Final Thoughts

My research methods for this class were rather sporadic.  I didn’t exactly have a specific publication that I was interested in throughout the semester, so my approach was to simply plug in the most bizarre key words I could think of and see what I could find.  Looking back at all of the articles I’ve gathered over the semester, I do wish that my approach had had been a bit more coherent. Like some of you have done, I believe my research findings (and now my final paper) would have benefited from a more strategic research approach. Needless to say, and as many of you may remember from throughout the semester, my findings are all over the place. When deciding which research to share with class, I usually just picked the most bizarre instance that I could find.

Fittingly, the magazine that has appeared most in my research, and the one that I will most likely be writing my final paper on, is the American Magazine of Wonders. AMW usually appeared somewhere in my research queue, especially considering I searched terms like “turk and beard” and “imaginary angel.” Perhaps my most bizarre finding is from the second volume of AMW in an article titled “A Remarkable Anecdote of Ali Mustapha, the Outrageous Turk.” What first strikes me about this piece, and really all pieces from this publication, is the title. How could you not keep reading? Everything you really need to know is right there in the title, as the rest of the article goes on to verify that this Turk certainly is “outrageous.” As you may remember from class, this is the story of the Turk traveler who fell asleep only to wake up with his beard on fire and then subsequently murdered every person on his boat. The ending, again, is hilarious, as it reads like an obituary for the turk: “He died three days after this at Sen, in consequence of the wounds he received from the pistol, September 6, 1787.” Great stuff.

And the other article from AMW was “The Prodigious Force of Imagination,” which tells the story of the depressed Portuguese man who was visited by a fake angel that told him to forget about his depression and to be happy. Again, this article ends on a note that feels abrupt and comedic: “Soon after he found an appetite to his meat, eat heartily, slept quietly, and enjoyed himself as formerly, without ever relapsing into his late indisposition” The rhetoric of these two pieces, and from others that I’ve read from AMW, strikes me as mildly sarcastic and humorous. Through further research, I hope to discover what this publication’s intent was, and if readers would have taken its articles seriously. As a modern reader, these bizarre stories come off as silly depictions of foreign stereotypes, but I’m curious how American readers would have read them.

On a separate note, I was able to trace a few connections in my research on “heathens” and “ghosts.” Back when “heathens” was our area of research, I found an article from the Free Enquirer titled “Eternal Punishment for the Heathen” in which the author ridiculed the notion that many Christians believe that those “heathens” who have never heard of Christ will be damned to hell. If we cannot, the writer says, be more progressive in our thoughts, then “we must look to the next [generation] for clearer heads and better hearts.” Then, an article from the Christian Register titled “Mischievous Effects of Belief in Ghosts”, the author points to the problems with the “heathen” belief in ghosts and spirits. To close the article, the author writes, “This tremendous catalogue of crimes and miseries would be swept away, were men contended to go to Jesus Christ for the knowledge of a Future State, and to ground their hope upon the doctrine of the Resurrection of mankind at the last day. “Essentially, this author argues that it’s okay to believe in ghosts, but you just have to believe in the right kind of ghosts (Jesus and the resurrected body).  Again, I found the rhetoric in both of these articles interesting. While one—a non-Christian publication—calls for a more progressive and humane treatment of “heathens,” the other—a Christian publication—looks at yet another reason why the “heathens” are doomed to hell.

Above all, the research from this semester displayed an intriguing writing style during this time period. When we shared our findings in class, it seemed as if we often laughed at the things we were reading. When read aloud, the rhetoric had a tendency to come across as comedic, or at least non-serious. Of course, it wasn’t the case that these writers weren’t writing about serious topics, but for some reasons their tone and rhetorical style often comes off as silly and unserious. I’m not sure why this is, or if any of you also feel this way, but I found this to be fairly consistent.

An Extensive Republic: Novels

Because this is my last reading response, I figure I might as well provide some final thoughts on my experience in this course...

As I've mentioned in a previous blog, I truly feel like I've learned a lot on this class. The readings have enriched my understanding of print culture in the early republic, and I've got a solid foundational understanding of how the novel functioned during this period.

The reason I know this is because the first 2 to 3 pages of Barnes's chapter felt like a condensed version of everything I had learned this semester. As I read, I simply wrote check marks next to each passage because it was only confirming something that I had previoulsy read. This is a good sign, too, as I begin work on my final research project. In order to write something substantial on a historical period, it's best to have as good a background understanding as possible--this course has done just that.

And as for this week's reading, there was one passage that brought up a completely new idea and made me think about the "voice" of American writers in a completely different way. We've heard all of the arguments and details on how Americans struggled to create a distinct national voice, but we really haven't gotten to the bottom of this issue. Barnes does just that…or at least she gives some reasons why.

The part I find most intriguing is when Barnes discusses how Americans felt "enslaved" by their shared language with England. Barnes writes that we can attribute "the deplorable state of American literature to his countrymen's subservience to English culture. A common heritage and, more ominously, a common language threatened to 'enslave' American authors to the 'influences' of the first and more powerful nation from which the United States derived" (445). I had never thought of this before: American writers were hesitant to create their own voice because they had no means of linguistically differentiated themselves from the mother land. This is a somewhat silly question, but it made me wonder if Americans ever considered adopting a new language, or even creating a new one.

Naturally, this chapter got me thinking about what defines our literature as "American" today. Is there a literary theme (like sentimentality in the early republic) that can be categorized as truly American? Or has technology and globalism done away with the ideas of a national literature? Can something like literature have the same impact today as to be able to create a national identity? Nothing really comes to mind for me in lit, film, music, or any art form, that defines our nationality, but maybe I'm just not thinking hard enough about the question…but what do you all think? I'm interested in your responses.

An Extensive Republic: Ch 8

One particular part of Dobson and Zagarell's chapter that struck me is when they note that women were discouraged from participating in "almost every manner of pubic discussion." The key word here, in my mind, is "discussion." Discussion, in those times, literally meant public, verbal discourse, and as Dobson and Zagarell not, women were simply unable to participate. When I think of that term "discussion" today, I typically associate it with writing. For example, the texts we've read in this class take part in an ongoing "discussion" on the role of print in the early American republic.

Women couldn't participate in those literal discussions, but through writing they were able to find a contributing voice. Dobson and Zagarell write that because women were beginning to appear in print, they acquired a "public presence" and "gave them a voice in public life."

This is exactly what Davidson is referring to in her book. Again, we're seeing how print culture was an empowering tool that had immense social implications. Through the power of the written word, women were finally able to contribute on a political and social level.

But aside from all this talk about the power of the written word, I'm fascinated by this idea that writing was a means by which women participated in public life. Writing, by its very nature, is often a private process where the writer spends time wrapped up in his or her own thoughts and ideas. In no way is the writing process a public activity. Ironically though, it is through the private activity of writing that many, not just women, have found a voice in public life.

This irony is especially illuminated in our current society. I think that we live a culture where writing doesn't necessarily carry the same weight that it did during the early American republic. Sure, anyone has the ability to write and put there writing in the public, but that doesn't necessarily mean that anyone is going to pay attention. I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that you, my classmates, are the only ones that will ever come across this blog.

For women during this time period, getting read meant you had a presence in public life. Maybe it means the same thing today. If you aren't blogging, chatting, or giving your two cents on various social networks, you may not be contributing in public discussions.

I don't really know where I'm going with any of this, but my reactions to this week's reading was all over the place, and I'm pretty sure this blog reflects that.

An Extensive Republic: Ch 7

"We are a plain people, that have nothing to do with the mere pleasures and luxuries of life: and hence there has sprung up within us a quick-sightedness to the failings of literary men, and an aversion to everything that is not practical, operative, and thorough-going"--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Leverenz's chapter focuses on an interesting subject: American "manliness" and the idea that masculine tensions were crucial in understanding American print culture. But I don't want to focus on that because the quote above got me thinking about something else.

I took a philosophy course once where the professor asked on the first day of class "Why are all of you here? You should be taking business classes, or construction management classes, or doing SOMETHING practical. Why are you here?" He was serious, and he truly wanted to know why we were all sitting in a classroom at 8 am wanting to learn about epistemology.

In giving this example, I guess I'm grouping philosophy with literature--as a member of the "humanities" or "liberal arts." And it's a truly interesting question, and I think Longfellow is getting at the same idea in the quote above. To a certain extent, there is a belief amongst people that studies in these fields aren't practical in any way. How is studying poetry going to earn you any money or benefit society? It's a misguided question, because of course there are practical ways in which literature studies and the like benefit ourselves and the societies we belong to.

But I won't get into that, because I'm guessing that most of you are on the same page as me. But what I am interested in, and what I think Leverenz is interested in, is the origins of this type of question. Why has there always been, it seems, that the arts and humanities are viewed as non-practical? As Leverenz notes, if you were a writer, you were probably an anonymous one because of the negative connotations related to authorship.

I've never thought about this question in the way Leverenz does. Writing, and the profession of writing was "unmanly", and who in their right mind what ever want to be unmanly. Leverenz points out that American manlihood has always been associated with "the gentlemen, the artisan, and the entrepenuer," and the writer, I guess, just doesn't fall into those categories?

As definitions of "success" began to change in the 19th century, so did the connotations of being a writer. But I'm not so sure that those same definitions apply today. "Success" is often measured in terms of monetary gain or societal impact, and I believe that those things are hard to measure in our field.

An Extensive Republic: Ch 9

How nice, that Andie Tucher would pick up right where Mr. Gross left off in his introduction. Gross ends his intro by pointing to the ironies of the statement "the more we knew about each other, the better we shall like one another." And without missing a beat, Tucher begins her chapter with the belief that "public discord, dispute, and division" are the fruits of a cohesive readership.

What struck me about this short chapter was this idea that the hopes and intentions of the Early Republic print culture did not at all align with the reality of the print culture. As Tucher notes, Americans "seemed" all too thrilled with the press as they "gathered in taverns and read together" and "treasured each issue as a key to a wider world and a solvent of their isolation." Like Gross stated in his introduction, and like Madison had hoped, the press was something that was supposed to unite the country.

This "hope" that the press would "unify a diverse and scattered people", like many other things, would eventually fall victim to a lack of money. Tucher constantly reminds us that the early newspapers and magazines were constantly fighting for their survival, and when times were tough, they usually turned to a "patron or a party with a particular argument to advance."

Reading these 20 pages of Tucher makes me think that just about every decision that was made with regard to print culture had to with money or politics: Country presses turned to political funding because they went broke; early magazines survived because of publishers' willingness to sell out to the more popular British literatures; politicians bribed and swayed newspapers to get votes; the penny presses made up false investigations to sway the opinion of middle-class readers. Weren't there any wholesome writers out there?

This quote about Gordon Bennet's coverage of the prostitute murder pretty much says it all:
"His paper's chief purpose was not to exhort a group to accomplish something, but to persuade a public to buy something. And that required a stance less of passion and commitment (and sometimes manipulativeness) than of validation and consensus (and sometimes manipulativeness)" (emphasis added).

Needless to say, this isn't the most uplifting or patriotic of the readings we've had this semester. What has happened to the good-natured, American Exceptionalism that Starr had me believing in? We've quite literally gone from the joys of reading, to journalistic manipulation of readers by people like Gordon Bennet. Either the American print culture took a horrible turn for the worse somewhere between Starr and Tucher, or we're seeing a great example of the ways in which history can be represented by two very different writers...I would have to side with the latter.

PS…I don't know if this picture is related (it may be), but I found it amusing enough to share with you all.

An Extensive Republic: Ch 1

I know you've all seen the movie Matilda. It's a childhood classic for most of us, and even if you haven't seen it, you've most likely heard it referenced in some conversation. As most of you probably know, it's a silly film about a little girl with psychic powers and a love of reading.

Strangely, I thought of a scene from this movie when reading Brown's chapter. I'm thinking of the scene where Matilda is sitting in her living room reading while her family watches a horrible game show and eats a TV dinner. Her angry little father--played by a never-better Danny DeVito--starts to yell at Matilda and condemn her for thinking that she's better than her family as she sits and reads. He thinks that she's a "snooty" little kid that thinks reading makes her smarter and better than everyone else.

I know it's an odd reference, and I could have probably made the same connection to a number of different films or books, but it was the first thing that came to my mind when I read lines like:

"through the act of reading, every individual could cultivate a sense of social superiority..." (70)

"men sought out secular books and magazines as markers of respectability…"(71)

"The patina of cosmopolitanism, which extensive reading had long supplied to the gentry, had a broad appeal for upwardly striving common folk"(71)

Even in the days of the Early Republic, reading had implications of social superiority. But it seems that back in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, reading was almost a requirement if you wanted to be considered a respectable member of society. As Brown says, if you just wanted to gossip or talk about the weather, you were considered "backward" and "inferior." In that regard, cosmopolitanism was a "goal" for many people, and achieving this type of social status through reading meant that you were a contributing member of society.

In a way, I see this ideology reversed in today's society. I'm not speaking of the worlds of academia, but just the normal, everyday culture that we partake in. Reading has become somewhat of a sign of arrogance. To be honest, I felt a little bit like Matilda during my undergrad years, and when I sat  in my living room reading Watchmen while my roommates watched Entourage, they felt a little like Matilda's dad.

Now, I don't speak for everyone, and that example is certainly a little extreme, but I think the basic idea applies to the ways in which reading has changed in recent years. Like we discussed in class a few weeks ago, to be "literate" in this country means to be able to navigate the web and read online. To be seen with a book in your hand is almost taboo. We've covered this topic in class on numerous occasions, but it's evident that there has been in a shift in what reading signifies to others: being well read used to mean that you were well-informed, respectable, and a contributing member to the new republic; today, other's may just think that you're a pompous jerk.

Back in the early republic, when reading and writing were means to an end to liberate a country and enlighten citizens, these connections seemed much more relevant. Today, these connections between reading and arrogance, or reading and social status, seem silly. Yes, I enjoy my books, and I'll continue to enjoy them, but here I am referencing Matilda while I watch the World Series in my pajamas…I don't exactly feel like The Most Interesting Man in the Universe (nor do I drink Dos Equis).

Wrong Reading!!!

Thanks Kandace for pointing out that I blogged on the wrong reading! Looks like I'm a week ahead…woops. So unless you want some major SPOILERS of next week's readings, don't pay attention to my last post.

Woops.

An Extensive Republic: Introduction

I'm going to have to echo Kandace's feelings towards the introduction of this book--a whole lot of facts, and a whole lot of boring. But part of me thinks that this is because I've been doing a lot of learning in this class. Had we read this book first, I would probably have found the information much more absorbing and new. In reading Starr and Davidson, I've absorbed a ton of useful infomration about the early republic's print culture, and this week's reading reaffirmed in me that I've actually learned something! I'm not saying that I' now an expert thanks to Starr and Davidson, but I'm certainly more familiar with this time period, and I have a fairly balanced understanding of the early republic.

That being said, I did find a few interesting nuggets of information in Gross's introduction. First is the way Irish and Scottish publishers "transformed the publishing landscape"(24). While Starr and Davidson touch on the influences of England on American print culture, I don't recall either of them mentioning the Celts. I am especially interested in how the Irish and Scottish performed their practice "in the name of American patriotism" (24). Gross touches on this point for only a brief paragraph, but I'm interested in the ways Celtic publishers influenced American print.

Another detail that caught my eye was they ways in which the American government saw the promotion of state-sponsred scholarship as an "aristocratic tradition." Gross writes, "The new republic put its faith in the extensive diffusion of useful knowledge to the many, not the promotion of arcane knowledge for the few"(33). As someone studying in the realm of academia, I find it fascinating that the early American government found it necessary to opposed the idea of a "learned culture." It's possible that there is some of this going on today, especially from right-winged pundits. There seems to be a sense that higher education and the culture of academia are out to promote left-wing ideology that disrupts the "democratic" ideologies our country was founded on.

Gross's mentioning of the "transportation revolution" really got my brain cooking. He notes all of the obvious developments in technology and transportation, but his reference to the telegraph adds a new dimension to the discussion. On page 34, Gross writes, "the telegraph…transcended physical distance altogether, 'annihilating time and space'…". I'm drawn to this idea that Americans had immediate access to information because I feel that these developments are directly tied to the growing conflict and dissent amongst Americans. When Gross cites the Columbian Herald and writes, "the more we know, the better we shall like another," I can't help but chuckle knowing that the exact opposite is true in some cases. The idea that accessible information was supposed to unite the country would backfire in the years to come, and it's evident that this principle still applies today.

And finally, I just loved the story about the farmer and his son arguing about tradition and change. It just reminded me of many conversations that I've had with my parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. I couldn't help but think of my grandfather saying when I was in grade school, "What the hell are they teaching you in those books" as I read in his living room. In one sense, the farmer (and my grandfather) were right--reading can be a way of detaching yourself from social interaction, and it does play a role privatizing one's life. This makes me think of the ways in which reading, television, the internet, and other forms of personal amusement have played a role in making American culture much more privatized and individualistic.

So, I guess this introduction had a little more to offer than I initially suggested. While the information felt quite familiar (which is probably what made it a little boring), it also allowed me to think of these ideas in new ways.

Revolution and the Word: Ch 3 and 4

I’d like to first thank Cathy Davidson for ruining the end of Charlotte Temple for me. A simple “Spoiler Warning” would have been nice…

Anywho, I’d like to begin this post by introducing a quote from one of my favorite novels—Walker Percy’s The Moviegoer: 

 “The fact is I am quite happy in a movie, even a bad movie.” 

Now I know this quote is really simple, and it applies to film, but I’m going to attempt to relate it to these two chapters from Revolution and the Word. Bare with me.

When I got to the end of chapter four, I began to think about the ways in which fiction functions in my own life. Davidson uses these two chapters to show us how people of the early republic used the novel in their everyday lives, and how it was a means by which they could rebel against governing ideologies. Overall, I feel that Davidson comes to the conclusion that novels were mainly read because of their ability to “amuse” and “instruct.” People got something from novels that they simply couldn’t get from other literary forms.

Novels could be “emotionally intense, physically fulfilling, imaginatively active, socially liberating, and educationally progressive,” according to Davidson. If you ask me, that’s assigning some serious power to books. But in a way, she seemed to be getting at something far more personal than she initially lets on.

Late in chapter four, Davidson gives examples of the ways readers annotated their novels. One example in particular struck me as the defining moment in these two chapters, as well as my reason for thinking of the aforementioned quote. She writes, “Of Course, not all readers were so positive about their books,” and she then goes on to give the following example of a reader that was not particularly fond of Samuel Relf’s Infidelity, or the Victims of Sentient: “A book more pouted with destruction and abominable sentiments cannot be punt into the hands of anyone—shame to him who wrote it, to her who patronize it, and to the age and country that produced it.”

After I stopped laughing at this reader’s commentary—which I found both ridiculous and extremely well articulated—I realized how happy it made me that Davidson included it in this book. Sure, not everyone liked what he or she were reading, but the fact that they were reading and then articulating what they felt about the novel is almost more important.

So let’s go back to the quote I used to introduce this blog: “The fact is I am quite happy in a movie, even a bad movie.” This is how I feel about literature, films, music, and really any type of art form. Sure, it’s one thing to read something or watch something that is truly inspiring, but I believe that I get more out of reading or watching the things I don’t like than I do with the things I enjoy. The ability to be critical of a work and to question it is an extremely valuable tool.

I have a hard time going to the movies with my family, because I usually just end up getting mad at the end of the night. My parents and I went to see “Tree of Life” this summer, and without going into too much detail, they both agreed that the movie was awful. My attempts to defend the film, or even give responses their utter disgust, were shut down with the response of “Whatever Klay, it was too long and it sucked.”

Which brings me to the image. Some of you may know the story behind it, but for those who do not, this was posted outside of a movie theater in Connecticut after some customers had stormed out a screening of "Tree of Life" demanding their money back. Though for me, the best part of it is the theater asking audiences to "expand their horizons." I'm not advocating that we all become literary or film elitists, but I left this week's reading thinking a lot about the "pleasure" or "amusement' I get from thinking critically about art, whether I like it or not. I can't remember the last time I walked out of a movie, or stopped reading a book because I didn't "like" it, mainly because I get more enjoyment in talking about it afterwords. Perhaps that's why I continue to study literature. 

Revolution and The Word: Ch 1 and 2

To be completely honest, I was rather bored with reading these two chapters. It felt like Davidson was restating a lot of the economic and societal factors that affected the novel and the reading public that Starr discussed. This is no fault of Davidson, of course, but I struggled to find something interesting or new to write in my blog. 

And I think this is something worth noting: as I've done the readings for the first month of this course, I've simultaneously been looking for blogging topics. This is a problem because I haven't really been paying attention to the story that each individual author is trying to tell. I guess you could say that my reading experience, so far, has been tainted by my constant search for interesting concepts or ideas to write about in my blog.  In doing this, I almost missed the point of Davidson's first few chapters, and it wasn't until I got to the end of chapter two when I realized that she was setting up her entire argument with some very important information about the history of the novel in America. 

Reading about this history (the ways audiences received and responded to books, the struggles of the book industry, the role of printers and copyright laws, etc) seemed, to me, like unnecessary information in Davidson's attempt to describe the sociological impact of the novel in America. It was almost as if I were asking her to "cut to the chase." I even wrote in the margins at the end of chapter 2, when Davidson begins to discuss the relationship between virtue and economic reward, "here we go", meaning that I was pleased to find the she was starting to connect the dots. 

But of course, I only felt this way because I was looking for something new to write about, instead of paying attention to Davidson's intentions. She writes at the end of Chapter 2 that the novel found success in the early republic despite a lack of economic reward. Davidson sees this as "a classic example of the ways in which art sometimes circumvents the economic facts that ostensibly determine it" (99). There needs to be an awareness, according to Davidson, of the novel's history and its economic obstacles in order to understand that there were social and psychological factors that contributed to its ultimate success (100). 

Needless to say, I felt a little foolish after reading Davidson's conclusion to Chapter 2. I missed the point, and it is certainly an important one, especially with how it relates to so many of my previous posts. I've constantly been referring to the power of art in a society and how the changes in which we're consuming art will effect what we expect from art and from one another. Davidson uses these two chapters to make that very same point: the role art plays in a society (the novel in Davidson's case) almost transcends the economic and societal factors that attempt to pull against its success. 

When I took the GRE last fall, my essay question asked me to make an argument for or against the claim that a struggling economy should cut government funding for the arts unless it can adequately support "more important"issues (like healthcare, education, etc). I won't get into what my response was, but this question, along with Davidson's book, asks a very though provoking and difficult question. At what point does the value of art surpass those other needs that a society requires? 

Revolution and the Word: Introduction

To say that Cathy Davidson's view of American history differs from that of Paul Starr is a bit of an understatement. There were times while reading this introduction when I felt Mrs. Davidson was directly addressing Mr. Starr. My reading experience went a little something like this: "Huh, that sounds a little bit like some anti-exceptionalism," only to find that 3 pages later Davidson directly addresses the issue of American exceptionalism. Or, "Hmm, Davidson seems to have a bit of a liberal perspective,"….5 pages later…"Oh look, Davidson recognizes that some people may categorize her as a liberal."

This is not, by an means, an indictment of Davidson. I found it quite refreshing to read something that almost directly addressed my questions as a reader. It seemed that almost every time I questioned Davidson'e accuracy, political slant, or historical perspective, she addressed those some questions and recognized that her perspective on American history raises a lot of questions. It was almost as if she predicted how I was going to read her book…like a witch!

In class I voiced  my approval of Starr as a historian with an interesting story to tell, but reading Davidson has led me to see a few more problems with Starr's writing. I won't list them here, but I will instead point to why I think Davidson provides a more fair and balanced view of American history.

Overall, Davidson doesn't make broad generalizations about the effects of reading on the American people. Where Starr points to the unifying effects of literacy and rise of the printing press, Davidson recognizes that the new American print culture may have led to significant class struggles and dissension amongst individuals. One passage in particular stands out as almost a direct rebutal to Starr. Starr writes about how America had no cultural centers, and this led to diversity of opinions and a rich cornucopia of ideas that didn't stream from one centralized location. Almost as if to say, "ya, but.." Davidson writes, "Rural, scattered, a nation of immigrants with different cultural and religious traditions, with poverty and homelessness, pestilence and slavery, with vitriolic party politics as well as political corruption, with mobocracy and would-be aristocracy, and very little in way of high culture, America had no urban center of population, power and culture equivalent to London or Paris" (23). 

This is definitely a severe over-simplification, but here's how I understand the difference between Starr and Davidson…

Starr: 'Merica is special. People could say what they wanted, read what they wanted, and form their own opinions. This is all good.

Davidson: This all may not be so good. And it probably didn't happen that way.

…but I'll turn my attention away from the comparisons between Starr and Davidson, and focus on a topic Davidson develops in this introduction: the idea that the energies and ideologies that go into sparking a revolution have to be suppressed and controlled once the new governing democracy is in power. It is one of the great ironies of the American Revolution. 

The specific line that comes to mind is where Davidson quotes Antonio Negri and writes, "if revolutions are based on utopian dreams, constitutions are designed to prevent the anarchic imaginings that lead to revolution" (12). This is an interesting concept that I have never given much thought to, and it makes me think of America's recent conflicts in the Middle East. In America's attempt to promote democracy in countries like Iraq, it is important to recognize that introducing new political ideals into a foreign place may require the suppression of those very ideals in order to maintain civility and compliance. For example, the American military has found it necessary to "police" and oversee the implementation of democracy in Iraq--a concept that in and of itself  is rather un-democratic. 

Davidson writes that "America is freedom definitionally--so much so that it does not have to be always free and equal in order to support freedom." After reading this, my initial thought was that is was a little harsh. But the more I think about it, Davidson is simply demonstrating the utilitarian nature of the American way. There is a tendency to ignore America's ugly past so that the rosy picture of American freedom and democracy can be painted. 

To my mind, this is fascinating stuff, and it's even more interesting to see how Davidson uses the novel to illustrate the "divisiveness" that is so often ignored in the origin stories of this country. As Davidson writes, history tends to "celebrate" and glorify these origin stories, but I'm very intrigued by the idea that the early American novel tells an origin story that you wouldn't see depicted at "historical theme parks" or "Fourth of July parades."

Movie Recommendation

Hello all,


In light of yesterday's conversation in class about whats students are like today and where they're headed, I would like to recommend a very good film called "Afterschool." I'll use a quote from the film's website to give you a description: "When [a young student] accidentally captures on camera the horrific death of two girls, he’s tasked with memorializing their lives in a film meant to help speed up the school's healing process."


It's a film that asks the same questions we've been asking in class: How has reading changed? What does it mean to be literate? What does the future hold for students and teachers? In my opinion, this, more than any recent film I can recall, captures where we are as a generation of students, and where we're going.


I would encourage all of you to check this one out. It's available on Netflix instant viewing. I also own it on DVD, and I'd be happy to lend it to any of you!


Let me also say that I recommend this film with EXTREME CAUTION! The subject matter is very macabre, and some of the content is rather explicit and graphic. I just wanted to warn you ahead of time that it is not a film for the faint of heart. But if that sort of thing doesn't bother you, then I think you'll really enjoy it and see a lot of comparisons between the film and our conversation from yesterday's class. 


Have a great weekend...

Creation of the Media: Ch 4 and wrapping up Starr

“American must be as independent in literature as she is in Politics, as famous for arts as for arms; and it is not impossible but a person of my youth may have some influence in exciting a spirit of literary industry.”

If there were ever a mantra for people in the field of literary studies, this is it. I cannot speak for everyone, but when I think about the role of an educator, specifically in the artistic fields, it is to do just what the young Noah Webster was referring to—inspire in others the societal significance of the arts.

In my first two blogs, I’ve done a lot of comparing and contrasting between the America of the early modern period, and the America of today. And in doing so, I think I’ve had a bit of a condemning tone when writing about our current society. I don’t want to give the impression that I’m this anti-American rebel that wants to pick up and move to Canada because we’re all going to hell in a hand basket. I love America, and as I write this post on the eve of September 11^th, I know that I have good reason to be more patriotic than ever. But in reading these 150 pages of Starr, I’ve done a lot of thinking about the ways in which literature has seen a declining role in our country in recent years. It’s tough not to view the period Starr writes about without filtering it through the lens of present-day society.

Starr quotes an American publisher that references the ways literature changed from the late 18^th century into the early 19^th.  This publisher notes how people no longer approach books and newspapers with “reverence” and “awe”…”How the world has changed.” I can’t even count the number of times I've had those same thoughts about current American society when reading Starr.

I’ve found one overarching theme that connects the two periods: America was then, and is now, in a period where the value of literature was competing against a number of other societal values. The key difference, though, is that during the early modern period, literature was competing to find its place in American culture. On the other hand, literature today is fighting to maintain its very existence. In short, I envision two different worlds: one where literature was on the rise, and the other where literature is on the decline.

Webster’s quote has it’s meaning in both the time it was written and today. But in both instances, people are having to learn or re-learn the value of literature. Try to imagine a world where people saw the novel as a dangerous, manipulative, and wicked weapon against a functioning society. That’s giving some serious authority to power of books. Today, when I even mention to some of my friends and family that I am studying literature, I get this blank stare that seems to say, “Why the hell would you want to study that?” Meaning, a good portion of society doesn’t place a great deal of value on literature and the impact it has on a society.

For all of the fault’s we’ve found in class with Starr’s American “Exceptionalism,”—and there are plenty—I find that he does a great job of portraying the way the written word can greatly impact a society. One element that struck me was how the popularity of literature in the 19^th Century was able to break down the “traditional hierarchy of taste” that previously existed. To me this relationship between popular lit and its effects on societal hierarchy are fascinating, and it’s an element of these few chapters that I would like to research a little further.

But as we come to the end of our reading of Starr, I’d like to know what other people think about the role literature should have in our society. We’re all studying lit for a specific reason, but I’d like to think it's because we believe it has some type of importance beyond stimulating the senses. I guess you could say the theme of my blog over the past three weeks has been how we’re developing into a society that is obsessed with authenticity and FACT. So the question I pose to you all is this: is that a bad thing, and what role should the arts (I’m thinking more towards lit, film, and music) play in a modern society?

PS-You don’t have to answer. It’s just something to think about. 

Creation of the Media: Ch 2 and 3

Reading Starr’s chapter on the American “Information Revolution,” I couldn’t help but relate some of the issues he brings up to the age we currently live in. Near the beginning of the chapter, Starr writes that by the beginning of the 19^th century, reading had become a “new activity,” and Americans were becoming acquainted with the idea of “keeping up with the times through newspapers” (86). 

Based on the conversation we had in class last Tuesday, it’s quite clear that Americans have gotten over the newspaper fad. But what struck me as interesting was not the ways in which we’ve come to no longer need a newspaper (technology, etc), but what we’ve come to expect from our news because of it.

For so many Americans during this Early Modern Period, reading was such a thrill, and words contained an immeasurable amount of power. The American Revolution and the new model of self-government that arose from it created a society were citizens felt an obligation to “keep up with the times,” according to Starr. I can imagine living during this time, when picking up the newspaper would have been the most thrilling part of my day. In short, reading was the only way of discovering what existed outside of one’s personal world.

Reading through these two chapters, I found myself transported into that world where reading had such an irreplaceable value. Starr does an excellent job of describing how writing had a substantial impact on what people believed and how they lived their lives. Obviously, as a student of literature, I see a tremendous amount of value in reading and discovery through the written word. But, I also see a society today that will settle for nothing less than real, moving images in their face.

The younger generation (I call them the “youtube generation,” and I’m probably a part of it), has, for the most part, never been exposed to a print culture. Most of our news and information comes from television, the internet, and yes, youtube. But more to my point is that fact that most of the people growing up in this generation will settle for nothing less than the reality that these outlets provide. I can log onto youtube and actually look up footage of the 9/11 attacks, or view pictures of a real crime scene, or watch real people get shot in Iraq. This is the type of news that is available to us today, and anything that isn’t as “real” or “true” is simply dismissed as an orchestrated lie.

It’s remarkable to think how much this country has changed in under 300 years of history. We’ve gone from a county (and I guess the same can be said about most developed countries) where print was the primary means of informational  exchange, to a place where we’ll only believe something to be true if we see it actually taking place (be it on a television or computer screen).

As Starr points out, the advancements made with the postal system, newspapers, and education all took place before the industrial revolution ran its course.  It seems to me that technological advancements have served to all but eliminate the need for print. Technology is probably the most obvious reason that we’ve headed down this path, and it just makes me wonder where we’ll be in another 20 years. 

Creation of the Media: Into and Chpt 1

I won't lie, reading the title of this book's introduction made me make some premature judgements about where the readings were headed: "The Political Origins of Modern Communication."  Where this chapter began had me in a mind frame that was no where close to where is was when the chapter ended. Although quite interesting, the ways in which European and American governments implemented policies and laws to control communication is somewhat of a stale topic for me.

But as this chapter progresses, it becomes much less about the role of politics in the creation of the media and more about the mind-set of the people. I find it somewhat obvious that each of the countries discussed (America, England, and France) have their histories of censorship of control of communication. But the more fascinating side of the equation comes from the role of the people and their ability to shape the development of a more open and progressive media culture.

Early on, one  element that struck me is where Starr mentions how Americans have very little interest in the theoretical and abstract side of human knowledge, and they simply are consumers of FACTS. I found this claim to go against my personal ways of thinking and communicating. Unlike the Americans Starr describes, I am a person who is more concerned with "knowledge" than "information." My background in epistemology has made me into someone that doesn't always necessarily concern myself with facts and data. Instead, I try to look at the bigger picture when trying to contemplate whether or not what we claim to call "information" can even be counted as knowledge.

It makes you wonder what our society might be like today had we taken more of the "French" approach to newspaper reporting in the 19th and 20th centuries. As Starr points out, the French newspapers primarily consisted of "literary essays," whereas American newspapers simply stuck to reporting the news. I can see how that is reflected today in the cultures of each country. Albeit stereotypically, France is a country that is largely associated with its "high culture." Elegant museums, decadent foods, and sophisticated literature are all things that I would associate with French culture. Meanwhile--and maybe this is just because I've lived here my whole life--the stereotypes associated with everyday Americans are that we have a tendency to be lazy and stupid. Now, the majority of you reading this blog certainly don't fall into that category, but I think you get the point.

Perhaps this, in part, answers Starr when he writes, "what kind of society it proves to be will ultimately be a political choice" (19). I think we've already begun to see a very distinct society created by the American media, and I don't necessarily believe that the results have all been because of political choices. Today, in a society where we basically have access to anything and everything (or at least we like to think we do), it seems that the people have more of a choice in what type of society we'll become.   When a video of a kid going crazy because he's on laughing gas has about 5 million hits on youtube, I think the people have spoke.

Well, I guess reading the first few chapters of this book have really got me thinking positively! I don't necessarily think that Starr intended this type of reaction, especially from the book's introduction. But the media and it's role in shaping society is a very interesting topic for me, and it's one that sends my mind in many different directions. That being said, I did enjoy what I've read so far, and I look forward to the internal debates that will develop from further readings.

About Me

1) Where are you from?  How would you describe your hometown?

 The question "Where am I from" is, believe it or not,  a rather difficult one for me to answer. Actually, it's probably more difficult for you to read to my answer. Technically I was born in Houston, Texas, but for most of my life I lived in Denver, Colorado. For some odd reason, my mother and father were adamant that my two brothers and I were all be born in the same state. So despite my family living in CO at the time of my birth, my mother flew to Houston for my delivery. I know, pretty odd.

I consider my hometown to be a suburb of Denver called Greenwood Village, and I don't think that I could have grown up in a better town. It was a rather small community, where I knew most of my neighbors and I never had to travel far to get groceries, gas, or find a good restaurant. It is also very close to Denver, so I was able to enjoy the perks of a big city. If you couldn't tell, I have very pleasant memories of my "hometown."

2) Describe yourself as a reader.

 I absolutely love to read, but I always have this fear in the back of mind that I don't read enough. There are so many things  out there to read that I often feel uncomfortable coming to decisions about what is "good," especially when there is so much I haven't read. That being said, I am an avid reader of American Southern Literature. My favorite writer, without a doubt, is Harry Crews. He has a voice and a language that I find to be absolutely captivating, and I try to read one of his novels at least once per year. I tend to read a lot of novels, but lately I have gotten into graphic novels and some historical non-fiction. There is a possibility that I may be slightly obsessed with reading film reviews. It's not uncommon for me to browse the internet for hours reading several reviews on films that I have seen, usually just to gain multiple perspectives. 

3) Describe yourself as a writer.

As a writer, I am someone who does his best work under pressure. Yes, that means I tend to procrastinate quite a bit. I have never had much success stretching out my writing process over a long period, mainly because I find it difficult to write in the same tone and train of thought over a long period. I usually do all of my academic writing by hand, and I edit and revise my work as I type it into a word-proceser. It is a system that worked pretty well as an undergrad, and it hasn't failed me yet. 

I have little to no experience with creative writing, but I am certainly open to expanding my writing horizons as a graduate student. 

4) What are your goals for this semester?

My goals of the semester are to first become familiar with the department and the town of Fort Worth. I'd like to establish relationships with my professors and fellow students and find my comfort zone here at TCU. 

I want to emerge myself in the readings and to find a comfortable routine that allows me to perform my best. As a result, I would certainly like to find success in the class room. But more importantly, I want to discover, or at least begin to discover, what my main areas of study will be in the years to come and become comfortable with myself as a grad student.

5) Describe the worst class or the worst teacher you have ever had.

Wow, this is an easy one for me. The worst class I have ever taken was unsurprisingly taught by the worst teacher that I've ever had. It was an AP Spanish class my junior year of high school. The teacher was very unorganized, and I could tell that she didn't really care whether or not any person actually learned to speak Spanish. For the most part, we watched a lot of movies during class (all of them in English), and we played the board game version of Jeopardy. I know, it may sound like a GREAT class, but it wasn't so great when I took the AP Spanish exam and I had learned very little Spanish. 

6) List three books that have deeply touched your life.

The Last Temptation of Christ by Nikos Kazantzakis

Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

Father and Son by Larry Brown

7) List three things that you know about the US during the years 1770-1830.

Revolutionary War

Declaration of Independence

George Washington became President

12) Tell me three things that I ought to know about you.

I just graduated from Colorado State University in Fort Collins, CO with by BA in English Literature. I also studied Philosophy as a required second field.

Aside from literature, I have an unyielding passion for film. 

Even though I just recently learned how, I really love to cook.