Sometimes I share [Perry] Miller’s frustration that the genre of “essay” has so much disappeared from academe. Much could be gained if scholars, drawing on accumulated moments of instruction and reflection, could feel free to venture forth without the fear of loss. Let me venture, with no scientific proof, that academics rarely refer to their shorter works as “essays” any longer. While passing each other in the hallway, colleagues are more likely to refer, alas, to this or that “piece.” They are even more likely to refer to an “article,” which like “piece” is a reifying noun. Both names make scholarship sound like an article/piece of clothing, rather than the nervous but exhilirating process of dressing for a safari.
These are particularly brave words from a grad student in the thick of a dissertation. They also serve as a salutary reminder of the way in which this new (or new/old) genre of blogging may help to shake up the industrial model that currently shapes much of education.
Thanks, Caleb.
I’m biased, because I write them: but it has always seemed to me that the very best thing about essays is the fact that — done well — they are their own transitive verb form made flesh. The world has plenty of nouns on people’s shelves, in filing cabinets, in drawers and on mantelpieces and tucked away in various pockets. But there are precious few transitive verbs left to stand on their own, ready to modify the entire world (and all readers) instead of a single person, place, or thing.
“Pieces” are anemic. “Articles” are space-fillers, basic information, or pedantry. Essays…essays are alchemy.
As one who has been changed for the better by your essays, time and again, right on.
To paraphrase Archimedes: give me an essay to be in, and I will move the world.