Back in the Saddle
I'm finally trying to re-acquaint myself with this project. School is back in session, and I'm trying to use that as an excuse to break out of the workless stupor that I've been in for the past few months. Well, "workless" on this front, anyway. I've kept plenty busy, but only with oh-so-plebian concerns like paying the rent, etc.
Regardless, I'm back. As I sit here reading over my prospectus once again, I realize that I'm actually much happier with what I managed to put together back in July than I thought I would be. It still requires a lot of tinkering and fine-tuning, but as I look at it from the distance that my "time off" has allowed me, I begin to see some of the connections that I was trying to make, the fluidity of one idea spawning and relating to the next. And that's the most important thing for me right now. I REALLY want this to be a book. To be a text that someone will not only publish, but also read. Really, I want this to be the narrative of an idea. I need there to be a clear, logical flow between and among my theories and evidence. Perhaps the most frustrating thing about wanting to pursue an academic career is realizing just how insular the academy can be. Outside of teaching, what do we do but write articles and books for a handful of other academics to (maybe) read. It can seem like one big circle jerk most of the time (a lovely image, I know...). So, I want to avoid that as much as possible. I want to actually write something intelligent and theoretically sound, but also accessible and interesting. A tall order? I guess we'll see.
In the meantime, I've actually got to figure out exactly what it is I want to say in such an engaging way. Just that. No biggie. This process is beginning with me not only reading over my draft prospectus, but sifting through the incredibly anal notes that I took leading up to the writing of that document. One of these sets of notes are several notebook pages divided into three columns: Major Topics, Subtopics, and Other Points. Under these headings are listed hundreds of phrases, quotations, and concepts related to landscape theory, humanist geography, Western history and literature, etc. So what I'm doing now is reading down through these columns trying to remind myself of what each of these cryptic notes means. And, yes, I find this fun. But that's the kind of wild and crazy guy that I am.
One of these concepts (under "Subtopics") that has intrigued me today is the following: "feedback loops: 1) landscape as inspiration; 2) importance because of end product." OK, that makes no literal sense, I realize. But what it encompasses is the function of landscape as inspiration and the process by which a landscape can then come to be defined by the product of said inspiration. For instance, "Steinbeck Country." First, a man named John Steinbeck lives a place, absorbs it and finds something in or about that local/e worth writing about, something that speaks to him and the emotional and intellectual and mythic urges that he wishes to capture and convey in his work. So he writes the place, or some form of it. Then, through time and popularity and changing needs, many people begin to associate the real, lived landscape of "the long valley" or of Cannery Row with the stomping grounds of Steinbeck's fictional world. Thus, the place that created Steinbeck and his work turns around and finds itself (or even markets itself) as created by him, as "Steinbeck Country." Curious, no?
So what does this mean? It demonstrates the central importance of a collective memory/perception--and the mutability of that memory--to the creation and definition of "place." Definitions and meanings of place can and do shift, serving the needs of different groups/individuals at different times. Once upon a time, the city of Salinas had a helluva time keeping a statue of Steinbeck in an upright position outside of the post office because of persistent vandalism. Now, thanks to changing times (and a whole lot of money being poured into a National Steinbeck Center in the area), the city bills itself as the heart of Steinbeck Country, the place of his stories.
Don't ask me how this fits into my "narrative flow of ideas." I just think it's damn interesting.
Regardless, I'm back. As I sit here reading over my prospectus once again, I realize that I'm actually much happier with what I managed to put together back in July than I thought I would be. It still requires a lot of tinkering and fine-tuning, but as I look at it from the distance that my "time off" has allowed me, I begin to see some of the connections that I was trying to make, the fluidity of one idea spawning and relating to the next. And that's the most important thing for me right now. I REALLY want this to be a book. To be a text that someone will not only publish, but also read. Really, I want this to be the narrative of an idea. I need there to be a clear, logical flow between and among my theories and evidence. Perhaps the most frustrating thing about wanting to pursue an academic career is realizing just how insular the academy can be. Outside of teaching, what do we do but write articles and books for a handful of other academics to (maybe) read. It can seem like one big circle jerk most of the time (a lovely image, I know...). So, I want to avoid that as much as possible. I want to actually write something intelligent and theoretically sound, but also accessible and interesting. A tall order? I guess we'll see.
In the meantime, I've actually got to figure out exactly what it is I want to say in such an engaging way. Just that. No biggie. This process is beginning with me not only reading over my draft prospectus, but sifting through the incredibly anal notes that I took leading up to the writing of that document. One of these sets of notes are several notebook pages divided into three columns: Major Topics, Subtopics, and Other Points. Under these headings are listed hundreds of phrases, quotations, and concepts related to landscape theory, humanist geography, Western history and literature, etc. So what I'm doing now is reading down through these columns trying to remind myself of what each of these cryptic notes means. And, yes, I find this fun. But that's the kind of wild and crazy guy that I am.
One of these concepts (under "Subtopics") that has intrigued me today is the following: "feedback loops: 1) landscape as inspiration; 2) importance because of end product." OK, that makes no literal sense, I realize. But what it encompasses is the function of landscape as inspiration and the process by which a landscape can then come to be defined by the product of said inspiration. For instance, "Steinbeck Country." First, a man named John Steinbeck lives a place, absorbs it and finds something in or about that local/e worth writing about, something that speaks to him and the emotional and intellectual and mythic urges that he wishes to capture and convey in his work. So he writes the place, or some form of it. Then, through time and popularity and changing needs, many people begin to associate the real, lived landscape of "the long valley" or of Cannery Row with the stomping grounds of Steinbeck's fictional world. Thus, the place that created Steinbeck and his work turns around and finds itself (or even markets itself) as created by him, as "Steinbeck Country." Curious, no?
So what does this mean? It demonstrates the central importance of a collective memory/perception--and the mutability of that memory--to the creation and definition of "place." Definitions and meanings of place can and do shift, serving the needs of different groups/individuals at different times. Once upon a time, the city of Salinas had a helluva time keeping a statue of Steinbeck in an upright position outside of the post office because of persistent vandalism. Now, thanks to changing times (and a whole lot of money being poured into a National Steinbeck Center in the area), the city bills itself as the heart of Steinbeck Country, the place of his stories.
Don't ask me how this fits into my "narrative flow of ideas." I just think it's damn interesting.
3 Comments:
Interestingly, Jack's comments have tended to force me into making my dissertation more academic rather than less (in terms of the tone and style). My accessible and funny little quips he's excised like bad teeth. I'm actually a bit surprised as one of the reasons I chose him is that I thought he might dig a more loose style but that's proven to not be the case.
Anyway, I hope you can navigate the fire-water of academic vs. accessible. I'm not sure I'm accomplishing it at all. It's not so much an issue of style (or so I'm deciding right now) but an issue of structure. Which ideas follow others in the overall hierarchy of ideas is where the text becomes accessible or less so.
Anette told me to just write a dissertation; that I can always edit it into a book later. So I think I'd focus on that as an idea for you too. You're writing a dissertation now. It can be a book later, but right now write the dissertation. Then make it into a book.
Best get working on this book, bitch! What's the hold up?
isn't the goal (or idea perhaps) of creating an academic work such that it is accessible to the general population, beautiful? it frightens me that i feel this may be something of an oxymoron, but it does happen. there have certainly been countless texts which would by anyone's definition be definable as academic, that fall into the hands and hearts of the masses. personally, i was saddened that jack made christian change his work, but in some way i understand. in the end, it makes sense that the academic community needs to retain some aire of inaccessibility, or loftiness, but i find it a bit nauseating in some way. my favorite professor in college used to say that (i paraphrase) "those who feel the need to PROVE their intelligence aren't really all that smart." i wish you luck. i ahve lately been recording much music that is arguably "experimental" and i grapple with the same thing. how can i make this strange music less esoteric?
as for your thoughts on place, this has been an obsession of mine for some time. we should chat about it one of these days. frankly, i believe our perception both individually and culturally of place, is one of the more prominent factors in the way that we live our lives. i'm reading a good book about our perception of place, language, and nature right now called "the spell of the sensuous," which is, in a distant way, connected to this idea of a collective memory of place as defined by one individual. without language, or some fairly advanced for of communication, statues of steinbeck wouldn't even be a glimmer in our dim imagination.
sunday morning. i finish my tea. time to take a crap. i am like clockwork. how's that for intellect?
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