observations:
- Note the way Birkerts forwards the definition (from the Coover article he quotes) of hypertext promoting “co-learners” and “co-writers,” and then uses that to refute. This is a version of counterargument that begins with the concession–giving time to what you don’t agree with or will oppose, before turning to the refutation, why you argue against it.
- Note the way Janet Murray forwards Birkerts in her epigraph, using it as a contrast to McLuhan. Though she never directly refutes Birkerts, his voice is part of the concession she later offers and then refutes when she emphasizes that the computer is not the enemy of the book, but its descendant.
Hypertext literally means “over text.” The connotation is a text that is somehow over-stimulated in being a text. In digital terms, it means an electronic text that has a linking mechanism in which a reader has some agency in going to related texts and choosing from multiple pathways through a text. The world wide web is basically a massive hypertext.
Luminous Airplanes is a hypertext–calling itself a “hyperromance” or hypernovel. Actually, we are reading the digital extension of a print book titled Luminous Airplanes; the digital version picks up from the print version and in some way (I think?) forwards and extends it. Before the reader gets too far into the reading experience, we are confronted by choices and challenges as a reader. How should we proceed? Which path should we take? There is a story here: there is a narrative, there is a narrator, an initial event or conflict that seems to motivate things (a given, a problem, with the response being the writing of this narrative). What might be different for some is that this narrative–and the reader of this narrative–is never merely background or taken for granted. There is an interest in the reader’s participation. This is where the linking mechanism comes in. We have choices to make. But it should also be noted that this sort of literary experience–a narrator talking about the book we are reading, the reader in some form participating in the book as though it is being written with us–is not new to digital literature. This is a quality of postmodern literature that predates digital hypertext. Digital hypertext–we can call it with an ear to Birkerts, the fate of literature in the electronic age–extends, through digital means, a desire to write and read stories or texts in which the medium is the message. A postmodern book (like McLuhan’s) makes the reader mindful that she is reading a book. La Farge takes it a step or two further by extending his book into digital space: we can read about Luminous Airplanes (the book)–and even buy the book online–while we read Luminous Airplanes (the hypertext).
We have choices to make. By the second “page” of the narrative, we have multiple choices, choices that suggest we are in some way participating in the writing/rewriting of the very story we are reading. And by the third page, we are invited to “get lost” in the text–which, we learn, exists in multiple formats. (Think back to the multiple layers of texts in Frankenstein). But even that isn’t exactly the case, since we have a choice to navigate by way of a map–rather than go in the direction of pages, we can get rid of the “book” analogy entirely and follow a map that exists “outside of time and space.” One of the critical terms we will encounter for understanding the effects of digital hypertext is immersion and immersive text. It is no accident that Luminous Airplanes has a page titled “Immersive Text” and has its readers think about this concept while reading. And there is intertextuality (something now more familiar to us as readers), which in the case of the reference to “Rip Van Winkle,” suggests how the dismembering (and remembering) of various pieces of the story is also a theme within the story. In this way, the medium is part of the message.
The author Paul La Farge talks about immersive text in this short video interview found on his webpage.
This isn’t how we traditionally think of reading. But perhaps we need to find alternative verbs and participles for the activity we are doing. Perhaps it is better to borrow from other activities: navigating, playing, exploring, browsing, gaming. What else, what other analogies come to mind? And–my question for us to take up as we evaluate this literature critically: are these analogies for our reading completely beyond what we think literature and reading should entail?
Some other hypertext reading experiences you might consider….
“The Museum” by Adam Kenney, a hypertext novella that plays upon the idea of navigating story as an analogy for navigating a space such as a museum.
Emily Short, First Draft of the Revolution
- Links and Doubles. Note the ways this text from the beginning plays with the idea of a fluid text in which writing is doubled and linked. Have you read other texts–including texts that are not digital–in which the experience of reading is doubled or linked in some way? Unlike some hypertexts (following the logic of nonlinearity), this one does have an end.
- Participation. The reader’s invitation to rewrite this text while reading it. Participating as a reader, but also as a writer–for example, asking for more information. Think about ways Joseph Harris’ Rewriting provides insight. Or Janet Murray on immersion. Or McLuhan.
- Author’s Statement. For further reading on this text, see the author’s description and overview here.
Electronic Literature Collection [we will be reading from this collection next]
- Stretchtext: Spastext[Stir Fry Text] Material metaphor: focusing on writing, on the role of the reader.
- Another of the Stir Fry Texts, Correspondence–identifies the real materiality of language that the writers are interested in; think Jackson Pollock with painting. What are the paintings “about”? Some art critics would say: about painting, the paint, the painter’s (and viewer’s) interaction with this medium.
Some critical links
- Birkerts’s concern with hypertext as too much fluid process, the loss of authorial product, seems an obvious connection to most if not all of these hypertexts. Yet they also suggest to me an implication of fluid process that SB doesn’t address, one that I would consider to be a valuable and crucial aspect of literary reading, deep and otherwise: the reading is dynamic, it moves.
- For a contrasting view of hypertext as valuable, if still messy, in its process, consider Shelley Jackson’s discussion of her own hypertext, Patchwork Girl.
- Rhetorical Devices for Hypertext
Here is a platform called Twine that we can use to create a hypertext–that is, a non-linear, linked narrative, poem, essay or other sort of literary work you might conceive. In other words, a narrative that we might treat more like a game. [Thanks to Aaron for pointing me to this site]
Some help with how to create links in Twine.
Is playing with a text, as a writer and/or a reader, analogous to writing and reading a text? In what ways is playing comparable to writing and reading? Would you argue that these activities, playing and writing/reading, should remain distinct?
Some stories/games created with Twine:
“Howling Dogs” by Porpentine.
First Draft of the Revolution by Emily Short and Liza Daly
For links/discussion of other literary games, see Aaron’s post on The Museum.