Tonya's Responses to Readings

Ely, Margot. “In-Forming Re-Presentations,” in Handbook of Narrative Inquiry: Mapping a Methodology, edited by Jean Clandinin, 567-598. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2007.

In the above reading, Ely argues for research writing that utilizes a narrative approach in its divulging of selected data. Her argument centers around the rather obvious notion that, traditionally, academic papers which share research information are boring. Furthermore, they cannot reflect truth due to the fact that the researcher has pretended, for the purposes of the paper, not to be emotionally present in the research and findings. It is her assertion that narrative inquiry provides research writers with more integrated, “unconventional” ways to present information, and that presentation would offer integrity and vantage points that may not be present in conventional research writing.

Ely offers options for inquiry. First person stories allow the writer to place themselves in the shoes of their subject and write the information from that individual’s perspective. Ely proposes using poetry, anecdote, pastiche, and drama all as varying ways to communicate research information to a reader. Layered stories, although a little more complicated, offer the writer the opportunity to write about an event or experience from the vantage point of more than one participant. Using this technique allows the reader to understand a situation from varying points of view.

Some of the most intriguing statements came at the end of the article where Ely speaks of the importance of the writer’s presence, or “personal stamp” in their narrative research. Ely states that the work of narrative research writers “must clearly stand for something. It must contribute” (596). While it is human nature to argue the merits of one contribution over another, it should be the goal of research to make the world a little better.

Friel, James. “Writing a Novel.” In The Writer’s Workbook, 2nd ed., edited by Jenny Newman, Edmund Cusick, and Aileen La Tourette, 104-122. London: Arnold, 2004.

I chose to write about this article because I felt that I could benefit from the information, particularly in regard to the final project for this class. Friel begins his chapter by explaining that there is no one formula that equals a successful novel. He instead offers a variety of suggestions designed to assist a burgeoning writer in her rudimentary attempt at autobiographical narrative. I chose the chapter on novels, not necessarily because I see myself as authoring a novel, but more because I think I may have more than a short story’s worth of autobiography stored in my noggin.

Friel’s chapter is full of great suggestions and easy-to-remember one-line mantras such as “[when] in doubt, leave it out” (121). Aside from his suggestion of developing the habit of hard work, I found the section on characterization the most helpful. I have four characters that I plan to introduce and explain in my story. It’s important to me that they be well developed and believable. I confess to a bit of disappointment in response to his admonishment to revise close to a zillion times. I was naively hoping my first or second draft would be the finished product, but that might be related to my need to “develop a habit of hard work.”

Garland-Thomson, Rosemarie. “Shape Structures Story: Fresh and Feisty Stories about Disability.” Narrative, 15, No. 1, January 2007, 113-123.

After reading this article I am acutely aware of how I am enslaved to “normal.” “Normalcy,” as Garland-Thomson explains “is the destination to which we all hasten and the stick used to drive us there” (114). She speaks of communication (film, poetry, narrative) that is created outside the boundaries of “normal.” She cites examples of this including the film Murderball and a poem penned by the “woman with juice.” Both works are about individual people and who they are rather than about their particular disabilities. The disabilities are present, but not in a cliché, patronizing way that suggests that the disability is something that must be overcome.

The strength of the article comes when the author writes her own narrative describing the SDS dance. It is so well written that I found myself wanting desperately to be included in the dance and realizing (to my surprising disappointment) that I wouldn’t fit in. This method of narrative opens up worlds to people (including myself) who need to gain a wider understanding of how to coexist. Incidentally, if one doesn’t view a broader understanding of fellow human beings as a noble venture, it’s likely that they will dismiss the idea of narrative inquiry.

Palniak, Chuck. “Escort.” Stranger Than Fiction. New York: Anchor Books, 2004.

Palniak never names the main character in this story. He instead places himself squarely into the shoes of the escort to tell the story in first person from his point of view. He describes working as volunteer and narrows the story to tell about his experience spending time with one particular young man and his mother. The young man was suffering; not only with AIDS, but with who he is and his relationship with his mother. Palniak never has to spell this out in the story in order for the reader to see the young man’s struggle. In addition, the reader is able to see how this experience is changing the main character. The story finishes with the death of the young man with AIDS. You find, as the reader, that you are moved not only by the death of the man (this you expect), but also by the peripheral events that surround his death.

After finishing this story, I think about how the main character is unable to either use or get rid of the afghans that stack up in his attic. They are handmade tokens of gratitude given to him by thankful family members. If this story were fiction, I think an author would have painstakingly devised the literary symbol of the multi-colored afghans to represent our need as human beings to simultaneously hold on to, while letting go of our mortality. Perhaps the afghans symbolize how difficult it is to deal with some of the metaphorical stuff we all have in our “attics.” But, this story is not fiction, and I am thinking (especially after experiencing our week together as a class) that all of our lives are filled with stories. We just take very little time to reflect on what we experience.

Remen, Rachel Naomi. Preface. Kitchen Table Wisdom. New York: Riverhead Books, 1996.

While only a preface, this snippet from Kitchen Table Wisdom is the narrative explanation of how Remen found the wherewithal to tell the stories that culminated in her book. In it she explains that the stories it includes are pulled from her own experiences. These stories are accounts of the experiences that shaped who she is; they are the sum total of her perceptions, personality, and character.

She is initially upset by her failure to include footnotes to accurately document and lend credence to her stories. As a physician, footnotes equal credibility, but in writing Remen discovers that credibility comes from her first person accounting of her experiences. Since she is the one whose life was changed by these experiences, we as readers are able to recognize the catalytic qualities of the stories. These qualities are recognized even when neither party - author nor reader - is able to succinctly articulate the “change agent” within the story.

On a personal note, I found that I greatly empathized with Remen’s lack of confidence in regard to her writing. It’s much easier to hide behind annotation, than to get naked with your experiences and write from whom you are. There is a belief that academic writing that is truly “objective” is the proverbial Moby Dick we all seek. Perhaps we don’t ever find it because objectivity is about as fictional as the white whale himself. It is infinitely more difficult to burrow into all of your own neuroses and write from the vantage point of that reoccurring dream where you suddenly find yourself back in high school naked (or perhaps in your underwear, if it’s a forgiving night).

Tierney, William G. “Get Real: Representing Reality.” Qualitative Studies in Education. 2002, 15, No. 4, 385-398.

I would like to begin by apologizing for the dryness of my very first response to Margot Ely’s, “Informing Re-Presentations.” While I loved all of the ideas present in Ely’s article, the math teacher portion of my personality was in great distress at the lack of boundaries. I think my dry response to her article, might have been some sort of subconscious reaction of panic to her “sky’s the limit” approach to writing.

Tierney offers some direction and boundaries to narrative research writing. I found his article a little less interesting, and a little more analytical than Ely’s. However, I was relieved to read about some of the cautionary pitfalls that may materialize for writers. One must guard against engaging in a process moved more by a desire to steer the world in the direction they have already decided it should go, and less by the desire to share their experience with the knowledge that that very experience may in fact alter current perceptions of people in the world. Tierney more eloquently explains by saying, “Although text ought to be rightfully positioned so that the author’s stance is clear, one ought not drop a concern for understanding particular phenomena, people, or ideas” (392). Reflexively (pun intended), I believe that all of Tierney’s “rules” were supposed or expected in the writing proposed and exemplified in Ely’s article. Tierney has just spelled it out and by doing so, appealed to the unpopular legalistic side of my persona.