Welcome to my newest readers, listeners, fellow bibliophiles, and educators!
In spite of weeks of intermittent rain in April and May, my rudbeckia will bloom early this year. I am eager for all of the flowers, especially as we prepare for our first son’s wedding in June!
from ye ol’ blog archives . . .
Teaching my students how to improve their own writing is no easy task. I emphasize content and typically focus on one to two stylistic elements per assignment. At the beginning of the school year, I quickly noticed that my seniors were overfond of the verb “use” in most any casual or formal writing assignment. We quickly built a synonym base for the word on the whiteboard and discussed connotations. For several months, I had them search and highlight the word, allowing for a single use.
As I worked on my novel these past months, my editor had to repeatedly teach me how to balance my use of active and passive voice in both dialogue and narration. Repeatedly. It took a number of attempts for my brain to get it. And practice was very much a part of the process.
My point is that it often takes mini-lessons like these as we each take steps in our writing or even speaking. And that is when writing style guides can be such a help. But forget writing classics like Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style. The concept of spelling out rules with writing examples was tackled well before the 20th century. Think of Aristotle’s Poetics in 4th century BC. Though he focuses on drama and epic, he does address the use of language and a playwright’s diction.
But I would be remiss if I didn’t also consider a short but splendid stylebook of the first century, one that considers the written and spoken word. More than our contemporary guides, Cassius Longinus explores the motive of the writer. Why is he writing? What is his end? But more importantly, can we attain sublimity of language? Are we capable of learning it?
A lofty passage does not convince the reason of the reader, but takes him out of himself. That which is admirable ever confounds our judgment, and eclipses that which is merely reasonable or agreeable. To believe or not is usually in our own power; but the Sublime, acting with an imperious and irresistible force, sways every reader whether he will or no.
In On the Sublime I especially enjoy how Longinus speaks of the artistic turn of phrase, the creator's craft, as he cites concrete examples from Homer, the Bible, Sappho, Herodotus, Aristarchus, and so on. The sublime is a simple term that implies so much. The "loftiness and excellence of language" remain the ideal in writing as opposed to fluff or bombast. And yes, Longinus, fully discredits those as false writing.
I think today we would call that emotional or reactionary writing. Bombast is simply writing that goes too far. The writer recognizes the need to be original in his use of description and goes overboard. Longinus eventually calls it pathetic. It seems everyone wants to be original. Too true.
In Part XV, Longinus provides real examples from Homer, Sophocles, and others that we can imitate. Grand language and perfectly crafted imagery are praised most, but his third and fourth principles are the most practical. Combine figures of speech or rhetorical devices for the most effect. A “close and continuous series of metaphors” is distinctive. Use conjunctions intentionally. Arrange your words in a certain and best order.
There is so much more to his advice and criticism, but I especially appreciate Longinus’ analysis of a writer’s style. After we have picked at all the parts, how do we determine what the best writing is? His final pages explore this very question—
Is it not worthwhile to raise the whole question whether in poetry and prose we should prefer sublimity accompanied by some faults, or a style which never rising above moderate excellence never stumbles and never requires correction? ... these are questions proper to an inquiry on the Sublime, and urgently ask for settlement.
And Longinus finds it hard to do. At first, he says a reader can discern an innate harmony within an essay. The reader simply knows it is sublime writing. But then, Longinus provides several examples of what sublime language is not. In other words, good writing remains to this day something easy to recognize yet hard to define.
Around the web
At my secondary school, students turn their cellphones in at the beginning of the school day. At the end of school, what always strikes me is how eager they are to scan everything on their phones right away. They might be checking for a parent update, but really, they want to know what they missed, as if school were some getaway or break in the middle of real life. That bothers me, and that’s why I was keen to read Jonathan Haidt’s The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness.
Alas, I haven’t grabbed a copy yet, but I have been seeing reviews everywhere since it released in March, and I have read articles on Haidt’s Substack, After Babel. In Haidt’s view, our society is thinking about technological risk the wrong way. As he summarizes: “We are overprotecting our children in the real world while underprotecting them online. If we really want to keep our children safe, we should delay their entry into the virtual world and send them out to play in the real world.”
If you haven’t read his research or essays, jump on to his About page and scroll to the bottom for essays like The Case for Phone-Free Schools or The Teen Mental Illness Epidemic Is International, Part 1: The Anglosphere.
On my nightstand
The Marva Collins’ Way by Marva Collins and Civia Tamarkin (1982). One of my teachers lent me her copy, and I dove right in as school ended. I am enjoying Marva’s biography as much as how she spoke and taught in the elementary classroom. So many gems.
A Lively Kind of Learning: Mastering the Seminar Method by Jeannette DeCelles-Zwerneman (2017, 2023). Whether we call it a Socratic circle or table discussion, the seminar method Zwerneman of Cana Academy describes is an absolute favorite tool when leading high school students through a text. It very much sounds like the Harkness method in practice.
As always, thanks for reading and listening! And don't forget that the List Library at my website is always available to you, my readers.
Christine