CRITERION 8: STAKES (typical feedback: so what?, why?, who cares?, meh, missing the point, too safe, take more risks)
To download my handout on Stakes in pdf, click here.
Implicit in any essay assignment is the instruction to “figure out how to care.” Your mind and soul have the ability to care substantially about—to find the “so what” in—anything. You are here to hone your ability to care. Each time you face a prompt or subject that leaves you uninspired, consider it an exercise in caring: by struggling to think within, and temporarily absorb, an unfamiliar set of priorities, you will become a more engaged reader. You should always conceive of your scholarly writing as public work, read by an audience with genuine interest (see Tone page)—not as an obligatory exercise to get through quickly.
If you don’t know why anyone would bother writing an essay in the humanities unless assigned to do so, stop and think about it (or talk to an instructor) now, until you understand.
ENGAGED READING. The overcommitted English student tends too often to “get through” readings: to skim readings cursorily, sacrificing engagement, enjoyment, and retention for a false sense of completion, and then to graduate with a dehumanized sense of the humanities. Only weak writing—and weak thinking—can grow out of disengaged reading. So:
In humanities study, it is almost always better (for your grades and your soul) to, if need be, read assigned texts incompletely, but deeply, rather than skimming or rushing the whole thing. (If you’ve been assigned more than one text or chapter at once, it’s often better to read one in depth than to skim them all — except in those classes, rarer in the advanced humanities, that involve systematic tests of broad knowledge).
Set aside time, ahead of every class, dedicated only to reading. Set a timer. Start on time; stop on time.
Get the sleep, food, and calm you need before reading. (If your body thinks it’s being chased, it won’t have time for art).
Set aside space, well-lit and free of interruptions and distractions. Some students have more difficulty getting time and space for thoughtful reading; all students are entitled to it — it is the heart of literary studies. If you currently lack the time or space you need for thoughtful reading, get in touch with a prof so we can think through ways to fix the problem; there are likely to be options you’ve missed. (Avoid reading while commuting if you can.)
Manage your sound. (Read either in silence or with lyric-free music. Try earplugs or earbuds).
Keep notation in some form: light notes, highlights, underlines, or other marks that emphasize words/passages in the text worth returning to for clarification, analysis, or critique. When you do, generate at least two questions or comments per reading that you can verbalize aloud. Speaking of which:
SPEAK UP. Class discussion is the best way to increase stakes. If you feel unable to speak up, approach me—I’ve got hacks.
SET YOURSELF UP TO NERD OUT. Chances are very high that you’ve found yourself, at some point, in hours of deep contemplation about the minute details in some cultural artifact. (If you haven’t, go find an opportunity to do so now!) When intelligent people care about a made object, close reading comes naturally (from parody to Bible study to fandom to drunken debates); English classes are about honing that natural tendency so that its benefits can be communicated beyond the confines of your mom’s basement, your small group of friends, or your own head—in media that last beyond a particular afternoon or [wild] night. When you read or write for English classes, experiment by recreating environments and situations that have otherwise led you into the depths of passionate, emotional exegesis.
USE YOUR FEELINGS. Your personal emotional reaction cannot be where your inquiry ends (literary scholarship is about making a logical argument legible outside of yourself), but it often is where your inquiry starts. Any emotional reaction works. Does a text or subject frustrate you? Bore you? Alienate you? Why would anyone read, let alone assign, this text? Some of the best writing about literature is done by scholars initially trying to sort through negative reactions. (Meanwhile, liking a text is not the same thing as caring about it. Devoted readers of a text often guard their interpretations of that text with anti-intellectual preciousness. Push yourself to challenge your own assumptions about a text you hold precious. It may be unpleasant, but will result in a richer understanding.) Seek answers in the text that help you articulate your feelings in detail; find in secondary sources where your feelings may differ from received wisdom; use argumentation to challenge and complexify both your impressions and others’.
DON’T FAKE IT. Feigning interest will likely produce a mediocre essay (even if it gets an A); frequent faking will do lasting damage to your ability to write and think. As Orwell would put it, your writing makes your thinking visible. If your essay is low-key trying to do anything other thancommunicate convincingly, rigorously, and clearly some previously unseen depth, complexity, meaning, or beauty in a cultural artifact, it won’t do anything very effectively. Be honest with yourself first: check in, perhaps through a freewrite or a conversation with someone you trust, about why you are really doing whatever you are doing. Are you writing to impress rather than to convince? to satisfy rather than to argue? to hide insecurity rather than to explore? to mask unpreparedness rather than to lay truth bare?