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Post by shaxper on Oct 18, 2002 1:14:14 GMT -5
I was just reading a book on metaphysics. The author chose not to add footnotes so as to make it easier for novices to follow.
I immediately thought back to Harold Bloom's The Invention of the Human. No footnotes, sparse references. Just easily accessible talk, written in an engaging tone, sans excess stuffiness.
Some would argue that Bloom chose this approach because his arguments are simplistic and often hold little weight. Some of that is true, but not all of it.
Truth is, I enjoyed reading his book. It didn't feel like work, and if I really wanted to check up on something he'd written, I could always do my own search for related materials without the help of a long footnote.
On the other hand, when you don't have those footnotes and that research to guide you, is the author in danger of being more reckless with their arguments, or does the research merely compliment the intelligent thoughts that were always there?
Just a thought to consider. I know I'd rather read and write good, engaging criticism without all the research paper trails, but maybe that's just the eay way out.
I'm interested in hearing other thoughts about this.
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Post by Ganymede on Oct 18, 2002 12:32:32 GMT -5
I think you can do both. I've read criticism by some people who write in exciting and interesting ways who use research when necessary, without letting the research take over. What I really dislike is reading essays where the footnotes seem longer than the essay itself.
What's most important to me is the passion evinced in the author's voice. I want to feel that the author of the essay really cares about the original work, not just about sounding good or showing off. It seems really easy to tell the difference, and when I feel that the author moves away from the original text and crosses fully into self-aggrandizement ("Look how much research I've done, look how smart I am"), that's when I stop reading.
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Post by shaxper on Oct 18, 2002 13:43:18 GMT -5
Gad, this conversation is giving me the unmistakable urge to pick up Camille Paglia's "Sexual Personae"
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