comp/lexus

What is a "Dry" Wine, Anyway?

2010-10-15T12:28:00.001-05:00

One of my main goals in writing this column is to help readers develop their wine knowledge and, in doing so, increase their enjoyment of wine. An important part of this development is learning to use wine-specific terminology in the same ways that wine pros do. Without a common language, after all, we have no reliable way to communicate about—and learn from—our wine drinking experiences. This is especially true when two people are using the same word to mean different things, virtually guaranteeing miscommunication.

Such is often the case with the descriptor “dry.” For most novices, dryness seems to equate to a combination of astringency and bitterness. Astringency in wine is caused primarily by tannins, and it is that puckery feeling you get from over-steeped tea or accidentally chewing up a grape seed (or, if you’re a cartoon cat, accidentally sucking a pile of alum through a straw). Bitterness can be caused by a number of different factors (the presence of various phenols, certain kinds of oak, specific grape varieties and winemaking techniques), and it is—well, anybody who’s had a cheap cup of coffee knows what bitterness is.

The fact is, however, that a dry wine is simply a wine with very little residual sugar in it relative to its acidity. (Acidity mitigates sweetness; that’s why we add vinegar to a too-sweet salad dressing to make it more savory, and that’s why dessert wines with high levels of acidity taste vibrant rather than sticky and cloying.) Dryness, in short, is essentially a quantitative measurement. In the European Union, for example, wines with 4 grams of sugar or less per liter of wine (assuming a relatively low level of acidity) are considered dry.

I note this fact because I frequently hear people saying, “I don’t like dry wines,” when what they really mean is, “I don’t like bitter or astringent wines.” Many ripe, full-bodied wines can be, technically, bone-dry but still please most people’s palates with their round, easy-drinking, fruit-forward flavors. And many slightly sweet wines can still have off, bitter flavors or be astringently tannic. Being able to make this distinction when talking to a wine salesperson can help you zero in on that perfect wine. It at least reduces your risk of going home with a sweet, sticky red that tastes like it should be poured into a club soda rather than a wine glass.

So next time you go into a wine shop, instead of looking for a wine that’s not too dry, try asking for something that’s “round,” “fruit-forward,” and not too tannic or oaky (tannins and oak being major contributors to astringency and bitterness respectively). Chances are you’ll find just what you’re looking for.

Don't Judge a Wine by Its Label

2010-09-14T11:36:00.004-05:00

When I was growing up, most Americans thought there were only three kinds of wine to choose from—red, white, and white zinfandel, depending on whether one was having meat, fish, or an insulin reaction.

In the last decade and a half, though, the U.S. wine market has exploded, and now even casual wine drinkers may, over the course of a year, experiment with ten or fifteen different grape varieties from countries as diverse as the U.S., Italy, France, Spain, Australia, Chile, and Argentina.

This fact has been both a boon and a burden to the growing world wine industry. For established producers, it has meant greater sales potential but also greater competition. For those just trying to break into the market, it means unprecedented opportunity but also struggling to get consumers’ attention as they scan an ever-swelling sea of bottles on the shelf.

The result? Flashy labels designed to amuse, shock, or even titillate. There is an entire line of wines whose labels look like 50’s horror movie posters, while another bottle boasts a seductive image of Marilyn Monroe. There are in-your-face names like “Fat Bastard,” “Cleavage Creek,” and “The Bitch.” There is even a wine called “Mommy’s Time Out,” whose label depicts a single chair facing a forlorn-looking corner, suggesting, I surmise, that if the burdens of contemporary parenthood become too great, then you can always turn to closet alcoholism for help. How uplifting.

To be sure, I'm not entirely critical of this phenomenon. I know it’s hard to break into a competitive market. But there’s also a cynicism to it, namely, that most consumers will drink just about anything as long as you can get it into their hands. More often than not, then, the wines inside of these clever bottles just aren’t very good.

There are, of course, exceptions. The Australian Shiraz “Boarding Pass,” whose label looks like a plane ticket, can boast a lovely combination of intense, dark berry fruit and spicy complexity. And the impishly-titled Zinfandel “7 Deadly Zins” recently earned a coveted 90 point score from a well-known and influential wine publication.

But most good wines, from old and new producers alike, have traditional, relatively unassuming labels. After all, the bottle is just a vessel in the end. If you really want to find the best wine for whatever occasion you happen to be celebrating—whether an all-out Christmas dinner or just Spaghetti on Tuesday—then buy it from a shop where the staff know what they’re doing and can steer you in the right direction.

They may indeed point you to a fancy bottle that will also look nice on your bookshelves after you drink it. But chances are just as good that you’ll take home an off-white label with black letters. Oh, and also a delicious wine. Let’s not forget that.

Merlot Post

2010-07-15T13:24:00.003-05:00

Another wine post (with co-author Bill Stimmel, though, as always, this is one I drafted):

It’s time we put our money where our mouth is (when we write this column, we write with one voice, and, so, one mouth): in more than one column, we’ve defended Merlot against the hordes who, in a backlash against the Merlot glut of the 1990’s (and spurred on by the wildly influential film Sideways), have so abused and denigrated this once proud, noble grape that it has become a second-class citizen in the popular wine world.

It has not always been this way. Merlot actually is one of the three so-called “noble” red grapes (the others being Cabernet Sauvignon and Pinot Noir, with some people adding Syrah as a fourth), and it is of fundamental importance to the world renowned red blends of Bordeaux, second only to Cabernet Sauvignon. In fact, on the “right bank” of the Gironde river, which cuts through the heart of Bordeaux, Merlot often dominates blends, constituting 50% or more of many Chateaus’ wines. Indeed, one of the world’s most famous wines, made principally from Merlot, comes from the St. Emilion region on the “right bank:” Chateau Petrus is universally lauded as one of the best wines in the world, and individual bottles of it can sell for more than $5,000.

Outside of France, Merlot has thrived in many locations, though Chile and the west coast of the U.S. are particularly noteworthy here. Merlots from Chile can take on earthy flavors of smoke and roasted chili peppers, while California and Washington Merlots can seem to be made of pure satin, dripping with rich flavors of baked plums, red currants, chocolate, cinnamon, and other warming spices.

Indeed, it’s largely due to the success of Merlot in the “New World” that it is now so widely scoffed at: in the 1990’s, a veritable flood of Merlot swamped the U.S. market with hundreds of new bottlings, most of which were made from cheap juice that was heavily oaked to mask imperfections so that growers could capitalize on a growing trend.

Wine drinkers became justifiably suspicious, but the fact is that there have always been good Merlots out there at all price points. One of the beauties of the grape is that, while it can certainly be made into world-class, age-worthy wines with bold tannins and firm structure, it also grows well in less-than-perfect sites and can yield, with a little care, an easy-drinking, fruit-forward wine that still has some personality—some earthy notes, perhaps, or a hint of cocoa.

In short, we think Miles, of Sideways fame, was just being snobby when, in a full-on tantrum, he exclaimed (rather infamously), “I am not drinking any (expletive) Merlot!” He may have had a great palate, but we can have more class—and a good glass of Merlot to boot.

Why I Think the Tea Party Movement is Racist

2010-06-09T10:27:00.003-05:00

For once, I'm not posting about wine. This is a response to a Facebook post from the politicially-oriented, very conservative "Johnny's Blog Thingy!!!" that links to a video of a tea party rally in which non-ranting, patriotic people are stirred by a retired Marine's spontaneous singing of the last verse of the Star-Spangled Banner. The upshot of the post is that tea partyers are not ranting, raving, racist lunatics but are, rather, concerned patriots who are acting together to make their nation a better place.

I am certain that, despite what seems to me to be a just-barely-concealed current of real, and fierce, anger running throughout the tea party movement, most of the movement’s adherents are just like this guy and the people cheering him—honest patriots who want their country to be the greatest nation on earth and a beacon of freedom to all people.

But what most of them don’t realize is that the very idea that there is a left that is systematically waging a war on Judeo-Christian values has an insidious kind of racism built into it, even if that racism is not something consciously promulgated by the people whose actions nevertheless have this ill effect. (But I also think it's time for Americans to acknowledge that the kind of vicious racism many of us thought died with the last generation and the success of civil rights has not gone away and is still frighteningly, distressingly common.) What seems like an onslaught from the left is, far more often than not (and with full acknowledgement that the left has its share of nut cases, too) an attempt to make the U.S. a place that is open and welcoming to people who can’t trace their roots back to Thomas Jefferson, or William Penn, or one of the people on the Mayflower. It’s an effort to acknowledge that the history of the U.S. is more than just the chopped down apple tree, Davy Crockett, the shores of Tripoli, and the Saturday Evening Post. But it’s precisely this opening up of culture—this acknowledgement that we are, and always have been, a deeply, profoundly, multi-ethnic, multilingual, multi-religion society—that feels like an attack to most conservatives and especially tea-party folks (who, despite the color of the man in the video, are an overwhelmingly white group), for whom the privilege that comes with being white and Christian in this country has never felt like privilege—only like basic fairness. This sense that some better, apple-pie-eating, God-fearing America has been lost and needs to be regained is, by and large, a reaction to the increasingly officially acknowledged, if also to many people unsettling, reality that U.S. history, and the U.S. itself, is far more complex and multi-colored than most of us Christian white folks ever knew, or ever could have known.

Put simply, it boils down to this: we’ve had the luxury of having our stories about the history and identity and character of the U.S. be the stories about the history and identity and character of the country. But there are lots of stories that can be told, and lots of ways to tell them. When it’s done right—as it most often is—righting that wrong is what the so-called PC revolution has been about.

I know we all have equal rights under the law. But the U.S. has always been a place that favors white Christians in terms of actual opportunity and actual justice. So even the recourse to such standards as “the law of the land” or, in educational settings, “basics,” “merit,” or “achievement” is in effect racist, because they assume that theoretical equality is the same as actual equality, when in fact legal rights and educational opportunities have always been distributed very much in favor of “us” and against “them.” My hope is that this point, articulated as I just have, resonates with the right wing of this country, who have always been distrustful of theory and its potential to be utterly disconnected from reality.

So when I think of, and portray in my own work, the far right in this country as racist, I do so with the understanding that racist effects can emanate from actions based on motives that feel pure, and even altruistic, to the people committing those actions. It’s time for all of us to acknowledge that fact and work together to build a truly, and fully democratic America, both in theory and in practice.

For other writings of mine along these lines, see this facebook exchange and this previous post on this blog.

What, Exactly, are Tannins?

2010-05-25T11:08:00.002-05:00

Another wine column from Bill Stimmel and me (though I only post here the columns that I'm wholly or primarily responsible for drafting):

It’s the question everybody wants to ask but is too intimidated to: What are tannins? The technical answer is that tannins are bitter-tasting polyphenols that, in grapes, are present in largest quantities in the seeds, skins, and stems. Tannins’ astringent flavors are responsible for the sensation you sometimes get from red wines, or from over-steeped tea—the one where your gums stick to your teeth and you feel like Tom after Jerry tricks him into sucking up a pile of alum.

So why don’t winemakers try to keep tannins out of their wines? Because tannins only make you feel as if your mouth was sandblasted with sidewalk chalk when they are either too “green” or when their levels are so high they overwhelm other elements of the wine. When they are fully “ripe” (which is not the same thing as ripeness of fruit—getting these two levels in sync is one of the signature challenges of great winemaking), tannins provide “structure;” by virtue of the tactile sensation they cause in the mouth, tannins work with a wine’s acidity to keep big, high-alcohol wines from tasting flat and lifeless. Tannins are also preservatives: when a young wine is overpowered by tannins, if they are ripe enough, that same wine ten, even twenty years later will have had time to develop a sensual, earthy depth, while at the same time the tannins will have softened and faded into the supporting role they were meant to play. Finally, tannins can also help red wines stand up to aggressively flavored foods. A tannic wine that is off-putting on its own may sing like the Vienna Boys’ Choir with a char-grilled steak.

One of the most famously tannic grapes is Cabernet Sauvignon, and winemakers often accentuate a truly great Cabernet’s tannins by leaving it in contact with the skins, seeds, and stems for longer than they would if they were going for a fruitier style meant to be drunk young. In fact, world class Cabernets often need ten or more years of aging before their tannins mellow, allowing the grape’s naturally earthy flavors and aromas to emerge in ways that less tannic, fruit-driven Cabernets just can’t match. Think of an aged wine as a stew: you can get good flavor in one or two hours (mostly from showy aromatics, herbs, and spices—things that yield big flavor quickly), but for a stew to achieve true depth and complexity, it needs long, slow simmering. Another grape almost infamous for its tannins is Nebbiolo, the grape responsible for the legendary Italian wines Barolo and Barbaresco.

Not all red wines are tannic beasts, nor do they need to be. We love easy-drinking, fruit-forward reds. But the next time you throw a porterhouse on a blazing grill, try pairing it with a five-to-ten-year-old California Cabernet Sauvignon, or another good-quality tannic wine. You won’t regret it.

Tips for Teaching Yourself about Wine

2010-05-03T16:11:00.004-05:00

I'm not yet ready to turn this blog into a wine-only blog, though that's what it's been in principle for quite a while now. I may still have other things, even rhetoric- and writing-related things, to say in the future. For now, though, here's a recently-run column from Bill Stimmel and me (it ran in the Bowling Green [OH] Sentinel-Tribune):

People always ask us how we learned so much about wine. And while we admit that we have much more to learn, the simple answer is that we read about, taste, and talk about wine as often as we can. In this column, we want to elaborate on these simple strategies, which can help you build your experience and knowledge and which in turn will offer you heightened satisfaction from your wine drinking experiences.

When learning about wine, reading is vital, and there are many different sources of good information. For general information, books are indispensable resources. Sources like our favorite, Karen MacNiel’s Wine Bible, are full of information and tips about winemaking, world wine regions, wine purchasing and storing, major and lesser-known grapes, tasting techniques, and pairing wine with food that are a must for building basic knowledge. There are also a number of wine books devoted to more in-depth information, focusing on specific subjects like wines from a single grape or region, though we recommend these as supplements to the required general reading. And, for more time-sensitive and topical information, a periodic publication like Wine Spectator would be a perfect choice. Even the internet is full of information that is only a Google search away (though you need to make sure you wind up on a site run by a person or people who know what they’re talking about).

Tasting, of course, is a key counterpart to reading, and any tasting is better than none. But there is a way to maximize your learning from tasting: taste systematically. While it’s ok to go to a tasting with whites and reds from all over the world, it’s also important to seek out—or engineer for yourself—opportunities to taste together (or over a short period of time) many wines from the same grape and region. Doing so helps you develop a sense of a grape’s and a region’s signature qualities (body, color, aroma, flavor, etc.). You’ll be surprised at how proud you feel the first time you’re able to note that a California Sauvignon Blanc has New Zealand-like tropical fruit, or that a Napa Cabernet Sauvignon has Bordeaux-like earthiness. And, with focused tasting, it doesn’t take all that long to learn to do so.

Finally, it is vital to talk about wine with fellow wine lovers. Sharing your wine experiences and interests with others, and listening as they share theirs with you, can stimulate curiosity, broaden your knowledge, and create a sense of community that can only make drinking wine more fun and more satisfying. After all, wine, like food, is a way of bringing people together to celebrate, to build friendships, and to cement social and cultural bonds. It is, in short, a way of making us more human.

So take our advice. After all, the world needs a little more humanity.

Riesling Column

2010-03-09T22:01:00.003-05:00

Coming this Thursday in the Bowling Green (OH) Sentinel-Tribune:

Let’s just admit it: nobody does Riesling better than Germany. German Rieslings can be so utterly pure, so clean, that drinking them is like “drinking the tears of angels,” as one of our cheekier friends recently put it.

And that’s exactly what German winemakers want. While Rieslings from a region like France’s Alsace might tend toward richness and full body, German winemakers revel in the mouthwatering crispness, sleek minerality, and tart green apple and pear flavors that they see as the grape’s most compelling expression.

Though tart, however, many German Rieslings also have a touch of sweetness, which explains their reputation as cloying, saccharine wines better suited for pouring on pancakes than drinking. But this reputation is undeserved, for two reasons. First, many German Rieslings are quite dry, though these can admittedly be hard to find in grocery stores. Second, great sweet German Rieslings inevitably boast such precise, lightning-tinged acidity that their sweetness, far from being overwrought, is all that keeps them from bolting out of the glass, resulting in a wine so perfectly suspended between sweet and tart, rich and gossamer, that it almost levitates in your mouth.

Finding a good German Riesling, moreover, isn’t terribly difficult. You need only follow some simple guidelines (assuming, of course, you’re not near a computer with which you can find all you need to know online). First, look for wines with “QmP” on the label. This stands for “Qualitätswein mit Prädikat,” or “quality wine with special attributes,” and this group of wines marks Germany’s highest classification. (QbA wines—“Qualitätswein bestimmter Anbaugebiet,” or “quality wine from a specific region”—can also be good, though they will tend to be more hit-or-miss.) Second, look at the alcohol level printed on the label. Lower alcohol (8-10%) generally means sweeter wine, since less sugar was metabolized into alcohol during fermentation. (Knowing a wine’s level of sweetness may not tell you much about its quality, but it can tell you how it will match up with your palate.) You can also look to a further set of terms for guidance: QmP wines are subdivided, from least to most ripe, into the categories Kabinett, Spätlese, Auslese, Beerenauslese, and Trockenbeerenauslese. Just be careful here, since, until you get to the Beerenauslese level, wine from very ripe grapes can still taste dry if all the sugar is allowed to be converted during fermentation, which is why alcohol levels can be helpful guides. And, finally, if you’re at a real wine shop, never be afraid to ask for help.

While we could say more about German Riesling, we hope we’ve at least piqued your curiosity enough to convince you to try a few. Not every bottle will taste like angels’ tears, but if one even comes close, you will never look at Riesling the same way again. Hallelujah.

Pinot Noir Column

2010-02-05T14:59:00.007-05:00

Here's the latest wine column. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, and I don't even mind the melodramatic overstatement about pinot's potential to inspire poetic reverie. Maybe somebody will read it and discover pinot noir and Keats:

Of all the grapes we’ve written about, pinot noir probably has the most cachet in the U.S. market—a fact attributable to Miles, the struggling writer, wine snob, and fictional main character of the 2004 film Sideways. Miles’ wistful rumination on the delicate beauty of pinot noir elevates it from mere grape to object of literary inspiration every bit the equal of the Elgin marbles or a Grecian urn.

And for good reason. As Miles says, pinot noir is very hard to grow and vinify. It is subject to rot, it ripens unevenly, and one wrong step in the winemaking and you’ve got vintage vinegar. But, when it is treated just right, under perfect conditions, it can produce a wine so graceful and delicate—so full of utterly supple fruit and seductive, earthy flavors and aromas—that, as Miles put it, it is “haunting.”

The bad news is that its mercurial temperament makes pinot noir very expensive, which means we wine lovers of average means will probably only ever get to taste a handful of truly haunting pinots. Fortunately, less-than-literary pinot noirs can, and often do, still taste great. Pinots from France’s Burgundy region can be affordable and still show off the grape’s lively acidity and sensuous, mushroom-like earthiness. Many Oregon pinot noirs (which are often compared to Burgundies) boast invigorating, virtually electric acidity and flavors of black and red cherry, cola, and damp leaves. California also produces many wonderful pinots, ranging in style from full-bodied to every bit as sleek as those from Oregon and Burgundy. And let’s not forget New Zealand, many of whose pinots almost vibrate with mouthwatering grapefruit and other citrus notes.

When you do choose a bottle and get it home, then, you should look for these qualities:

1. The fruit tastes ripe without being overly concentrated or “jammy.” Pinots are about subtlety. Warmer climate pinots may push this rule a bit, but they should never drink like “fruit bombs.” Conversely, Burgundies often have notable tartness, which can be turned into an asset by pairing them with a creamy, earthy cheese like Brie.

2. It has a light- to medium-bodied mouthfeel. Rich, syrupy syrahs may taste delicious, but that kind of heaviness in a pinot will kill any nuance the wine might have had.

3. There is plenty of acidity. Just as a delicate sauce like hollandaise needs fresh lemon juice to wake it up, pinot noir needs acidity to give lift to its subtle flavors. Pinots without enough acidity taste “flabby” and lifeless.

Use these criteria, and with a little practice you’ll be an able and confident judge of your own pinot noir experiences. And should you, in your wisdom, find one that haunts you, you’ll finally be able to wax poetic on something besides that old vase on your mantle.

Any Ideas?

2010-01-06T21:52:00.005-05:00

As you know if you've read this blog lately, I've been writing a wine column for some time now--nine months, give or take.

The column, as you might have guessed, is strictly small potatoes. My co-author and I have abstract plans to establish a blog or a website devoted solely to the column (whereas this is my personal blog), but for now we're a one-newspaper, no-pay operation with no effective mechanism for getting reader feedback. I guess people just don't write letters to the editor complaining that the wine guys are giving Burgundy short shrift. Needless to say, we'd love to know what people are finding interesting, helpful, etc. Even more than that, though, we'd love to know what sorts of topics our readers are interested in so we can write about them.

So I'm asking a favor: if you come here for the wine columns, leave a comment about something you're curious about but haven't seen from us (or, since this is my personal blog, from me). If we don't already have an existing piece that addresses your questions, we'll see what we can do about whipping one up. And if we do have one, I'll post it here.

I may be away from the blog for a couple of days, but rest assured my co-author and I will pay close attention to what you say.

In the meantime, here are our thoughts on Tuscan wines:

Versatile Tuscany Offers Choice of Luxury or Value

When we set out to write the “Italian” column, we quickly realized that there’s not enough space on this whole page, let alone in this column, to do justice to such a huge topic. Italy boasts so many wines and wine regions that just listing them would use more than our allotted column space. Fortunately, wines from one of Italy's greatest wine regions, Tuscany, are widely available—and at a wide range of price points—in the U.S.

Tuscany forms what would be the top half of the shin in Italy’s famous boot shape. Both red and white wines are produced there, but the reds—which will be our focus here—definitely steal the show. Tuscany’s two most renowned reds are Chianti and Brunello di Montalcino. Wines from Chianti Classico (the subregion where the best Chiantis are generally found) tend toward cherry and plum fruit with spice and leather notes adding complexity. They are not generally deep, brooding wines, but rather medium-bodied reds with bright acidity, making them quite versatile food wines. They pair well with anything from rich fish like salmon to grilled red meats. Brunello di Montalcino, on the other hand, tends toward darker fruit, deeper, richer earth and leather notes, and ultra-sensual dried mushroom aromas and flavors. The best Brunellos are truly rare wines, and their price shows it. While you can find a good Chianti Classico for as little as $30, you won’t even find an entry-level Brunello in a wine shop for less than $60 or $70.

Despite the magnificence of Chianti Classico and Brunello di Montalcino, we find wines simply labled “Tuscany” or “Toscana” to the most exciting, especially for the average consumer in search of good values. Wines with this more general label are subject to far fewer restrictions than wines from specific regions like Chianti (where winemakers are limited to certain proportions of certain grapes with specific aging requirements), giving them more opportunity for creativity and innovation. What’s more, while many of these wines—the ones known as “Super Tuscans”—can be very expensive and mind-blowingly good (think Bordeaux, but gamier and more powerful), there are also a number of simple but delicious ones out there. These wines tend to be more New World in style, with more obviously fruit-driven flavors, but they will give you a glimpse of Tuscany’s brilliance at a fraction of the price of its more majestic wines.

As you can see, it’s a struggle just to squeeze a sliver of Tuscany into a column of this size, never mind Italy. If your curiosity has been piqued, however, we encourage you to read more on your own. And if you find yourself needing help with some on-site research in Chianti or Montalcino, give us a call. We work cheap.

Cabernet Sauvignon Column

2009-12-05T21:33:00.003-05:00

It's always hard to write an informative wine column in only 450 words (give or take), but this time was almost impossible. Cabernet sauvignon is just too good and too interesting. Difficulty notwithstanding, here's the latest column:

Despite our recently professed love for syrah, cabernet sauvignon continues to deserve its long-held title as the “king of grapes.” At its best, it surpasses all other grapes in taste, texture, and balance, yielding a wine of such stunning depth and impossible smoothness that to drink it is quite simply to experience bliss. At such moments, one feels as if the glass contains pure liquid satin infused with hypnotic currant, plum, earth, leather, and spice notes. Few gastronomic experiences even approach comparison.

Like most wines, cabernet sauvignon is often categorized as “New World” or “Old World.” New world examples tend to be very ripe, full-bodied wines with sweet fruit balanced by herbal and spice notes. While Chile and Australia produce excellent ones, the dominant source of outstanding New World cabernet is California, which produces a dizzying number of world class cabs and has done so for decades. But we’re also extremely excited about Washington state, which now produces several bottlings that are, by most accounts, as good as or even better than California’s most revered legends. In fact, many experts predict that Washington will someday replace California as the United States’ premiere region for cabernet sauvignon.

By far the most famous, and most would say the best, source of Old World cabernet sauvignon is the Bordeaux region of France, where many of the wines are blends consisting of 75% or more cabernet sauvignon. While often winemakers do not list the grapes that make up their wines, a few minutes on the internet will usually reveal the blend. (Incidentally, many U.S. cabernet sauvignons are blends as well; U.S. law requires that a wine labeled with a specific grape name consist of at least 75% of that varietal, leaving room for wines made from other grapes to be added for balance and complexity.) But brilliant examples can also be found in southern France as well as in Italy, where many “Super Tuscans” are composed of a majority of cabernet sauvignon. In contrast to their New World counterparts, these European cabernets tend to favor elegance over brawn, with subdued fruit and more prominent earth and leather notes.

As you might expect, however, perfection comes with a price. High end cabernets often retail for $125 or more. And, unlike syrah, good cabernet sauvignon rarely costs less than $20. But, as we see it, the Holiday season—with its requisite procession of succulent roasted meats and rich cheeses—marks the perfect occasion for splurging on a special bottle. If you do decide to splurge, though, get help. There’s nothing worse (in the context of wine-drinking) than an astringent, overly-tannic cabernet that you just blew $40 on. But, then again, there’s nothing better than a good one.

Thanksgiving Wine Column

2009-11-10T14:42:00.003-05:00

This one will be coming out in the Bowling Green Sentinel-Tribune Thursday, so I'm scooping myself (and my co-author).

It's a very revised and expanded version of my first Thanksgiving beverage post on this blog. And you'll notice that I incorporated the advice K8 mentions in her comment. It was good advice.

Choosing Thanksgiving Wine (and Why It’s So Difficult)

Every year about this time, food and lifestyle magazines and TV shows begin the desperate, ritual flailing that is the search for the perfect Thanksgiving wine. Why? Because this industry depends on (among other things) its ability to give good, simple advice, which, when it comes to finding a trusty Thanksgiving wine, is about as easy as writing a one-sentence summary of War and Peace.

That’s why, recently, we’ve seen dozens of wines—practically the gamut of whites, rosés, and reds—recommended as the ideal choice for Thanksgiving. Still, we do have some general advice—beyond, of course, just going with beer or cider (though we wouldn’t fault you for that).

If you can afford it, let your guests choose from a range of wines. Two whites and two reds (one full-bodied, one light-to-medium-bodied in each category) will virtually ensure that there’s a wine available to please every palate. And if you really want to be thorough, throw in a crisp, dry rosé. (Some guests may also want to try different wines with different courses, if there are courses.)

But holidays are expensive, and we understand that you may want to save money by finding one good pairing for the meal. If so, then the first thing to do is to throw taste out the window. You’ll never find a perfect match for the combined flavors of turkey, sweet potatoes (with or without marshmallows), mashed potatoes, stuffing (which itself can contain half of your pantry), green bean casserole, and cranberry sauce.

In place of flavor, we recommend you focus on the weight of the meal. Since it is rich, filling, and rustically-textured (if a Christmas crown rib with demi-glace is a satin gown, turkey with gravy is a flannel lumberjack shirt) a typical Thanksgiving meal can benefit greatly from a streamlined, crisp, and elegantly-styled wine—one with enough acidity to cut through the richness of the food and cleanse your palate between bites.

What wines fit this bill? Just about any style or varietal known for high acidity, if it is done well, is a good option here: sauvignon blanc and riesling stand out as obvious choices for whites, while pinot noir and Chianti (sangiovese) stand out among the reds.

But the best option of all, in our opinion, is one with bubbles, like Champagne, Cava, Prosecco, or a nice Champagne-style sparkler from California. The heady effervescence and almost poignant acidity of a good sparkler will make the whole meal—maybe the whole day!—seem lighter and fresher.

Then maybe, just maybe, you’ll make it through the first half of the Lions’ game before drifting off to dreams of sugarplums and the next holiday’s bacchanalia. And, of course, you can look forward to our column about that one, too.

An Original Short Story 2

2009-10-14T13:24:00.003-05:00

Again, by Olivia Massey, age 3:

Quack Quack

The giant scared Jack and the Beanstalk. Then Jack got a cow. Then a wild tree came and crunched his bones and then put new bones in. And then an apple slice came and it wanted to take his bones and it gave him a lot of new bones. Sometimes the duck said, "Quack, Quack," and it had to go poopy.

An Original Short Story

2009-10-12T19:58:00.004-05:00

By Olivia Massey, age 3 (as recorded by her father):

Superheroes

The bumblebee didn't sting me. It didn't have a mouth and it didn't sting me. And then the other time it stinged me a little but it didn't hurt. Then he got chalk on his hands and had chalk hands. And then a bee just liked my flower and I wanted him to have my flower so I shared. And then I like singing "Hip Hip Hooray! The Superheroes saved the day!"

Remediation

2009-07-29T19:02:00.008-05:00

Seen on old Route 66 outside of Springfield, MO:

Now if only someone would remediate the Smoky and the Bandit theme song, substituting Heaven for Texarkana. And I don't know what to make of the alien. Did Buzz Aldrin (he's the "real live astronaut") see one or something?

Another Wine Column

2009-07-22T20:01:00.005-05:00

My co-author and I take turns writing our semi-weekly wine column (we each offer feedback on the other's before it goes out). Here's one I wrote that came out yesterday. It's about the ways oenophiles describe the flavors and aromas of wines. Of all the columns I've written, this one draws the most on my training in rhetoric, especially the not to kairos in my discussion of wine tastings as specific moments. Here it is:

Like any subculture, the world of wine that is so dear to us and our fellow oenophiles (that is, wine lovers) can seem—with its rituals and jargon—downright silly to some. Swirling your glass, sticking your nose in it for a sniff, swishing the wine around in your mouth: these practices are, admittedly, easy targets for satire. But no ritual is an easier mark than how we describe the wines themselves, using terms like “barnyard,” “hot dog,” and even “diesel fuel” to capture their tastes and aromas.

And we’re ok with that. After all, if you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at? We love it, for example, when the über-pretentious Miles, from the film Sideways—you know, the one who won’t drink Merlot because he thinks it’s pedestrian—describes a wine as having “just a flutter of, like, a nutty Edam cheese,” even though we see more than a bit of ourselves in the caricature.

Yet, fun as they may be to lampoon, such descriptions are also deeply communicative. In addition to (and perhaps even more important than) conveying simple sensory impressions like taste and smell, they evoke feelings and moods, suggesting holistic impressions that capture the full range of the tasting experience.

After all, tasting a wine isn’t just about gathering information. It’s also about the ineffably rich texture of a moment—season, time of day, setting, circumstances, company, and of course the wine itself. All these things come together to form a single, unique event. Are the other tasters lighthearted, or are they tired from a long work week? Are you tasting wines from the same region, or are they all over the map? Can you smell the bakery next door? Is it cold outside? Did you wear your new pants? There are an infinite number of factors that affect your perception of a tasting. How could describing a wine as merely “a dry red, full-bodied, with dark berry fruit” do justice to such a moment?

If you’re still not convinced, though, then consider one other reason: some wines are just so special that they defy simple, straightforward descriptions; each sip is an experience in itself. For example, Lance once described a Hungarian dessert wine as “apricot syrup infused with medicinal herbs and cigarette tobacco, which transsubstantiates into sweet pipe tobacco on the improbably long finish. This is Sauternes after reading Kafka.” At that moment he couldn’t have said it any other way or—modesty aside—any better.

So we’ll continue to be easy targets for satire, and we’ll even send ourselves up now and then. But we wouldn’t quit describing wines this way for all the minty, peppery, graphite-laced wine in France.

Finding Value Wine

2009-06-02T09:14:00.007-05:00

A friend of mine, Bill Stimmel, and I, write a wine column for our local paper. Since we own the copyright, and since the paper doesn't pay us for the column, I thought I'd post one of our recent columns here. Pragmatically, I want to keep this blog moving forward with new content, but I also hope one or two of you might actually find the advice helpful. If you do, let me know. (And remember, this was originally composed for a small daily newspaper, not for the academic blogosphere.)

Here's the text:

Despite what you may have heard, there is a sea of delicious wines out there that sell for not much money —often less than $10. But there is also plenty of junk floating around in that sea, especially below that magic $10 mark. (Below that point it takes serious skill, care, and luck to craft a wine without unpleasantly bitter or sour flavors.) So how does one find the good stuff?

There’s no foolproof strategy, and the best (and most fun) approach is simply to experiment. If you like a wine you’ve tried, write it down—what grape or grapes it was made from, what year it was made, where it comes from. Then try buying wines of similar prices from the same grapes, region, and/or year. Once you’ve explored some possibilities, making sure to keep a record of your successes, try a different grape or region and start the process again. Pretty soon, you’ll have a nice list of go-to value wines.

But we also know that nobody wants to go through several lackluster bottles just to find a good one. Even a $10 investment is not one most of us make lightly. So here are some tips. They’re not foolproof; you will still run into the occasional dud. But, if you follow these pointers, your odds of discovering great value wines will go up considerably:

1. Look for grapes that tend to yield good wines at lower prices. Grapes with strong fruit character like zinfandel or syrah (also known as shiraz), and grapes with soft, rounded flavors like merlot often do well in simple, inexpensive forms.

2. Try wines from up-and-coming regions and countries. You can find outstanding deals on wines from Chile, Australia, South Africa, and lesser known regions in Spain (two of our favorites are Jumilla and Calatayud).

3. Explore whites. Because white wines tend to contain almost no tannins, it is generally easier to achieve a tasty, unadorned fruitiness with whites. We find chenin blanc especially approachable.

4. Go to tastings. A wine tasting is a perfect way to try wines you think you might like without draining your wallet. Check with local merchants to find out when and where you can find a tasting.

5. Keep your eyes and ears open. What are people at tastings, at parties, and in online forums raving about? You can find some real gems this way.

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with that mass-produced, $6.99 merlot on the grocery store shelf. If you enjoy it, drink it. But also try branching out. We have the most fun when we’re discovering new, exciting wines and learning about the places they come from. We hope you will, too.

Our recommendations:

Man Vintners Chenin Blanc 2008 ($6.99). Crisp and refreshing, like a Granny Smith apple. Would be a very versatile food wine, to be paired with anything from Thai curry to chicken salad to grilled pork chops.
Casillero del Diablo Carmenère 2007 ($10.99). Rich, full-bodied, and spicy, with surprisingly complex flavors reminiscent of blackberries, pepper, and coffee. A steal at this price.
Las Rocas Garnacha 2006 ($12.99). A perennial value, with supple raspberry fruit and wonderfully sensual earth and spice notes. The perfect bridge between the “New World” (ripe, rich, fruit-driven) and “Old World” (subtle, nuanced, earthy) styles.
Penfold’s Koonunga Hill Shiraz/Cabernet 2006 ($9.99). Big, chocolaty, and bursting with ripe berries, this full-bodied red shows enough balance and structure to stand up to the heartiest grilled or roasted meats and even has some aging potential.

Get Out the Vote

2009-05-05T09:40:00.004-05:00

I knew it had been a long time since I posted. But March 18? Jeez. In lieu of an actual post, then (I'm still not in blog mode), I'll just do some shameless self promotion.

Update: I got 2nd place in the New Yorker Caption contest. At least the one I lost to was funny.

Apparently, I write about wine. A lot.

2009-03-18T13:58:00.001-05:00

From Wordle:

What's the Deal?

2009-03-09T13:32:00.003-05:00

Does anybody know what is going on with the Journal of Writing Research? Issue 1:1 came out last June, and the website mentions 3-4 issues per year. But there's been nothing since.

There are lots of reasons a journal might move more slowly than anticipated. I'm just hoping that that's what's happening, and not that the economic maelstrom has claimed another victim.

1st Amendment, 1; Sanity, 0

2009-02-20T09:49:00.006-05:00

How will they keep from putting each other in the bags?

Tasting Notes (Feb. 12): Cabernet Sauvignon, Or, Hail to the King

2009-02-16T23:38:00.003-05:00

Cross-posted from Grape and Grain.

As much I've been into syrahs lately, I have to admit that cabernet sauvignon is still the one grape that, when it soars to the heights it's capable of, can mesmerize like no other wine, with simultaneous strength, balance, concentration, elegance, and sheer flavor. As (potentially) an "iron fist in a velvet glove," cabernet, when done well, deserves its reputation as the king of grapes.

Now, the notes:

1. Clos du Marquis 2002 (Bordeaux, France; $49.99/bottle)
Still somewhat young at seven years old, this medium-full-bodied Bordeaux (the "second" bottling of Chateau Leoville la Cases) is nevertheless drinking beautifully, with a spicy, earthy nose and gorgeous flavors of black currant, tar, leather, dried leaves, and a hint of wet stone. Balanced and very smooth. Excellent. Rating: 93

2. Cignale 2001 (Tuscany, Italy; $72.99/bottle)
Full-bodied, sweetly ripe, and incredibly sensuous, with almost primordially earthy flavors and aromas of black plum, mushrooms, animal hide, chocolate, and spice. Beautiful. Rating: 94

3. Columbia Crest Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon (Washington; $34.99/bottle)
The first time I tried this wine (last week) I thought it was lackluster, but it was my first sample of the day, and I didn't go back. This time, with some warm-up samples under my belt, I saw this wine's charms: bright acidity and sweet, jammy plum and rhubarb fruit are laced with rich vanilla and lead to a lively, licorice-tinged finish. A bit one-note, but it's a good note. Rating: 91

4. Schweiger Cabernet Sauvignon 2003 (Napa; $49.99/bottle)
Full-bodied and very smooth, with black currant, black earth, spice, and tar notes. Ripe, well-integrated tannins and acidity from the cool Spring Mountain fruit lend a hard-to-resist elegance. Drinking beautifully now, but may not hit full stride for another 3-5 years. Rating: 93

5. Los Vascos Cabernet Sauvignon Colchagua Reserve 2004 (Colchagua, Chile; 16.99/bottle)
Very big, bold, and concentrated, this South American cabernet is not for the faint of heart. Full-bodied, with assertive flavors of blackberry, earthy leather, and (telltale Chilean) baked stuffed bell pepper. A bit rough around the edges, but overall not bad (and a decent value). Rating: 86

6. Vinum Africa 2006 (South Africa; $17.99/bottle)
With a nose of currant, plum, smoke, and pepper, this medium-full-bodied cabernet is super-smoky on the palate, with round but penetrating blackberry fruit and chewy, peppery tannins. Bold, classic South African wine. Think BBQ. Rating: 88

Re-Working (a Metaphor)

2009-02-09T13:36:00.019-05:00

We're talking about the difference between revising and editing in my "grammar for language arts teachers" class today, and that has got me thinking about writing teachers' penchant for literalizing the term revision as re-vision, re-seeing.

I've accepted and even used that literalized sense myself, but there's always been something about it that didn't feel quite right. As I was preparing for class today, though, what had been a vague, gut-level dissonance emerged into the light of consciousness: To me, re-seeing implies wholesale change--a total do-over. Of course, it is possible to re-see as a way to solve a problem with an existing argument and, so, to not completely scrap what's already there. But the term definitely tends toward the global: To truly revise, you have to re-see your writing, to understand it in a wholly new sense.

But sometimes revision doesn't require re-seeing. Sometimes it just takes a lot of brain-wrenching labor to get your writing where you've always wanted it to go in the first place. When that's the case, one is less re-seeing one's writing than re-working it.

Why bother with the distinction? For one, I think re-working gets closer than re-seeing to the heart of why so many of our students seem not to be able, or not to want, to engage in deep, meaningful revision of their writing. While it's true that students who fail to engage in deep revision often do so because they can't "see" what needs to happen in their writing, the nature of that blindness stems not from lack of knowledge but from lack of having powered through three, five, ten hours of cross-eyed attempts to figure out what, exactly, it is that they're not seeing. Or, more precisely, the lack of knowledge itself is a lack of work, and vice versa.

For their writing to be good, most people have to be willing to put in what amounts to more work on the revision than they did on the first (or second, or seventh) draft. "Re-working" may not have the benefit of cleverness that the vision/seeing wordplay did at one time, but it more than makes up for lack of wit in its simple, if somewhat brutish, precision.

(Potential) Injustice and the Rhetoric of Duty

2009-02-06T13:49:00.017-05:00

I found the "Officer Down Memorial Page"--and specifically this entry on Pierce City, Missouri police officer R.J. Chappell--after doing some research to find out more about the Pierce City race-cleansing of 1901, in which a gun-toting, torch-wielding mob drove around 200 blacks out of town. In the process, the mob killed three black residents of Pierce City and attempted to kill many more, after the alleged murder of a white woman by a black man.

One of the people killed by the mob was Pete Hampton, who was suspected of having killed Chappell the year before. But, given Southwest Missouri's racial climate at the time, how, I wonder, can people today be so sure that Chappell was a faithful public servant? His memorial webpage reads: "You have served your country and community with devotion, courage and valor. You will not be forgotten. I know the Lord has said to thee, 'Enter faithful servant in whom I am well pleased.'"

Assuming that Pete Hampton was involved in Chappell's killing, is it really not possible to imagine a scenario in which Hampton acted in self-defense against someone he perceived, possibly even rightly, as a threat to his life? After all, since even in turn-of-the-20th-century SW Missouri, Hampton was only suspected and not tried or convicted, the details of the shooting must be unknown. Without having done a lot of archival footwork about Chappell himself, how is it possible to know that he was a fair man and not a petty thug? How is it possible to know that he wasn't trying to kill Chappell or to pin a crime on him that he didn't commit?

Such a seemingly innocuous tribute is to me a chilling illustration of how the rhetoric of duty, of "devotion, courage, and valor," can (even if only potentially), by virtue of its blanket applicability and immunity to context, allow specific acts of injustice to be exonerated by the broad blanket of honor wearing a uniform seems to provide.

The August 25, 1901 St. Louis Post-Dispatch ran a detailed story of the Pierce City race cleansing. The text is reproduced on the Chappell memorial page, but below is a (very big) jpeg image of the original article. Some time I'll write about the events themselves:

Carlin on the Repressive Hypothesis

2009-02-05T14:06:00.003-05:00

George Carlin died less than a year ago, so there’s still a fair amount of hyperbolic rhetoric about his comedic greatness floating around. (His posthumous, November receipt of the Twain award has no doubt helped.) Not that he wasn’t a great comic; he was. But so far nobody seems willing to point out how strained a lot of his concepts were, despite how brilliant the tirades they enabled often undoubtedly were. (A house is nothing more than a place where you keep your stuff? Really?) Even the good folks at Slate’s “Cultural Gabfest” take him to task more for his very brand of humor than for its occasional lapses in execution.

But the “seven dirty words” routine was, and is, brilliant from start to finish. And the best part of it—despite what I would have told you when I was 12 years old—is not the part where he says the seven words. Not even close. It’s the intro material, where Carlin says about profanity in a few brilliant lines what Foucault labored to say about sexuality in a whole book.

Foucault:

….Without even having to pronounce the word, modern prudishness was able to ensure that one did not speak of sex, merely through the interplay of prohibitions that referred back to one another: instances of muteness which, by dint of saying nothing, imposed silence. Censorship.
Yet when one looks back over the last three centuries with their continual transformations, things appear in a very different light: around and apropos of sex, one sees a veritable discursive explosion.
….There was a steady proliferation of discourses concerned with sex….

And Carlin:

We have more ways to describe dirty words than we actually have dirty words. That seems a little strange to me. It seems to indicate that somebody was awfully interested in these words. They call them bad words, dirty, filthy, foul, vile, vulgar, coarse, in poor taste, unseemly, street talk, gutter talk, locker room language, barracks talk, bawdy, naughty, saucy, raunchy, rude, crude, lewd, lascivious, indecent, profane, obscene, blue, off-color, risqué, suggestive, cursing, cussing, swearing. And all I could think of was shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tits.

Still, those seven words are motherfucking hilarious, too.

Pinot Noir Tasting Notes

2009-01-30T14:42:00.007-05:00

Since I've not had the time or inclination to feed this blog lately, I thought I'd at least cross-post some of my recent tasting notes from Grape and Grain (though with minor tweaking).

Last Thursday (1/22) featured a pinot noir tasting, which was an absolute delight. If you know me, you know how I feel about the Sideways-inspired pinot craze. But there are lots of damn good ones out there--several of which were poured this night. A few were even priced reasonably. (Will wonders never cease?)

Also, I'm experimenting with a 100 pt. rating system. I started doing it for myself as a way to help me better access my memories and experiences of the wines, and I thought I'd include those ratings here to see how they float. Just remember, though--one person's 85 may be another's 92. The trick is to find a taster you relate to and trust her or his opinion (but even then, never blindly).

Now, the notes:

1. Chandon Brut NV ($24.99/bottle)
This is a basic, serviceable Champagne-style sparkler. Better than anything you'll get at most New Years' parties, though not as good as what you might expect for $25. For the money, I'd go with a Cava (Spain) or a Prosecco (Italy). Still, not bad. Rating: 83

2. Labaume Mercurey 1er Cru 2002 ($39.99/bottle)
Smooth and light-bodied, this Burgundy shows pure but lean, tart black cherry fruit with earthy, forest-floor secondary notes. Would be a beautiful wine, but ultimately the fruit is just too thin. Rating: 85

3. Tohu Marlborough 2004 ($24.99/bottle)
This is two-thirds of a brilliant wine: enchanting nose, gorgeous flavors, and no finish. Cherry, cola, cedar sawdust, and earth infuse this refined, medium-bodied, aromatic pinot. For food pairing, think cedar plank roasted salmon or duck stuffed with wild cherries. Rating: 91

4. Styring Signature 2005 ($26.99/bottle)
The beautiful, seductive, Old-World-style nose on this pinot suggests crushed violets, graphite, and musky earth. On the full side of medium-bodied and very smooth, with a solid core of acidity to keep the ripe fruit and deep, rich earthiness on their feet. Finishes with cherry and black licorice. Rating: 92

5. Au Bon Climat Santa Maria Valley 2004 ($39.99/bottle)
This wine's nose is rich and dark, with enticing if subtle nuances of earth, grapefruit, and medicinal herbs. Super complex and almost mesmerizingly smooth, the palate is a riot of perfectly-poised oppositions: bitter but sweet, brooding but upbeat, darkly rich but light on its feet. Gives weight to the normally empty term, a "drinking experience." Rating: 94

6. Kosta Browne Sonoma Coast 2006 ($69.99/bottle)
Unbelievably smooth, this wine features fine, ripe tannins to go with the standard bolt of acidity. The result is an uncommonly-structured, age-worthy pinot (5-7 yrs.) with indulgent aromas and flavors of cherry, fresh strawberry, sweet vanilla, cinnamon, and something like tree bark. Less challenging to the senses than the Au Bon Climat, this pinot is nevertheless expertly executed and (almost) too easy to love. Rating: 94

Praise the Lord and Pass the Brisket

2008-12-30T10:34:00.006-05:00

Snapped a block from my mother's house on our way back to Ohio after Christmas in Springfield, Mo:

I only wish I had had my camera handy when we drove by the BBQ joint sign boasting "Loaded Taters" for $4.99.

Happy Holidays

2008-12-21T19:14:00.006-05:00

HiJACked

2008-12-16T11:04:00.003-05:00

JAC's domain name, jacweb.org, seems to have been stolen* by another website and put up for sale. I've never heard of this racket before. Anybody else know anything about it?

*I assume it was stolen, and that JAC didn't simply abdicate or sell the domain and choose to go entirely without a web presence.

My Sister--Fighting the Good Fight

2008-12-08T19:47:00.005-05:00

Like many of my colleagues in Rhetoric, Composition, and Writing Studies, I come originally from a small city (or if you prefer, a large town) full of red-blooded Americans and even redder politics. Springfield, Mo. is the seat of the national headquarters of the Assemblies of God and is John Ashcroft's home town. It also produced the late Payne Stewart, who at the height of his career, and just before his death, could always be seen wearing his "WWJD" bracelet during golf tournaments (and presumably everywhere else). There was a triple lynching on the town square in 1906, its schools weren't desegregated until they were forced to by Brown v. Board of Education, and in the 1980's protestors apparently burned the residence of an MSU (then SMSU) student starring in a "controversial" play about AIDS. And while Springfield has its share of progressives (it's also home to Missouri State University), the town's conservative fundamentalist roots are strong and powerful.

This is the backdrop against which my sister, Kim Massey, wrote the editorial below (link) about World AIDS Day. She's a witty, smart, fabulous writer, and I'm very proud of her.

"Don't Be Complacent About HIV," by Kim Massey.

What Was I Thinking?

2008-11-18T15:54:00.003-05:00

I know by posting this I'm basically smothering my previous post (which I just put up a half hour ago or so), but I can't help it. You know that phenomenon where you return to an old text and can't decipher your margin notes?

Page 21 of Reynolds' "Composition's Imagined Geographies:"

space-mind instead of space-time

Uh, ok.

No(u)n Rhetorics

2008-11-18T14:43:00.004-05:00

On the syllabus for my intro to comp studies class is a set of readings called "Bodies, Spaces, and Places." The readings include such varied essays as Nedra Reynolds' "Composition's Imagined Geographies," Debbie Hawhee's "Bodily Pedagogies," and Peter Mortensen's "Reading Material." The thread that ties them all together, of course is that, in different ways, they all approach rhetoric, composition, or literacy through material frameworks.

I made a conscious choice to lump embodied and spatial rhetorics together when I designed the course, and, given the course's necessarily wide-ranging content, I can live with it. But seeing my students work to forge connections, to synthesize them into something like a material rhetoric, makes me want to do a whole seminar. If I did, I might expand it to "bodies, spaces, tools, and schemata" (where "schemata" are a person's, or any complex system's, constantly-evolving internal representations of her/his/its environment that inform decision-making within that environment--they are the software to the body's or other physical system's hardware). I would then place all of the terms under a heading like "ecologies of writing." But the shorthand title might just as easily be "noun rhetorics:" rhetorics of people, places, things, and ideas.

Or, since in this framwork language is no longer the privileged term, maybe it ought to be "No(u)n Rhetorics?"

Two Things

2008-10-21T10:04:00.010-05:00

1. Lisa Ede is visiting BGSU right now, and man is she impressive. I mean, I've read her work, so I'm not at all surprised at how intelligent she is. But I'm amazed at how gracious, energetic (without being kinetic or anxious), and interested in others she is. She is one of those rare people who can instantly turn what always has the potential to be an awkard, fits-and-starts grad student/faculty lunch into a warm, engaging, and inclusive conversation about both academic and non-academic subjects. And we got to talk about Oregon wine at dinner last night. Bonus.

2. The Fall 2008 issue of Composition Studies just came out, and there's an irritating editorial change to my review of Helen Foster's Networked Process (or two, depending on whether the combining of two paragraphs, in which an important topic sentence that governs the entire summary section gets buried halfway through the new paragraph, was editorial or accidental). The opening sentence of the text as I wrote it makes a reference to "4C's," a construction whose blatant numericalness was perhaps too cavalier for the buttoned down MLA style. Fair enough; I can see why CCCC might be the preferable option. But the new, edited text reads: "You can't throw a rock at a CCCC convention these days . . . ."

You probably know people who like to complain about this usage, since the first C in CCCC already stands for "convention." And if you don't: Hi. Nice to meet you. Didn't I see you at the ATM ~~machine~~ earlier? I have wondered whether, were the usage to become common enough, we wouldn't just choose to absorb it into the acronym, making our annual conference CCCCC. After a few iterations the conference could become the 7C's, with a pirate theme to mark the inaugural meeting.

I really shouldn't complain, I know. A book review may only be a drop in the tenure bucket, but it's still a drop. And I'm grateful for it. Besides, this post just begs the publishing gods to smite me in my own editorial efforts. But I haven't been posting much lately, and this is what's on my mind.

So smite away.

New(s) Media Writing

2008-10-15T08:27:00.002-05:00

There are still a lot of people, both inside and outside the academy, for whom strictly alphabetic, written literacy is still the sine qua non of thoughtful, engaged, and--presumably--effective critique. But The Daily Show again (see previous post) employs a seemingly simple method, but one using multiple modes (written script, video, audio, design/composition), to launch a trenchant critique of contemporary political discourse:

Critique With Legs

2008-09-26T09:47:00.008-05:00

In "Education for Irrelevance," Kurt Spellmeyer maintains that print-based academic cultural critique tends to reach such a tiny audience that it has essentially no effect at all on the culture being critiqued:

Let's say it's still 1999, and you've just finished watching a movie, and your outrage is so great that you set to work on a critique--an 'intervention,' as we say, in popular culture. In your critique, coyly entitled 'Saving Ryan's Privates,' you demonstrate that Steven Spielberg's seemingly anodyne film is in fact deeply complicit with the same patriarchal ideology that undergirded the Third Reich. . . . By the time your intervention rolls off the presses, something like two hundred million people will have seen Spielberg's film at least once. Now consider the impact of your response. For the journal that prints your article, even a prestigious one like Cultural Critique or Social Text, the print run is about eight hundred copies, most of which lie moldering on library shelves until they get decently interred in microfiche. Assuming that most people don't read every article in every edition--and they don't, to say the least--then you can expect a readership of about a hundred or fewer. (80)

In short, Spellmeyer says that such solipsistic, self-indulgent and -satisfied academic writing "has no legs: no one will ever read it who is not actually compelled to" (82). Ignoring for the moment that the essay in which these claims appear exudes condescension and superiority, and ignoring also (if you can) the fact that almost every example of inconsequential academic work Spellmeyer offers involves feminism, Marxism, or a combination of the two (he ridicules "feminist recoveries of Hypatia" and "Marxo-feminist unmaskings of The Simpsons," and he discounts the importance of the "mere exposure of impressionable young minds to John Berger or Gloria Anzaldua" [81]), I would find these numbers compelling even if Spellmeyer had underestimated readership of academic journals by a factor of ten. And, for those of us who identify more with rhetoric than cultural studies, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to extend Spellmeyer's argument to rhetorical criticism.

So I am heartened by the fact that there are some very visible, and very good, rhetorical critics out there, even if they aren't academics:

Work Cited

Spellmeyer, Kurt. "Education for Irrelevance? Or, Joining Our Colleagues in Lit Crit on the Sidelines of the Information Age." Composition in the New Millenium: Rereading the Past, Rewriting the Future. Bloom, Daiker, and White, eds. Carbondale: SIUP, 2003.

Tasting Notes

2008-09-14T22:38:00.004-05:00

My latest notes, from the "around the world" tasting:

1. Chateau Haut-Bailly 2005 (France/Bordeaux; $130.99/bottle)
This is one of those wines you're excited to drink even though you know it's a crime to do it a mere three years after the vintage. Still, this very nice Bordeaux has a beautiful nose of currant, dried cranberry, leather, earth, and a touch of gravel. Despite being a young, tannic beast, it still gives hints of what it will be in 8-10 years: a dark, rich, earthy, silky beauty of a wine. Definitely one for the cellar.

2. Mateic EQ Syrah 2005 (Chile; $29.99/bottle)
This syrah immediately puts one in mind of the wines of the northern Rhone (though at a fraction of the cost of most good ones): medium-bodied, with meaty, peppery, and dusty berry and mineral flavors, it simply screams for a nice roasted leg of lamb, or even beef kebabs.

3. Scala Dei Cartoixa 2001 (Spain; $59.99/bottle)
This one is an all-around beautiful wine. It starts with aromas of blackberry, licorice, coffee, and a hint of fragrant toasted almond. Medium-full bodied, with a wonderfully satiny mouthfeel. Enticingly earthy and aromatic flavors of dark, spicy fruit are framed by a bolt of anise up front and a dash of new leather on the finish. Very good now (think steak), but should continue to harmonize for another 3-5 years.

4. Ascheri Sorano Barolo 2001 (Italy; $59.99/bottle)
The brownish tint gives this wine away as the consummate old-world red, with a very sensual nose of barnyard, crushed violet, and chocolate, and silky smooth, full bodied flavors of black plum, cedar, tobacco, and a hint of dusty cocoa. Nicely integrated tannins and surprisingly buoyant acidity will give this very nice wine another 2-4 years' cellaring potential, though if it were in my cellar right now, I'd pop it tomorrow with an equally indulgent plate of duck ragout with wild mushrooms.

5. Showket Napa Cabernet Sauvignon 2005 (California; $89.99/bottle)
This Cab's very ripe, fruity nose is underscored by subtle earthy notes. Full bodied, with nice grip and flavors of cassis, blackberry, dark chocolate, bramble, and mint. This is a very nice wine.

6. Schild Barossa Shiraz 2005 (Australia; $28.99/bottle)
This is not your run-of-the-mill Aussie Shiraz, with an intensely musky nose and flavors of super-ripe blueberry, black olive, smoke, and musk. While it might not be my first choice for a day-in, day-out quaffer, I have to give it credit for taking a chance and actually being a sensual, even sense-challenging, wine. Definitely one to pop with grilled red meats.

7. Adelsheim Pinot Noir Deglace 2006 (Oregon; $34.99/bottle)
Dessert wines seem to be en vogue right now, so we shouldn't be surprised to see American producers trying them with grapes not normally associated with sweet wines (for another fun example, look for Meeker's Fro-Zin, a Zinfandel-based dessert wine). Such efforts tend to be hit or miss, but this one--while not earth-shattering--is quite nice, with aromas and flavors of baked cherries and enough acidity to keep the whole affair from being too heavy.

what he said

2008-09-09T15:34:00.003-05:00

Adam McKay tells it like it is. Why aren't more people hearing this message? Oh, yeah.

Tasting Notes: Semantics Edition

2008-09-03T13:53:00.008-05:00

This is cross-posted from Grape and Grain, which explains two things about it:

1. It explains why I talk about the wine tasting as if you had been there yourself (most of Grape and Grain's readers were there, I suspect).

2. It explains why I assume that my reader hasn't spent a considerable amount of time reflecting on the shifting semantic terrain of words like "literally" and "decadent," as well as why I talk about rhetoric as if to laypeople instead of others who are in the biz. (For more on "literally," see Debbie's post on the abuse of words.)

Still, it seems like a good piece to post here, too, for anybody who may have access to these stellar wines.

Tonight’s tasting theme was “decadence defined.” Now, it just so happens that "decadence" is one of those words I’ve been keeping my eye on. In the last 30 or so years (in other words, since I’ve been old enough to pay attention), there have been a few words whose meanings have changed right before our eyes. Take “literally,” for example. I have always been taught that it meant "actually." But, to a number of people—and it sure seems like that number has been steadily increasing, though I’ll concede that, as I’ve become a more astute observer of language, I may simply notice it more—“literally” is essentially a word that marks an extreme or intense state. So, for example, the statement, “I was so mad I literally hit the roof,” could be taken to mean that you really went on top of your house, made a fist (or perhaps you’re a martial arts, open-hand type), and smacked your shingles. But for most people it just means “I was extremely mad.”

And so it is with “decadence.” At some point during the Reagan ‘80’s (probably about the same point it seemed like a good idea to make the film Wall Street), the meaning of “decadence” shifted from “being in a state of decay, either caused by or symptomized by (or both) conspicuous and extreme excess” (think Roman vomiting troughs and orgiastic parties) to “extremely desirable—due to conspicuous and extreme excess.”

Obviously, it’s this second term that applies to tonight’s tasting. But I can’t help wondering what it says about our culture that conspicuous, extreme excess continues to be considered, almost thirty years after the Reagan era began, a sign of fine living rather than an indication that the whole idea of the rags-to-riches American Dream has jumped the shark.

As for this tasting, what saves it for me in the end is that, despite its title, the wines in the lineup really aren’t decadent so much as they are rich and full-bodied (Ok, the prices may be decadent, but that’s why we have small samples of these wines and then go buy a tasty $9.99 bottle of Chilean Cab Sauv.) The Standish Shiraz comes closest—Wine Advocate calls it “opulent”—though even it cannot touch the outrageously syrupy, oozing nectar that is Mollydooker’s “Carnival of Love.” Talk about decadent. (As I said when I reviewed it, you should try it if you have a chance, but it’s almost too much to take.) In fact, the next closest wine in the lineup to being decadent—the “Clio” from El Nido—is definitely ripe and rich, but it is also so superbly balanced and precisely focused that it does not seem excessive at all when you drink it.

I don’t mean to quibble with Bill about terms: a) it’s his store, and he runs the show, and b) I’m sure the actual name for the theme of the tasting is of exceedingly minor importance compared to the formidable task of assembling such a marvelous lineup of rich, full-bodied wines. Indeed, this post may seem like a lot of energy to devote to something as ho-hum as word choice for a wine tasting theme, and you might even be thinking by now (if you haven’t stopped reading altogether), “Who cares?” I do, for one. Before I was a half-cocked amateur wine critic I was, and am, a professor of rhetoric. It’s in my nature to pay attention to the sometimes extraordinary meanings that inhere in mundane language, as well as to share what I find with others. And, if you have made it this far into this post, then I have done what I set out to do: there’s no way, after today, that you’ll ever hear the word “decadent” again without giving it at least a second thought.

Now, the notes:

1. Merryvale Profile 2002 ($99.99/bottle)
This wine has a great nose, with cassis, baked cherry, leathery spice, and just the right amount of toasty oak. The full-bodied palate reveals young, dark flavors of black cherry, bitter leather, chocolate, and spice with big, scratchy tannins dominating the profile (no pun intended). This is a wine to come back to in 3-5 years to see if it has come into balance, because if it does, it's going to be a knockout.

2. Lagier Meredith Syrah 2005 ($54.99/bottle)
The nose on this mountain-grown Syrah is big and fruity, with ripe plums and berries supporting secondary notes of spice and creamy vanilla. Full-bodied, with wonderfully bright acidity, it offers flavors of dark berries and black pepper with an enticing eucalyptus note on the finish. The tannins are nicely integrated. Try this syrah with grilled meat.

3. Conn Valley Right Bank 2005 ($54.99/bottle)
"Right Bank" refers to the right bank of the Gironde river in Bordeaux, where blends tend to be based on Merlot instead of Cabernet Sauvignon. And this wine is surprisingly Bordeaux-like, with earth and leather coming through on the nose and flavors of tart but ripe plum, tobacco, soil, and a hint of black licorice. Full-bodied with soft tannins, this is a beautiful wine that would pair perfectly with lamb or prime rib.

4. El Nido Clio 2005 ($59.99/bottle)
The nose on this very rich Monastrell blend from Jumilla, Spain makes you think it's going to be way over-the-top, even (dare I say?) decadent, with aromas of super-ripe crushed blueberries, vanilla, cream, and toasty spice. Nevertheless, the voluptuous but well-structured palate displays breathtaking balance, even finesse, with an almost refreshingly minty finish that makes you want another sip. You could drink this masterpiece of a wine with food, but why would you want to?

5. The Standish Shiraz 2003 ($79.99/bottle)
This Aussie Shiraz is big, thick and almost over-ripe. The nose offers pronounced aromas of caramelized sugar, smoke, and soft black olives, while the palate shows dark flavors of ripe blackberry, black olive, and a blast of black pepper. This wine is definitely indulgent, and it does a nice job as such, but it would be hard to justify buying a bottle when I know it's in the same price range as D'Arenberg's nearly perfect Dead Arm Shiraz and a number of other stunningly rich and balanced Aussie Shirazes.

6. Caldwell Red Wine 2004 ($104.99/bottle)
This nice, dark, full-bodied red shows flavors and aromas of very ripe, smoky plum, oak, and black olive, with some licorice on the finish.

7. Presidential NV 20-Year Port ($46.99/bottle)
Once you get past the formiddable alcohol (20%), there is a beautifully aromatic and tasty blend of caramel, vanilla, and orange/gran marnier waiting. A definite choice for those NW Ohio winters.

Conceit

2008-08-25T14:27:00.012-05:00

Hello, semester.

We have been in the ring many times now, and I admit that you have won a few rounds over the years. And while I have won many myself, you keep coming back, strong as before. You have the tenacity of a badger and the craftiness of a fox. But I am getting both older and wiser. I know your moves, and I know how to handle them.

I will neutralize your offense by cleaning my inbox twice a week and not waiting until Monday to submit Tuesday's photocopy requests. I will chip away at you with jabs and quick body shots, writing for an hour here and a half-hour there as time permits (though you should look for a few haymakers, too). Between rounds I will get plenty of sleep instead of staying up late watching Iron Chef or Mythbusters. And I am going to stick so faithfully to my gameplan of working out regularly that people might mistake me for a Drago-like superhuman instead of a mere man.

I must break you.

I'm No Miles

2008-08-23T20:47:00.015-05:00

It's the most famous line about wine in recent film history, and maybe in all of film history:

"If anyone orders Merlot, I'm leaving. I am not drinking any fucking Merlot!"

The film, of course, is Sideways, and with these words Miles--the self-loathing writer, Pinot Noir lover, and arbiter of taste for would-be wine snobs across the nation--sounded the death-knell of the Merlot glut of the 90's and issued in the Age of Pinot. (Though in acutality Merlot sales went up after the film's release--go figure.) Nowadays, one can hardly go to a party or a tasting without someone proclaiming, "I'm not a big fan of Merlot. I like Pinots." True, maybe some of them came by their opinions honestly. But I hear that same sentiment uttered often enough to make me think there are lots of wine drinkers out there who just do what the latest screenwriter or best-selling author tells them to do. (By the way, one reason Merlot is so good for any occasion is that it tends to have lush but not cloying fruit and a soft, supple texture, making it easy to drink with or without food.)

So why should we care? Normally, I wouldn't, but the law of supply and demand says that the more people who want to drink Pinot Noir, the more money wineries, distributors, and merchants can charge for it. That's why you can hardly find a decent--not great, mind you, but decent--bottle of the stuff for under $20. (Well, that and the fact that the Pinot Noir grape is notoriously--and, I should add, literally--thin-skinned and, so, temperamental.) Fortunately for me, I happen to like Merlot (bane of party goers everywhere, it would seem). I also like Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Zinfandel, Petite Sirah, Syrah, Grenache, Mourvedre, Tempranillo, Sangiovese, Nebbiolo, Malbec, Carmenère, and Pinotage, to name a few of my favorite reds. In fact, the one thing I do come close to wine snobbery about has nothing to do with the price of the bottle, the prestige of the winery, or even the quality of the wine (the evaluation of which is very subjective). Instead, I'm snobbish in my conviction that, if you want to call yourself a wine lover, you should at least try to appreciate a range of colors, bodies, styles, and flavors. Besides, when you don't have a mint to spend on wine, broad-ranging taste is an assett.

Still, I do like a good Pinot. But what I consider to be a "good Pinot" doesn't mesh perfectly with popular or critical tastes. I prefer the softer, rounder, more full-bodied style (the Sanford below is a good example) to the more elegant, crisp-almost-to-the-point-of-effervescence style. (The Beaux Freres below isn't this way in the extreme, but it does flirt with it.) Don't get me wrong--a good Pinot Noir has to have a solid backbone of acidity, and the best ones will be infused with seductive, earthy notes. It's just that the austere snap that makes Pinot so exciting for many wine lovers can, for me, be taken too far.

In sum, I will gladly drink fucking Merlot, along with all the other varietals I mention above (not to mention the gamut of white wines, all of which can be delicious--in fact, I just had an oily, petrolium-laden Alsatian Gewürztraminer that was super fun, though not something I drink often). And, of course, that includes Pinot Noir. To come at wine from any other direction is, to my mind, to come at it sideways.

Now, the notes:

1. Leroy Bourgone 1999 ($44.99/bottle)
This basic Burgundy has a nice, balanced nose of baked plums, dried leaves, damp earth, and spice and has a light-medium body on the palate. A very earthy core is infused with black cherry, licorice, and spice notes, with fine tannins and a long, peppery finish.

2. Sanford Santa Rita Hills Sanford & Benedict Vineyard 2002 ($49.99/bottle)
The nose is ripe, rich, and plummy, with some woody and sweet tar notes. Medium bodied, with a smooth, silky mouthfeel, this Pinot boasts flavors of dark plum and berry, toast, and new leather, all strung on a taught but not overwhelming rope of acidity. The long finish is pure black tea. Spectator gave this one 87; I'd bump it up 5 points. Excellent.

3. Taz Fiddlestix Vineyard 2005 ($36.99/bottle)
This silky, medium bodied Pinot offers aromas of cherry and raspberry cola and a lightly floral perfumed note. Snappy acidity gives lift to flavors of cola, tea, and smoke. The finish is dark and herbal. Nice.

4. Etude Pinot Noir 2004 ($42.99/bottle)
The nose is pure Old World, dominated by wild mushrooms, minerality, and barnyard notes. Medium bodied, with black cherry and plum fruit, mountains of black soil, and cigarette tobacco on the palate. This is a beautifully sensuous, seductive wine.

5. Hartley-Ostini Hitching Post Highlighner 2005 ($44.99/bottle)
Smooth and medium bodied with sprightly acidity, this Pinot offers aromas of straight cola, peppery spice, and flowers, and flavors of sweet dark berries, tar, cola, and a hint of earth. This is a nice, solid wine.

6. Beaux Freres Ribbon Ridge Vineyard 2006 ($79.99/bottle)
Black cherry, toasted wood, and rich perfumed spice aromas give way to a medium bodied palate. Flavors of sweet cherry, red and black licorice, and spice seem to jump around on your tongue, so kinetic is the acidity. As my introductory comments imply, this is not my ideal style of Pinot. But becuase it has some richness for balance, it is a very good example of that style. If you like your Pinots lively, you will love this one.

Confessions of a car-crazy

2008-08-13T19:11:00.006-05:00

Bill listed ten pop culture phenomena he just never got into, and as I toyed with developing my own list, my mind roamed instead to things I do get into. I won't lay a list on you (though I enjoyed Bill's, and, for the record, I'm a big Pink Floyd fan), but I have to share what may be my all-time favorite piece of dialogue in a film. In The Right Stuff, John Glenn (Ed Harris) describes himself using a line that originally appeared in the book, and which Thomas Wolfe used to describe Glenn (instead of Glenn referring to himself). Lying in bed, Mike and Carol Brady-style, Glenn and his wife are talking about the space program, and Glenn observes that his fellow astronauts think he is a "Dudley Do-Right." When his wife laughingly agrees, he says, "Well, that's me, I guess--a lonely beacon of restraint and self sacrifice in a squall of car crazies."

It may be forced. It may be hard to believe that Glenn would have said such a thing. (He didn't, apparently.) But in the context of the film, it has a calm, resolute simplicity that is a perfect contrast to the carnival atmosphere that pervades much of the rest of the movie.

I didn't see The Right Stuff in the theater until Roger Ebert picked it in 2003 for his annual "Overlooked Films" festival in Champaign-Urbana, but I saw it pretty close to its release on cable. And I've never forgotten that line.

Tasting Notes: Wopner Edition

2008-07-23T11:00:00.002-05:00

In the interest of having new content more regularly on this blog, I've decided to post--if not always, then often--my notes from Stimmel's (local deli/grocery/beer/wine store) Thursday night tastings here as well as at Stimmel's blog, Grape and Grain. They usually pour seven wines--one or two whites, the rest reds, with the occasional sparkler, rosé, or dessert wine thrown in--chosen according to varietal or region ("Syrah around the world" or "Rhone wines," for example). But sometimes they offer a theme-based selection. Last Thursday's theme was "Stimmel's Court," and, res ipsa loquitur, the wines speak for themselves:

1. "The Consultant" Chardonnay 2005 (California; <$20, I think)
Perhaps enrolled in the vitis protection program, this medium-bodied Chardonnay does not show up on the tasting sheet and seems intentionally secretive of its origins. (Even a Google search only turns up the name of the Chardonnay and an "importer"--of this California wine--called Billington Wines.) What I do know is that it has aromas and flavors of apples, butter, smoke, and minerals, with a streak of bitter anise running through the finish. Not bad at all.

2. Shinas Estate "The Innocent" Viognier 2007 (Australia; $24.99/bottle)
If you're not used to drinking Viognier, you might call this wine "stinky." I prefer to call it aromatic, with notes of cantaloupe, peaches, and musk on the nose. Medium-full-bodied, this oh-so-lightly sweet white shines with flavors of sweet peach and pear and a white pepper-laced finish. Lively acidity keeps the wine seeming fresh despite its viscosity. Really nice.

3. Shinas Estate "The Guilty" Shiraz 2005 (Australia; $24.99/bottle)
Another nice wine from Shinas, this is pretty textbook Aussie Shiraz, with blueberry, pepper, spice, and tar aromas and flavors. The only departure is a hint of bramble as well, giving it a slightly wild, adventurous edge.

4. Shinas Estate "The Verdict" Cabernet Sauvignon 2005 (Australia; $24.99/bottle)
This full-bodied red has a lovely nose of black currants, earth, violets, and just a tiny hint of barnyard. On the palate, sweetly ripe black currant starts the show, only to give way to a disappointing greenish/woody note. After a couple sips, however, this off green wood taste morphed into a more pleasant hoisin-like quality (for me, anyway; who knows what it may do for you). An interesting wine, though the other Shinas Estate offerings in this lineup outshine it by a considerable margin.

5. Orin Swift "The Prisoner" 2005 (California/Napa Valley; $36.99/bottle)
This Zinfandel-based blend is a perennial favorite at Stimmel's tastings, and with good reason. A tantalizing nose of blackberry, black plum, bramble, and pepper gives way to a gripping, full-bodied palate, offering flavors of sweet blackberry liquer, peppery spice, mocha, and red and black licorice. "The Prisoner" is big and rich but exquisitely balanced. I love this wine.

6. Ahnfeldt "Quid Pro Quo" Blend 2003 (California/Napa Valley; $69.99/bottle)
This full-bodied, Merlot-based, Bordeaux-style blend has a nice nose of plums, flowers, earth, and leathery spice. On the palate, it shows very nice flavors of black currant, spice, licorice, and a hint of mushroom-y earth. Gripping but fine tannins and good fruit mean this wine will age gracefully for at least another five years.

7. Chateau Les Justices Sauternes 2003 (France; $52.99/bottle)
This may not be the steel trap of a Sauternes that the 2001 Chateau D'Yquem is, but it has its charms nonetheless. Aromas and flavors of pineapple, lemon curd, and smoky jasmine vibrate on a taught string of acidity, with an intriguing menthol note emerging on the long finish.

Franc the Tanc

2008-07-16T19:05:00.004-05:00

(Cross-posted at Grape and Grain)

In the movie Old School, Frank "The Tank" Ricard is in the inner sanctum of cool, being one of the three people responsible for founding the fraternity of misfits whose antics drive the film's plot (and most of the gags). Nevertheless, Frank--who's lots of fun but lacks solidity of character (to say the least; that's like saying NW Ohio lacks mountains)--continually takes a back seat to the other two members of the inner sanctum: the staid, reliable Mitch and the boldly charismatic entrepreneur Beanie. But, by the end of the movie, Frank has been given a few chances to shine on his own. Sure, he may not always come through, shooting himself in the neck with a tranquilizer gun or setting himself on fire while dressed in a cougar suit. But every once in a while, he rises to the occasion, stunning critics with a heartfelt rhythmic ballet routine or mystically channeling his inner wonk to school James Carville in the finer points of U.S. biotech policy.

So it is with Cabernet Franc. Like Frank, Franc is also in an inner sanctum, being one of the three indispensable red grapes of Bordeaux. (We'll leave number four, Petit Verdot, for another post.) And, like Frank, Franc always takes a back seat to its two friends, the staid, reliable Merlot and the boldly charismatic Cabernet Sauvignon. After all, when's the last time you had a glass of Cab Franc? Compare that to the last Cab Sauv or Merlot you've had, and you'll likely get the point. And there's no doubt that Cab Franc, on its own, sometimes lacks solidity of character, perhaps showing flashes--or should I say streaks--of brilliance but not able to sustain a full, developed flavor arc, which is what makes it such a good blending wine. (That may also be what makes the grape insecure and prone to saying things like, "Took the restrictor plate off to give the Red Dragon a little more juice. But it's not exactly street legal, so keep it on the down low"). But every once in awhile, it truly sings on its own, with supple fruit, deep, seductive earth and leather notes, and an intriguing floral quality that places it among the most irresistable wines you're likely to come across. And when that happens, there's only one term to describe drinking such a wine. Yep, you guessed it: old school.

I'm Back

2008-06-30T14:01:00.007-05:00

I bet you thought my hiatus would turn into a permanent shutdown of the blog, right? I admit I'm coming back later than I said, but summer is always like that: you always think there's going to be more time than there is. Anyway, there's a brief lull in chapter submissions for the edited collection, so I thought now would be a good time to dive back in.

Actually, I've been blogging quite a bit, but it's all been over at Grape and Grain. In exchange for posting my notes from the Thursday night tastings at Stimmel's (the wine/beer/bakery/grocery store by my house), I get to taste some of the most amazing wines in the world--wines like Chateau Haut Brion, Ridge Monte Bello, Robert Mondavi Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon, D'Arenberg Dead Arm Shiraz, and Jaboulet Hermitage La Chapelle, to name a few. The only problem with the setup, in fact, is that tasting wines like these on a regular basis makes it harder to get excited about those good-but-simple $12.99 Aussie fruit bombs that I can actually afford to--and often do--buy. But I'm not complaining.

But I digress. Not only is this blog not defunct, it is actually very, very funct. I'll try to post weekly, or at least a couple times a month. I'm not sure yet whether I'll cross-post my tasting notes. (If I were to, this blog would, by virtue of their frequency, become primarily a wine blog, but maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing.)

For now, though, here's something comp-related I've been thinking about. In my Intro to Composition Studies seminar for new comp/rhet PhD students, I have in the past earmarked a week's worth of readings for looking at the "New Abolitionist" debate. The debate proper hasn't seen much action since the early 2000s, and its high-water mark came in the mid-to-late 1990's (one might point to the 1998 publication of Crowley's Composition in the University as signifying that moment). But one of the most powerful reasons for wanting to abolish the universal fyc requirement--the notion that "general writing skill" is a myth, that writing is so embedded in particular systems of activity that it cannot be usefully abstracted--is still very much in play. (Not to mention the idea that "literacy" itself is not a very useful concept, which, if you find it convincing, has grave implications for the teaching of writing.) So much so, in fact, that I feel certain that the lack of overt debate in our most visible forums about the desirability of the universal fyc requirement only signals the debate's dormancy, not its extinction.

Still, I want to introduce my students to today's discipline (not that that doesn't, obviously, involve some history), and we do have a close look at socio-historic theories of writing that posit it as concrete and particular rather than abstract and generalizable. I wonder whether we might not spend our time better by looking more deeply at, say, embodied rhetorics, or network studies' growing impact on writing studies research (both of which get playing time, but not enough for them to really break a sweat).

Any thoughts?

Nice to be back.

Hiatus

2008-01-22T13:15:00.001-05:00

Right now, part of my teaching load includes a brand new, theory-heavy seminar in modern and contemporary rhetorics (exciting but demanding week in and week out). I'm also editing a collection whose drafts will be coming in over the next 8-14 weeks, revising an article for that collection, writing another article, preparing a conference presentation, putting together my third-year review file, and beginning a long-overdue workout regimen. Among other things.

In short, the next 2-3 months are looking so swamped that I think it best to take a short break from the blog (or, more accurately, to continue the de facto break that started in December). I'll be back after the semester has ended.

See you in the spring.

Tasting Notes

2007-12-03T10:18:00.000-05:00

As of this week, I'll be officially posting wine tasting notes on Grape and Grain, the wine and beer blog for Stimmel's market. While I wait to be added as a site administrator for the blog, I thought I might as well cross-post my notes here. The theme of the tasting was "Around the World."

1. Faively Bourgogne 2005. (France/Burgundy; 100% Chardonnay) $21.99/bottle
The first thing I noticed about this very interesting (and good) white Burgundy was that it smells like movie popcorn, with a combination of toast and butter aromas. On the palate the wine is buttery, with sour apple fruit and just a hint of smoke and minerality. Good acidity for pairing with food.

2. Chateau Gigognan Clos du Roi Chateauneuf-du-Pape 2003 (France/Rhone). $49.99/bottle
This red is very different for a CdP, but if you give it a chance I think you'll like it. Rich and full-bodied, with flavors of black olive and brine followed by pronounced black licorice on the long finish.

3. Justin Orphan 2005 (California/Paso Robles; blend of cabernet sauvignon, merlot, petite verdot, and petite syrah) $24.99/bottle
Simple but good, with bright, ripe cherry fruit and lots of vanilla. A bit on the oaky side for my taste, but lots of people will love this easy-to-drink red.

4. Planeta Syrah 2004 (Italy/Sicily) 39.99/bottle
Very nice wine. Loads of black currant and dark berry fruit with well-integrated herb, black pepper, and salt/blood flavors. With efforts like this, it's no surprise that Sicily has recently begun to get international attention for its wines.

5. Numanthia Termes 2005 (Spain/Toro; Tinta de Toro) $39.99/bottle
Wow. Robert Parker gave this wine 94 pts., and I think he's right [edited: it was the 2004 vintage that RP awarded 94 pts]. Deep, rich, lush, and powerfully tannic, this very young red is already elegant and smooth--hedonism in a bottle. Still, I'd wait five, even ten+ years to drink it. If you would ever consider spending $40 on a wine, make it this one (which easily drinks like a $100+ wine).

6. Tait Ballbuster 2006 (Australia; 80% shiraz, 10% cabernet sauvignon, 10% merlot) $17.99/bottle
Very ripe, concentrated dark berry fruit, layered with earth, minerality, and a touch of oak. More complex, and more enjoyable, than the average Aussie "fruit bomb."

7. Churchill Vintage Porto 1997 (Portugal) 76.99/bottle
I don't usually fall in line with "expert" opinions, but the Wine Spectator's description of blackberry and lead pencil are right on. Richly-textured, dense, and lightly sweet, with still-discernable tannins.

Go USA

2007-11-26T09:21:00.000-05:00

I know this photo made the rounds several years ago (in 2003, I suspect), turning up on blogs and webpages and in inboxes across the world. But I've never seen it accompanied by such trenchant sociopolitical analysis.

The marketplace of ideas has never been so bountiful.

Thanksgiving Wine Cider

2007-11-20T13:26:00.000-05:00

Every year around this time many Americans perform the ritual, paroxysmal flailing that has come to be associated with the search for the ideal Thanksgiving wine. And here's a list of wines I've seen or heard recommended (mostly by experts) in response just this year:

Beaujolais nouveau
Beaujolais villages
Pinot Noir
Côtes du Rhône
Barbera
Rioja
Zinfandel
Rosé (sangiovese-based)
Merlot
Syrah/Shiraz
Cabernet sauvignon
Sauvignon blanc
Riesling (dry)
Riesling (sweet)
Champagne/sparkling white
Chenin blanc
Chardonnay
Viognier

Either Thanksgiving dinner is the most wine-flexible meal of all time, or there simply is no perfect pairing (other than the one that tastes good to you). I think it's the latter. Which is why I'll be serving this on Thursday:

Activity Theory Bibliography

2007-11-09T11:38:00.000-05:00

As promised, here's the activity theory bibliography (.xml file) Jeremy Schnieder and I put together. It's a work-in-progress, so if you have any suggestions of sources to add, we'd appreciate hearing from you.

A few caveats:

Jeremy and I did not set out to create a document for public consumption; rather, we are simply compiling a list of sources for a project we're working on. As a result, we didn't worry at this stage about things like consistent or proper formatting, and there are a few entries that have incomplete data or that are "meta" entries meant to hold the place of more specific sources.

So, while you're welcome to use this bibliography however you see fit (within the guidelines of the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 United States License), please note that it's not a presentation quality document.
Some of the sources are pretty far afield to be called "writing studies," even broadly defined, but we're leaving them on for now.

We'll update the document as the project progresses. I'm especially looking foward to having it annotated, which (we hope) will happen sometime early in the new year.

Fifth Sign of the Apocalypse (From the "You Can't Make This Stuff Up" Dept.)

2007-11-02T11:02:00.000-05:00

Once again completely blurring the line between truth and fiction, the U.S. military gives us the best reason so far for why Arrested Development should still be on the air.

I can just imagine Carl Weathers telling the Iraqi "actors:" "Take this discarded MRE packet and boil it with some water, and you got yourself a stew."

Coming Soon: Activity (Theory)

2007-10-15T13:00:00.000-05:00

One of my students and I are compiling a bibliography of activity theory-based and -oriented work in writing studies. Given the nature of our project, we may also include a few non-writing-studies sources as well. It should take a presentable form by the weekend, though it will certainly not be exhaustive by then. Nor will it be annotated (we're shooting for annotations by Jan. 08).

Once we feel it's in good working shape (emphasis on working), and provided my co-researcher agrees, I'll make the list publicly available--for both use as a resource and scrutiny/suggestions.

Until then, more inactivity from this blog.

Yes

2007-09-23T19:59:00.000-05:00

The Yes Men are coming to BG in a couple of weeks.

They're a satire/performance art team who impersonate everybody from WTO spokespeople to Exxon executives, travelling to oil conferences and business schools giving fake talks in which they propose the most vile, outlandish, utterly unbelievable products and initiatives. They describe themselves as "impersonating big-time criminals in order to publicly humiliate them. Targets are leaders and big corporations who put profits ahead of everything else." And this from Wikipedia: "The Yes Men are a group of culture jamming activists who practice what they call 'identity correction' by pretending to be powerful people and spokespersons for prominent organizations. They create and maintain fake websites similar to ones they want to spoof, and then they accept invitations received on their websites to appear at conferences, symposia, and TV shows."

And, more often than not, their performances are swallowed hook, line, and sinker. Here's an excerprt from their account (told in a straight, unblinking journalistic style) of a November, 2006 talk:

Philadelphia - At a Wharton Business School conference on business in Africa, World Trade Organization representative Hanniford Schmidt announced the creation of a WTO initiative for "full private stewardry of labor" for the parts of Africa that have been hardest hit by the 500 years of Africa's free trade with the West.

The initiative will require Western companies doing business in some parts of Africa to own their workers outright. Schmidt recounted how private stewardship has been successfully applied to transport, power, water, traditional knowledge, and even the human genome. The WTO's "full private stewardry" program will extend these successes to (re)privatize humans themselves.

"Full, untrammelled stewardry is the best available solution to African poverty, and the inevitable result of free-market theory," Schmidt told more than 150 attendees. Schmidt acknowledged that the stewardry program was similar in many ways to slavery, but explained that just as "compassionate conservatism" has polished the rough edges on labor relations in industrialized countries, full stewardry, or "compassionate slavery," could be a similar boon to developing ones.

The audience included Prof. Charles Soludo (Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria), Dr. Laurie Ann Agama (Director for African Affairs at the Office of the US Trade Representative), and other notables. Agama prefaced her remarks by thanking Scmidt for his macroscopic perspective, saying that the USTR view adds details to the WTO's general approach. Nigerian Central Bank Governor Soludo also acknowledged the WTO proposal, though he did not seem to appreciate it as much as did Agama.

In addition to doing performances, they have also made a movie (with another one apparently on the way) and written a book. I intend to check both of them out. There's also a Bill Moyers interview with them available on the web (one word: Vivoleum!)

This is pretty radical, amazing stuff. I'm looking forward to their visit.

Tasting Notes

2007-09-21T12:56:00.000-05:00

I tasted several nice wines last night, including a very interesting Malbec that smelled like meatloaf and tasted like green peppers, herbs, and burned leaves, but this sangiovese from Napa Valley stood out. If you had told me beforehand, in fact, that it was a Chianti Classico Riserva, I'd have believed you without hesitation:

Winery: Gargiulo Vineyards (Napa Valley)
Wine: 2004 Aprile Super Oakville Blend
Grape/Blend: sangiovese (96%), cabernet sauvignon (4%)
Price: $40 (suggested retail)
Aroma: cherry and oak
Body: medium to medium/full
Taste: chocolate-covered cherries, candied spice, oak
Overall: complex, with a pronounced flavor arc and a sustained finish
Assessment: Very good

BG Idol Auditions

2007-09-16T21:57:00.000-05:00

Because Lee and I share childcare responsibilities and use daycare and babysitters minimally (daycare two days a week, sitters on an ad hoc basis), we often break up the work day so that she gets to do academic stuff while the sun is out, and I get to do academic stuff when it's dark. (Yes, it's about that precise.) Consequently, I am frequently in my office when the maintenance staff of East Hall are hard at work, which means I am regularly treated to enthusiastic performances of whatever happens to be coursing through the earphones of the woman who usually works on the fourth floor.

What I couldn't have predicted is how difficult it is, even with my door closed, to concentrate on composing a simple email while listening to an uncaccompanied, atonal rendition of "Like a Virgin." Or, at least, I couldn't have predicted that I would have to try.

Still, though, this only seems new to me because, at Elon (where tuition is high and labor is cheap), they made the maintenance staff come in at, like, 5:00 a.m. Better for me, but I suspect much worse for the staff.

[Update: I'm going home now, to the (approximate) tune of "Don't Go Breakin' My Heart."]

Tis the CCCC-son

2007-09-12T08:16:00.000-05:00

It seems like forever since I've landed a favorable time slot for my C's presentation. Last year I presented Saturday afternoon, and it was ten minutes past the starting time for our panel before our first audience member showed up. In fact, only two of the three panelists even showed. (Ok, three actual presenters showed, but Lee and I were presenting together, so in terms of our time alotted, we counted as one person). Of course, there are advantages to that, too: there was no pressure, and we ended up having a very pleasant, personal conversation with our fellow presenter and those people who did drop by the session. Still, it's nice to have an audience.

This year, though, I'll be right in the thick of things. I've been placed in the H 14 session, which takes place Friday from 11:00 to 12:15. That's no guarantee that the room will be packed, but it certainly makes it easier for anybody who might be interested in the panel to attend.

And that's another thing: I'm actually on a panel that promises to be coherent. Submitting an individual proposal, as I have done a few times, means you risk being lumped together with presenters whose topics and arguments just don't work well with yours. We all recognize those panels on the program, and I suspect we generally avoid them. I do, at least, unless I have a friend presenting or there's that one presentation that I just can't miss. But this year things seem different. Since I don't know yet who the other presenters are or what they'll be talking about, all I have to go on are my proposal and the title of the panel, but they are, for once, perfectly aligned. I suppose one or both of the other panelists may feel differently right about now. But with "the politics of the personal" right there in the name of the panel, it seems unlikely that the other presentations will be too far from mine. (I already replied to my invitation and can unfortunately no longer retrieve the exact title of the panel; it's something like "Anger, Defensiveness, and the Politics of the Personal: Problems with Composition Theory.")

All that to say that I'm more excited about this year's C's than I've been in a long time. Oh, yeah--it also doesn't hurt that, a) I feel I have something really important to say, b) I've already written the paper on which I'll base the presentation, and c) it will be Lee's and my first trip to New Orleans since we adopted a one-day-old Olivia (she was born just across the river in Gretna--more on this later, perhaps).

So, congratulations to everybody who will be on the program, and laissez les bons temps rouler!

Baby Talk

2007-08-29T15:18:00.000-05:00

I want to write a book offering parents of young children advice in the art of circumlocution. And believe me, it is an art. Do you know how many ways there are to say "I think Olivia and I will go play on the swing at the park tomorrow," without actually using those words? Of particular importance to avoid are the words park, swing, swingset, toy, back-and-forth (because we associate that with certain toys), and even go. ("Go? Go? Go? Go?" Olivia--er, I mean, the typical child--may petition for a half hour while attempting to put on her shoes.)

For starters, there's:

1. I think Olivia and I will make use of the pendular child's apparatus at the recreational greenspace tomorrow.

2. I think Olivia and I will revisit the chain-suspended motion-chair at the municipal commons tomorrow. (This is the Beowulf version.)

3. I think Olivia and I will exploit the hanging, swaying seat ~~that~~ at the community leisure grounds tomorrow.

Now isn't that more creative than you-know-whatting on the thingie at the you-know-where?

And here's a gratuitous shot of Olivia on the pendular child's apparatus:

Rhetoric Defined

2007-08-28T20:03:00.000-05:00

The other day in my Intro to Composition Studies course for first-year Ph.D. students, I asked the class to work in pairs and develop definitions of rhetoric. I didn't think to get permission to share any of theirs (I haven't been thinking like a blogger lately), but I'll share mine. I realize now that this is the definition I've been working with for some time, but I've only now concretized it. And, of course, as I continue to read, write, talk, and listen, I'm sure it will evolve:

Rhetoric is the process or agglomeration of processes whereby language acts--whether through purposive deployment by a person or people, independently of human intention, or some combination--to give shape to human environments and understanding and meaning to human endeavors, as well as the study of such processes.

Pithy it's not. (I.A. Richards gets the nod in that category.) But it works well for what I want to say and do.

Have you got your own definition? If so, leave it in a comment. Or, better yet, blog it.

Priorities

2007-08-16T13:03:00.000-05:00

1. Obviously, the blog hasn't been one lately. But I've been getting in some great family and travel time as well as quite a bit of productive research-related reading and course planning.

2. Even though I still have a fair amount of tweaking to do to my Intro to Composition Studies syllabus (for new Ph.D. students), I spent an hour and a half today making sure the course banner was just right.

3. I could stay at the office and work more this evening, but it's pinot noir night at the Thursday tasting.

I'm outta here.

Thank goodness . . .

2007-07-25T15:28:00.000-05:00

. . . for the archaic telephone line-based network of low-quality printers.

glumbert.com - The Internet has crashed

Thanks for the link to both Krista and Steven.

Bad Corporate Logos (And Ethos)

2007-07-17T18:26:00.000-05:00

Not long after I graduated college, I started an asphalt sealing and striping company with a friend of mine. Neither of us knew much about it at the time. What we knew even less about was good design. We wanted a logo to go with "Permaseal," the name of our little startup. Between the two of us we came up with a seal (go figure) balancing an umbrella on its nose. Obviously, we were trying to convey a sense of impermeability. And cuteness, apparently. But why we needed the umbrella at all is beyond me: isn't sealskin protective enough?

Deluded as we were--oh, that's nice; yeah, looks great!--we somehow had the sense to ask a friend (and business major) for his vision. Here's what he came up with:

As soon as we saw it, we knew it was the right choice, and we just as instantly realized how utterly misguided our own efforts had been. The black and yellow are authoritatively "construction company," and the bold font and checkerboard pattern are simple but strong: We don't give or take bullshit, and we're not going to stop for a mocha on our way to making your driveway blacker than Dick Cheney's heart. There's almost no room for misinterpretation.

We were lucky: we axed our crappy logo before anybody but the two of us saw it. Not everyone can say that. In fact, there is at least one logo out there that defies rational explanation (but I'm betting there are many more). What on God's green earth were they thinking with this one? Clearly, it wasn't about God's green earth. This famous paint company logo has to be the most misguided, utterly clueless, hopelessly off-target logo I have ever seen. It's almost as if they didn't even hire a professional (or at least a stoned intern) to design it. Unless, of course, that professional is Montgomery Burns, and his plan is to literally coat the globe with a life-choking coat of red, eerily blood-like paint.

So, my challenge is this: can you find a more asinine corporate logo than the one belonging to this paint company? It'll be hard, not unlike the 50-mile thick layer of paint some apparently want to see crusted over the polar ice caps.

Call Me Scully

2007-07-15T21:23:00.000-05:00

I recently had three weird things happen to me (and people I was with) that, were I more like Mulder, I would interpret as evidence of the supernatural. But I'm a born skeptic, so it's Scully all the way for me.

The Phenomena
First, Lee and I were having lunch Friday at a Mexican restaurant with Liz Rohan, who stopped by BG on her way back to Detroit from a research trip to central Ohio. About ten minutes into things, the salsa dish spontaneously moved two or maybe three inches. I thought I was hallucinating until Lee asked if anybody else saw it. And it wasn't just a casual inching; it was a sudden lurch.

Second, at the end of lunch, we all got up and Lee said to Liz, "Don't forget your glasses case." Liz said that the case, which was sitting right next to where her plate had been the whole lunch, was not hers and that, as far as she knew, it had not been there even a minute before. (I never actually saw the case, since I was by then at the cash register, but I know I--like Lee and Liz--never noticed it during lunch.)

Third, this morning around 5 or 6 a.m., the ceiling fan in our bedroom suddenly switched off, and at the same time the overhead light turned on. I thought either Lee or I was sleeping on the remote, but she reached over and found it right where it always is--on the nightstand.

Mulder: The Irrational, Fun, Fantastic Explanation
We were, and are, being haunted: Liz is doing some pretty fascinating work with the diaries of some departed souls, and the weird things started happening when she showed up. Somehow some of her strange archival mojo followed her up I-75 and into El Zarape. Then it rubbed off on Lee and me, since we were both really into what Liz had to say about the diaries and the family of men who wrote them. It makes sense if you think about it: few people other than Liz study men's diaries, even though men who keep diaries (especially diaries that are so cognizant of a wider readership, as Liz says these are) probably feel they have something to say to posterity. It's no wonder they're a bit restless in the afterlife. Or, at least, their publicists are.

Scully: The Rational, Dull, True Explanation
Scully would point out that, paranormal publicists notwithstanding, the ghosts would almost certainly have continued to follow Liz and, so, would have no interest in our bedroom ceiling fan. (What could Lee and I do to help them?) Besides, there's a rational explanation for everything we experienced:

There was a lot of condensation on the bottom of the salsa bowl. I suspect that, as it dripped down the sides, it accumulated underneath until it reached a tipping point that allowed the bowl hydroplane across the no-doubt-not-level table. This would explain the sudden, lurching nature of the movement.
I've been an adult long enough to know that even moderate amounts of stress, fatigue, or preoccupation could keep me from noticing a Ferrari parked in my living room. Just because we hadn't noticed the glasses case on the table doesn't mean it hadn't been there all along.
This one's the easiest of all: being remote-controlled, our ceiling fan/light defaults to a fan off, light on position after the power is cut and then restored. We simply lost power for a second or so this morning, as the blinking digital clocks around the rest of the house attested later.

Postscript
Still, that's a noteworthy number of very unusual things happening within the space of a day and a half. I'm in my office now, after hours, and I'm watching my back.

After all, Scully may have had a reason for her skepticim. But she was also the one who always seemed to find herself alone, facing a bizarre and horrifying death, while Mulder made goo-goo eyes at the hot entomologist.

Tasting Notes

2007-07-12T21:12:00.000-05:00

Warning: if you don't like to read the kind of highly detailed, figurative descriptions of wine and beer that might be found in/on professional tasting magazines/websites, then this isn't the post for you. (Not that I'm a professional. I am, however, an enthusiastic amatuer.)

While we’re on the subject of wine and beer tastings (see previous post), I might as well share my thoughts on a few I tried this evening at my neighborhood store's Thursday tasting.

Wine

I tried two Carmignanos (Italy/Tuscany) from the winery Ambra. The Vigna di Montefortini (2004), a blend of sangiovese, cabernet sauvignon, merlot, and canaiolo, and the Santa Cristina (2004), a blend of sangiovese, cabernet sauvignon, canaiolo, colorino, syrah, and merlot, are both nice but a bit young. The chianti-like, light-to-medium bodied Montefortini has straightforward and tasty cherry and oak flavors, with just enough acidity to give the wine some backbone and keep it interesting. The medium-to-full bodied Santa Cristina is more complex, with blackberry, currant, and dried orange peel and a more developed earth and oak quality than the Montefortini, though the young tannins could use a few years in the bottle to mellow.

But the showstopper—at $19.99, no less—is a wine that can and should be drunk right now. (In two to five years, though, go with the Santa Cristina). The Allegrini Pallazo della Torre (2003), a blend of corvina, rondinella, and sangiovese, has ripe, juicy blackberry and black plum fruit with oak and wet soil notes and an almost primally dark finish. The flavor arc may not be as seamless as a top southern Rhone or even a good Australian Shiraz, but it’s more than complex and interesting enough to be worth a try.

Beer

Tried two, and the only one really worth talking about is the Victor’s MemoriAle Altbier from Two Brothers Brewing in Illinois. It has a mellow, deep flavor of rich, toasty, slightly smoky malt, without being overly sweet, as is the case with many American craft beers. It also has enough hoppiness to create a clean finish that isn’t too floral or bitter (though, being American brewers, they do push both the malt and the hops right up to the edge). All in all, a beer of admirable restraint in an American craft beer market flooded with sugary malt and unrestrained hops. If you’re sick of gigantic barleywines and medicinally herbal hop-teas, check out this altbier.

One Question and Two Statements

2007-07-06T22:16:00.000-05:00

What's up with every third person on the Food Network making the "too bad they don't have 'smell-o-vision'" joke? If you say it do you get to hang out in the executive box at an Emeril Live taping or something?

I recently tried my second wine ever from the Ribera del Duero region in Spain. It was the second one I loved.

I just finished an article. It will be in the mail tomorrow.

E-mail Trouble

2007-06-22T20:42:00.001-05:00

I'm not the only one. I couldn't be.

I'm talking about send-anxiety. I could be writing the most innocuous e-mail imaginable. You know: "~~Hello.~~ ~~Dear Mary,~~. ~~Whazzup?~~ Hi Mary. I ~~was wondering~~ am writing to see if whether you're still interested in joining ~~our~~ the writing group . . . .

But if it's addressed to somebody who is:

a. in the profession (esp. with more experience or authority than I have), and

b. not somebody I already know well

then I am liable to reread the text so many times to make sure it doesn't contain a silly mistake or a carelessly worded phrase that its seems to lose all meaning and becomes mere inscription.

Of course, send-anxiety doesn't happen every time, even when conditions are favorable. But when it does, it's like being sucked into a psychological pothole that could swallow a Mini Cooper. The longer this goes on, the harder it is to send the damn thing. Pretty soon, the entire recursive revise/reread/revise process--itself anathema to most e-mail correspondence--collapses in on itself, becoming instead a blank, affectless staring at a pixelated screen.

Ah, composition.

¡Ay, caramba!

2007-06-18T10:08:00.000-05:00

Dennis Baron reports that congress has made English the United States' national language, requiring undocumented workers to "pay fines, go back to their home countries, and learn English before they can re-enter the U.S. legally."

This law (tacked onto the immigration reform bill, as Baron tells us) is as simultaneously mean-spirited and ignorant as I have come to expect right-wing America to be. [edited: the bill actually enjoyed bipartisan support, but the part about language was tacked on by Sen. James Inhofe (R-OK), and it bespeaks a xenophobia that has become a hallmark of American conservatism.] Large-scale linguistic trends are both robust and radically decentered, and if the U.S. socio-economic climate is such that Spanish is destined to gain an eqaul footing with English--which Baron says is not even close to being the case, with "94% of U.S. residents already [speaking English], and the rest . . . learning it as fast as they can"--then not even the brute force of the law is going to put much of a damper on the process. (Just ask anybody in the undocumented worker-dependent restaurant industry how much immigration laws affect their hiring practices.) To paraphrase the fictional chaotician Ian Malcom, "language finds a way." In fact, about all such a law could do is push immigration further underground, which would actually create even more illegal immigration.

If conservatives really want to keep them furriners out of the U.S., they need only keep doing what they have been doing since Bush took office--grinding away at our civil rights, our rights as workers, and our access to reasonable health care until nobody wants to come anymore.

Diablogism

2007-06-11T20:16:00.000-05:00

It's summer.

I'm at the office less and at home more. I'm mowing, sanding furniture, fixing up the guest room, grilling pineapple-ginger pork chops. What I'm not doing is reading other blogs. At least, not much, and certainly not with the frequency or breadth I maintain during the school year.

No surprise there. What is a surprise, though, is how much my blog writing appears to depend on my blog reading. While last summer was my first full summer as a blogger, I spent it moving twice (once to Chicago for an interim home base, and then a second time to Ohio) and house-hunting, so blogging was virtually predestined to be very light. But now, with no such ado in my life, I still find myself posting relatively sporadically. It occurs to me that one reason, and likely the main one, is that I am not nearly as regular an inhabitant of the blogosphere as I would be normally. I don't mean to suggest that I only blog when I am directly reacting to a post by somebody else, though that is sometimes the case. Rather, I mean to say that, whether you believe in such a thing as thinking like a blogger or not, for me I have to be immersed in a thing--or, at least, this thing--to feel it (in the pop-metaphysical sense). That is, I have to read others' blogs to be able to truly inhabit my own.

I suspect the same is true for many, and probably most, bloggers. But I wonder how true it is. That is, I know my blogging is usuallty dependent on this pretty straightforward dialogism, but I wonder what other kinds and degrees of dialogism there may be and how they may inform different blogging practices (dare I say different blog-writing processes?).

Any thoughts?

Critical Summer

2007-05-30T20:29:00.000-05:00

Edited: I finally gave this post a title. So much for blogging while very tired.

Lee's mom gave us a one-month free trial of Netflix. It's probably not the best idea for two pre-tenure professors who aren't teaching this summer so they can focus on research. But it's a great idea for two still-relatively-new parents who never, ever, make it to the movies. (A note to Jeff and Jenny and any other new parents out there: I just found out that a local theater has "baby films," with baby-friendly amenities like stroller areas and lowered movie volume. I bet Columbia has s.t. like that.)

Seen so far:
The Queen
Notes on a Scandal
Little Children
Arrested Development, Season one, disk one (#2 on the way)

Up next:
Stranger than Fiction

I actually though The Queen was pretty good. It was clear the filmmakers liked some of the characters (Elizabeth, Blair) and disliked others (Philip, Charles, Cherie Blair/Booth, Blair's top adviser whose name escapes me), and the little thread--more of an interlude, really--featuring the queen and the stag was a bit heavy-handed. But--aside from the queen/stag interlude--the movie never tried to be much other than a simple "here's what happened," with good acting, makeup, wardrobe, and sets. Not a masterpiece, but simple and well-done (if also with an agenda--but what such film doesn't?).

Notes on a Scandal was tolerable but annoying. Again, great acting, especially the boy at the heart of the scandal, who gets little notice. It's just hard to like a movie that has no likeable characters (unless that's the whole point, and in this case it wasn't).

Little Children was also pretty good. I read recently--maybe on a blog somewhere in the rhet/comp/communications sphere?--that the film was just another suburban-angst film, with the implication being that you can skip it. It's definitely got some standard-fare suburban and midlife angst, but it's also got some nicely unpredictable comic touches that make it worth at least a look: the grade-school documentary-style narrator is a hoot, as are some other great moments (like the slo-mo football game--really funny) that are strung throughout what would otherwise be too much misery and wallowing.

That's all for now (with apologies to Collin for lifting his sign-off, but I really gotta go.)

F***

2007-05-26T21:51:00.001-05:00

I'm not exactly sure how old the "short version" genre is, but I like it.

Yes, I'm 37.

Endless Summer

2007-05-21T18:55:00.000-05:00

This is the first year I've managed not to delude myself into thinking summer will be filled with vast expanses of unstructured, free time in which I can:

Research
Landscape/garden
Visit friends
Do a fix-it project a week on the house
Research
Plan classes
Start a regular exercise regimen
Research

But not being deluded doesn't doesn't help. (Try to slog your way through that syntax.) My heart still drops into my stomach when I think of all I have to get done. Among other things:

Everything on the above list, and more

Next year I think I'll let myself be deluded, if I can get back through that looking glass.

Mizzou-Rah Revisited

2007-05-03T23:47:00.000-05:00

In lieu of a new post, I'll just link to an old one. The only differences this time: my mom's knee is better, and we'll be coming back to Ohio (via Chicago) with patio furniture.

Just to up the ante, here are a few more enticing Missouri-based I-44 links for you would-be travelers.

Forecast: Intermittent Blogging

2007-04-30T09:26:00.000-05:00

While I certainly won't do the disappearing act I did last summer (when we moved twice and prepared for new jobs), I will likely only be blogging sporadically at best over the next couple-to-three weeks. With the end of the semester, summer travel plans, and various deadlines, things will just not be blogging-friendly around here for a while.

And speaking of deadlines, because we were only recently able to get our cfp into certain journals, Rick and I have decided to accept proposals for our project until June to give those journals' readers a fair chance to respond. FYI.

On the Ethics of Disciplinary Conflict

2007-04-22T22:48:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted anything in nearly a week, mostly because it's the end of the semester and I've been trying to translate a paper on the ethics of disciplinary reading and writing into a talk I'm giving to my department Tuesday.

In lieu of a real post, then, here's an excerpt from the paper's conclusion:

As Gary Olson writes: “Since the beginnings of composition as a discipline, we all have been struggling over how to define it, over its heart and soul” (30). True, Olson’s melodramatic rendering may overstate the stakes of disciplinary debate. But it should be clear by now that heart and soul, as the figurative repositories of those most affective aspects of our being, are very much a part of “composition as an intellectual discipline” (Olson 31). Equally true is that, so far, my portrayal of this struggle suggests a model of disciplinary conflict in which each stakeholder has an equal footing, in which each group possesses the same power to influence the theoretical, methodological, and practical directions the discipline will follow. But that, of course, is not the case. Irrespective of how amorphous, how open, how contested we choose to conceive of disciplinary communities, and irrespective of whether we imagine such communities to be oriented abstractly around shared epistemic values or concretely around material social practices, we must, I feel, acknowledge that disciplines derive much of their vitality from the give-and-take of the many different and—by some measures—distinct subdisciplinary systems that they comprise. That is, they derive their vitality from disequilibrium: the “energy” of disciplines is, as in all complex social systems, necessarily distributed unevenly. Indeed, disequilibrium may even be understood to be a precondition of complex social organization (Reed and Harvey). Such is the very essence of the idea of a paradigm, after all: certain groups possess disproportionate control of a discipline’s intellectual and material resources (things like editorial control of journals, representation in disciplinary governing bodies, and ability to procure grant monies).

Given, then, that it is not unreasonable to talk about groups of compositionists being in sometimes heated disagreement with other groups; given as well that the source of such “heat” is precisely the fact that our disciplinary and intellectual identities are deeply, fundamentally affective; and, finally, given that some groups tend to hold more disciplinary sway than others; then it is also not unreasonable to suggest that the “struggle” over the “heart and soul” of the discipline should be subject to similar concerns about politics and social justice as those of macrosocially-oriented identity politics.

fwiw

Sorrow

2007-04-16T20:44:00.000-05:00

My thoughts are with the people of Virginia Tech and their loved ones. Peace.

Orange and Blue

2007-04-15T19:02:00.000-05:00

Ok, so in these photos there's no blue. But Olivia's learning early who we root for in our house.

Maybe someday she'll be able to appreciate the sheer poetry that was the '04-'05 men's basketball team. Watching those guys just pass the ball was amazing. And the future's looking bright in football, too.

R.I.P. Kurt Vonnegut

2007-04-12T11:35:00.000-05:00

I'm sad to say that Kurt Vonnegut died.

Like many others, I could tell the story of how I discovered Vonnegut and how his writing has delighted and influenced me. But I'll leave the elegies for the more elegiacally-inclined, and simply note:

"Oh, well--he wasn't going to write Beethoven's Ninth Symphony anyway."

Let's Make Some More Knowledge

2007-04-11T17:45:00.000-05:00

You may have seen the following CFP in comp/rhet/English journals recently, but in case you haven't, I'm posting it here:

We invite proposals for essays for a collection that draws on the upcoming 25th anniversary of Stephen North’s The Making of Knowledge in Composition (MKC) as an occasion to assess the discipline of composition and its future. Because MKC remains one of composition’s monumental works, we invite retrospective accounts (rhetorical and critical analyses, reception histories, reflective narratives, and other scholarly treatments) of North’s unreservedly sweeping, undoubtedly important, and undeniably controversial book.

Rather than being merely retrospective, this collection seeks works that critically re-assess such things as MKC’s influence/impact, rhetoric, aims, and values--with an eye toward using such re-assessments to comment on the present and future of composition studies. By May 2007, please attach 500 word proposals to the editors, Lance Massey (lmassey@bgnet.bgsu.edu) and Richard Gebhardt (richgeb@bgnet.bgsu.edu).

We envision the collection containing a mix of established, up-and-coming, and brand new voices, and we welcome questions about proposals-in-process as well. We hope you'll consider submitting something.

Quick Lesson in Semiotics

2007-04-06T08:22:00.000-05:00

I took this picture this morning, in front of BGSU's ROTC building. I'm wondering whether they thought through the design before commissioning the project.

Overheard . . .

2007-04-03T13:17:00.000-05:00

. . . as two people passed my office door just now:

"No. Nobody in my family grows hair on the backs of their legs."

Next Year

2007-04-03T08:49:00.000-05:00

After finishing in the 34th percentile in Yahoo's "Tournament Pick 'em" contest this year, I've decided that next year all I'm going to do is watch college hoops and ESPN News. I may submarine my tenure chances, but I'll be sure to avoid being humiliated again come March. A man has to have priorities.

Congrats to Gators fans everywhere.

4C's, NY Style; And My Two Cents on Reading vs. Speaking

2007-03-28T17:27:00.000-05:00

Think you know what CCCC stood for this year? Think again.

1. Collateral. As in, what you need to put up to get a room service hamburger at the Hilton NY.
2. Cash. And a lot of it.
3. Credit. For when the cash runs out.
4. Chapter 11. The only option left for most people after a conference in New York.

Those things aside, I enjoyed the conference. I was especially impressed by the U of Wisconsin-Madison grad student presenations I saw; they seem to be doing some really smart, interesting things. (Others are too, I'm sure, but I just happened to find myslef at a disproportinately high number of their talks.)

I had a great time catching up with old friends and mentors at the U of Illinois party and elsewhere (at the same time I was able to catch up on my sadly lagging Guinness quota). I also really enjoyed meeting Jeff, Lanette, and Scot. I hope to meet still more of you soon. It was also nice to catch up with Andy.

Finally, let me just say a few words about the read vs. talk debate (which rages, predictably, every year just after C's ends). In a nutshell: people just need to relax. We rightly hope for generous presenters--presenters who keep our needs and wants as audience members in mind. But that generosity needs to flow both ways. I wouldn't presume to know why somebody chooses to read a dense paper quickly or why somebody else chooses to give an unscripted narrative-based talk. So I get what I can from a talk [edited to add: I try to contribute during discussion when I can, too] and move on--sometimes disappointed, but always trying not to be judgmental.

For example, this year I heard two papers on Žižek that were almost unintelligible for their density and speed of delivery, and at first I was kind of pissed (the panel gave no indication that he would be a central focus). But then I forced myself to be a generous hearer: maybe these guys were nervous and needed the security of the text. Maybe they were still learning the presentation ropes. Maybe they felt so utterly compelled by their material that they could conceive of nothing to cut, no way to slow down. Maybe they really didn't give a shit whether I could follow or not. Maybe a hundered other things I can't think of right now. We can't know, and we shouldn't presume we can. Our only recourse, then, is to give the speaker/readers the benefit of the doubt.

For me, it boils down to these simple truths: You're going to be dazzled by a presentation or two. You're going to at least be engaged by some. And, inevitably, you're going to be disappointed by a few. But you're in a cool city. You're eating good food. You're with friends. Relax.

NYCCCC

2007-03-20T13:23:00.000-05:00

I'm off to C's, so I won't be blogging for several days. (I assume wireless at the NY Hilton costs about a million bucks an hour.) I hope to meet some of the rhet/comp bloggers I've only known virtually so far. See you in NYC.

I Hate March Madness

2007-03-16T16:15:00.000-05:00

Day two and my bracket's already totally shot. Wizard that I am, I picked Notre Dame to go to the final four, and now they're out in round one. What was I thinking? Notre Dame?

That's like placing an unboxed, unwheeled superfecta bet with a 15:1 horse in first place. Ain't gonna happen.

Satire May be Dangeral to Your Health

2007-03-15T12:15:00.000-05:00

For those of you who read (past tense) Michael Bérubé's blog more than once or twice, you know he was (and no doubt still is in his non-blog life) very fond of satire. You also know that sometimes you had to be well into a post to be certain that what you were reading even was satire. Michael rarely winked, and when he did, it was often as easy to miss as a swallowed article in his mani(a)cally fast speech.

But I'm still surprised that, lately, my blog is getting a fair number of hits from people Googling "dangeral" or "dangeral studies" (I mentioned the term in a previous post)--the area of expertise Michael listed on his blog after Horowitz's dangerous professors book came out.

Now, it might be possible that people are out there trying to find Bérubé and, having associated him with the term "dangeral," type it into Google to track him down. But, given that those people are either a) likely to already know how to find Bérubé on the web or b) simply going to use his name as the search term, I have to believe that there are people out there trying to find out more about the scholarly area of "dangeral studies."

If you're one of those people, let me settle this once and for all . . . .

On second thought, I'll never tell.

Yeah? Well, the jerk store called, and they're running out of you.

2007-03-10T22:38:00.000-05:00

Being interested in the dynamics of disciplinary conflict, I'm always on the lookout for oppositional or even confrontational rhetoric in my readings in rhet/comp/writing studies. There's an exchange between Russel Durst and Bill Thelin in the September 2006 CCC that pushes right up to the edge of nastiness but doesn't quite go over. But, for history's sake, I thought I'd pull out my all time favorite confrontational rhet/comp moment:

David Bartholomae gave Stephen North's The Making of Knowledge in Composition a blisteringly negative review. In a subsequent exchange in Pre/Text (Vol. 11, 1990), North says that “Dave makes some pretty derogatory comments about my work, my professional ethos, maybe—depending on how you feel about the connections among such things—me” (108). Then North goes on to agonize about how to “handle” Bartholomae’s criticisms “fairly,” admitting that:

certainly a more genuinely expressive (response), as I understand people to use the term—would be a loud, dismissive ‘Shit’ (drawn out and descending almost into voicelessness, as we do it where I grew up); or maybe an infinitely disgusted, derisive, ‘Fuck you.’ (108)

Now that's something you don't read in an academic journal everyday.

Baudrillard Dead

2007-03-07T17:22:00.000-05:00

I read over at schizzes and flows that Jean Baudrillard died.

It's a tight race between him and Derrida for first theorist to ever just plain blow my mind. I have a Ph.D. in large part because of Simulacra and Simulation.

R.I.P.

Unconscious Plagiarism

2007-03-06T21:29:00.000-05:00

Not long ago I posted an entry with the title "Burke on Morphine." I know I had seen Debbie Hawhee's RSQ piece "Burke on Drugs," but I wasn't thinking about it (at least, not consciously) when I wrote my post. I wonder, though, whether, had I never heard of her piece at all, I would have come up with the same title.

Anyway, this is really just to say that I wasn't trying to steal from you, Debbie--at least, not intentionally. Honest!

Must. Post. Picture.

2007-03-03T09:31:00.000-05:00

Since I began this blog, I've made a conscious choice not to bring my family into it too much--the occasional mention of Lee (my wife) or Olivia (my daughter). But after Derek's post of Is's unbearably cute seven-month photo, I can't take it any more. So I thought I'd share a photo of Olivia, still in her crib on the morning of her first b-day (exactly one month ago). She's even still got tears in her eyes from the crying that let us (ok, Lee; I was still blissfully asleep) know she was awake:

Copyright Blues

2007-02-27T09:11:00.000-05:00

There's a brilliant New Yorker cartoon I want to post here, under the heading, "Not your parents' rhetorical triangle," but I'm not willing to shell out $360 bucks for the "website" copyright (there's no blog category). I wouldn't shell out 1/100th of that, to tell you the truth.

So instead I'm linking to the cartoon in its "please buy me" form. Oh--and I'm cutting out the print version and taping it to my office door. Not quite sticking it to the man, but it'll have to do.

(Carnival.) To Trimbur: Yes.

2007-02-21T17:01:00.000-05:00

I don't have a lot of extra time right now, but I need to at least get in a cent's worth or two on the Trimbur article, "Changing the Question: Should Writing Be Studied."

I'll start by saying that I belong to a very small minority of people who travel in rhet/comp circles whose degree is actually in writing studies--not rhetoric, not composition, not rhetoric and composition (or vice versa). My academic training lies precisely in work oriented to the activity theory-inspired questions of “what writing does and how it does it” (Bazerman and Prior).

So, given my history, it's easy for me to just answer the question of whether writing should be studied with a simple "yes." Of course it should. The trickier questions Trimbur hints at are: what kinds of writing should be studied, how, and why? It's interesting that Trimbur, in offering a framework for how we might begin answering these questions, and despite his admission to identifying with the Olson camp in the new theory wars, never ceases to frame the question in terms of the teaching of writing.

I’ll explain: Trimbur spends the bulk of his essay not answering the question of whether writing should be studied but, rather, trying to frame how we might go about answering it. Even more to the point, he tries to frame the question in such a way as to bridge the apparent divide between the pro-theory and the pro-teaching factions of the new theory wars (I’m oversimplifying here, obviously, but this is the general dynamic Trimbur addresses). Or, at least, he tries to alleviate the fears of those invested in the teaching of writing, and especially FYC, that a shift to “writing studies” would spell the end for them and the subject about which they care so much.

His final sentence captures this conciliatory spirit:

in many respects the work of theorizing and enacting the study of writing is to make transparent and teachable the social relations and bodies of knowledge that now silently underwrite the first-year course-to organize the study of writing as an intellectual resource for undergraduates.

This claim makes an interesting move, though. Trimbur wants to assuage the fears of those invested in the teaching of writing/composition that a move to “writing studies” is not exclusive of their interests, offering the assurance that the study of writing will enrich, rather than deprive, an undergraduate writing curriculum. But a writing studies orientation opens up avenues for inquiry that go way, way beyond the illumination of the “bodies of knowledge that now silently underwrite” FYC. As Trimbur himself observes, writing scholars study grocery lists. They also study baseball cards, requisition forms, funding request forms, instruction manuals, facebook pages, notes found lying on the ground, and all other manner of inscription. (This is not to say that these things cannot inform FYC, though often they show little or no interest in doing so: writing studies does not feel the pedagogical imperative with anything like the intensity composition does.)

This fact masks another slippage, one not identified by Trimbur in his article. His defense of writing studies as beneficial to undergraduate education, particularly in the final sentence, elides the difference between courses explicitly designed to develop or enhance literacies—either general or specific, depending on what side of that disciplinary fence you’re standing on—and courses designed to explore the nature of such phenomena as the acquisition of literacy, disciplinary enculturation, or the roles that writing plays in the production and maintenance of complex social systems and networks of relations. (I'm aware that the two can and usually do inform each other, but I suspect as guiding orientations they are, more often than not, distinct.)

Such lines of inquiry could no doubt lead to wonderfully rich, fascinating undergraduate educational experiences (and they have, and do). But for most defenders of the traditional FYC model, such a curriculum still threatens their very reason for being, which is to either:

a) preserve the FYC class “as a pedagogical site with the potential to influence very large numbers of students, and for its importance as a site of struggle and change within the institutional hierarchy of academia” (Roemer, Schulz, and Durst 1999: 378), or
b) maintain a devotion to what Joseph Petraglia calls “general writing skills instruction,” or
c) both.

For the record: I agree with Trimbur. I also admire his other work and consider him an influence in my own intellectual development; I just don’t necessarily think his argument in this case is as transparent is it could be.

That said, my answer to whether writing should be studied is still “yes.” We have a lot to learn from studying writing, and what we have to learn exceeds what I would consider the relatively narrow—though extremely important—bounds of figuring out how best to teach writing. Writing (both noun and participle) is one of the most fundamental and powerful productive (and destructive) forces of modern human social life: it allows us to present, represent, organize, communicate, preserve, disseminate, and transform the information (understood in its most complex sense) and decisions that are vital to the maintenance of both our most basic and our most complex social, cultural, and political organizations and institutions. It moves us, it infuriates us, it bores us, it stirs us to action. Trying to figure out the ways it does all these things is among the most important tasks institutions of higher learning can undertake.

But saying that reveals a still deeper rift in our so-called theory wars: whereas composition is, and always has been, a deeply (and primarily) ethical enterprise, writing studies is, first and foremost, a project of discovery: it’s about “understanding how texts and textual practices in some social arena reflect and create certain social relations” (Bazerman and Prior 4). That’s not to say I don’t attend to ethics in my work, or that others in writing studies don’t either (my work is in many ways all about ethics). That’s also not to say that I’m not aware of the complex problems of representation and authority that attend all projects of discovery, from the controlled experiment to the most situated ethnographic study of literate practices. What it is to say, however, is that writing studies does not take as its point of departure the edification, liberation, spiritual awakening, or (fill-in-the-blank) of first-year (or any) college students (orientations that both Susan Miller, in “Writing Studies as a Mode of Inquiry,” and Kurt Spellmeyer, in “Education for Irrelevance,” critique).

I’m ok with that. In fact, that’s how I approach my work. (Though, without getting into the whole complex problem of whether writing skills transfer from one situation to the next, I do think literacy instruction is an important part of a student’s educational experience. I also attend extensively to literacy instruction in my classes) But, in the end, I think the distinction is something that is present in but needs to be teased out of Trimbur’s text.

Other carnival (and sort-of-pre-carnival) posts (so far): here, here, here, here, here, and here.

Works Cited

Bazerman, Charles, and Paul Prior, eds. What Writing Does and How It Does It: An Introduction to Analyzing Texts and Textual Practices. Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum, 2004.

Miller, Susan. "Writing Studies as a Mode of Inquiry." Rhetoric and Composition as Intellectual Work. Carbondale: Southern Illinois UP, 2002.

Roemer, Marjorie, Lucille M. Schulz, and Russel K. Durst. 1999. “Reframing the Great Debate on First-Year Writing.” College Composition and Communication 50: 377-92.

Spellmeyer, Kurt. “Education for Irrelevance? Or, Joining our Colleagues in Lit Crit on the Sidelines of the Information Age." Composition Studies in the New Millenium: Rereading the Past, Rewriting the Future. Ed. Lynn Bloom, Donald Daiker, Ed White. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois UP, 2003.

In a Word: Nuts Edition

2007-02-19T19:05:00.000-05:00

Over at Harmonia's Necklace, k8 lets us in on the latest skirmish in the culture wars:

In case you haven't heard, there is a controversy with this year's Newbery Award selection, The Higher Power of Lucky. The author had the "audacity" to use the word scrotum in the text. You can read about it here at NYT and here at librarian.net. Apparently, some parents, librarians, and teachers are trying to keep the book out of school libraries because of this one word (which, by the way, is used in a sentence that indicates that a rattlesnake bit a dog's scrotum - we aren't talking about pornography).

C'mon people. In a huff over "scrotum?" That's just nuts.

New Interface

2007-02-12T19:59:00.000-05:00

A couple others I'm aware of have already posted this video, but I had to share it.

[Edited to add: Guess I should have made sure the version I posted had subtitles. At least the links do, though.]

Burke On Morphine

2007-02-10T22:41:00.000-05:00

(Couldn't resist the sensationlistic title.)

I don't have any commentary, just a passage to share that reminded me again why Burke's examples--among so many of his other stylistic penchants--makes him just so damn much fun to read:

Similarly with the 'drug fiend,' who can take his morphine in a hospital without the slightest disaster to his character, since it is called medicine there; but if he injects it at a party, where it has the stigma of dissipation upon it, he may gradually organize his character about this outstanding 'altar' of his experience--and since the altar in this case is generally accepted as unclean, he will be disciplined enough to approach it with unclean hands, until he is a derelict.

[Edited to add: From Permanence and Change, 3rd California ed., pp. 77-78]

It's Sooo Cold

2007-02-04T10:29:00.000-05:00

How cold is it?

It's so cold that there was a sheet of ice (not a light frosting, mind you, but a sheet of actual ice) on the inside of one of our windows this morning.

It's so cold that when my piping hot mocha sloshed out of the spill-proof top in the parking lot, it was cold when it hit my fingers.

It's so cold that Lee and I dressed Olivia (who turned one yesterday!) in a Halloween kitty-cat suit because it's the warmest outfit she has.

It's -2 degrees. Without the windchill (-17 windchill).

But none of that will matter in a few hours, when I bust out my homemade wings, crack a few Pilsner Urquells, and watch the Bears open up a can of whoopass on the Colts.

Wha Happened?

2007-01-31T15:37:00.000-05:00

Um, ok. I know when people get very busy they can also get distracted and miss details. But c'mon. Somehow, I either didn't alphabetize new entries to my blogroll, or I alphabetized them according to a system I can no longer remember or decipher. Now that's distracted.

It's fixed. For now.

[Update: I've now added more links. But I'm still feeling detail-challenged. If you notice a link that doesn't work or goes to the wrong site (lots of copy/pasting going on in my template) or even a link that disappeared (don't think that happened but want to acknowledge that it may have), then let me know and I'll take care of it.]

Little Writer

2007-01-29T11:40:00.000-05:00

I need to develop a coherent philosophy of snark.

In the comments section of a recent post, I sort of made fun of expressivists by exhorting a friend from grad school to sing, "Kumbaya, Elbow, Kumbaya." I meant it to be ironic and self-depricating; I mean, who am I--and what have I contributed to composition--to be so flippant about one of our field's most important figures or the pedagogy that he has come to symbolize? But, on rereading, I fear that the comment is much more likely to be received as arrogant and self-satisfied. Ick.

Which is why I'm a little hesitant to register my complaint about this short piece in the latest New Yorker. After all, maybe I'm misreading it in the same way my comment could be misread. But I'm going to go ahead, trusting that anybody with a different interpretation will share it with me.

In "The Talk of the Town" section Jeffrey Goldberg reports that, on the heels of the Colbert disaster last year (what a beautiful thing it was to watch), the White House Correspondents' Association has chosen Rich Little to entertain this year's guests. Yet Goldberg's detached, reporterly perspective is really an ironic vehicle for portraying Little as a washed-up, pathetic old comic. While he might ultimately have his sights set on skewering the press for its continuing meekness in the face of the White House and hence for hiring someone they perceive as innocuous, his choice to run the skewer through Little seems to me unneccesarily cruel. Goldberg tells us, for example, that, "[w]hen asked to name a young comedian he admired, (Little) responded, 'Robin Williams. He’s just off the wall.'" Goldberg goes on to note that Little's "web site features a hundred and sixty-three impersonations including those of eight cartoon characters, three Muppets, and a hundred and fifteen people who are dead. These include Red Skelton, Broderick Crawford, Telly Savalas, and Maurice Chevalier."

It's not as if I'm against snark. If I were, I would have a coherent philosophy of it. I would be anti-snark. But there were times when I couldn't get enough of Le Blogue Bérubé (R.I.P.) knifing into Horowitz with surgeon-like control and precision, expertly retracting the thin layer of feigned sensibility (with a little "victim" thrown in) to reveal a rhetoric so corrupt and putrified that it almost literally stunk. But there are times when it just seems uncalled for, and this is, I think, one of those times. Horowitz, raving madman and weasel extraordinaire, is actively--and I might add successfully--spreading an insidious brand of lunacy across the U.S. Little tells jokes and does impersonations. That's not to say that humor can't have political teeth (see Colbert reference above). But, as far as I can tell, the closest Rich Little comes to political activism is the Ronald Reagan tribute on his website. He's hardly a menace, even to people like me who think Reagan was very, very bad for our country and the world.

If Little really is as old, pathetic, and washed-up as Goldberg apparently wants us to believe, then to target him for snark is to simply kick a guy because you can.

Big Ups, Doc

2007-01-27T19:04:00.000-05:00

For those of you who may not know, I'm still in my first year at Bowling Green, and when I got here I was assigned the office space just vacated by Andrew Mara when he and Sport made the big move to NDSU. When they moved, though, Andrew kindly left a very nice white board hanging in the office (complete with cleaning agent!), which I have until now used mainly to illustrate grammatical concepts to confused students from my "teaching grammar in context" language arts class.

That just changed. Tonight, there was something about the large scale and the vertical on-the-wallness of that board that helped me finally work through a sticking point in my current research. I've scribbled. I've outlined. I've used MS Word in just about every conceivable way, from freewriting to making bulleted lists to slogging page by page through my argument. But it was the big white board next to my desk that finally helped me see the writing on the wall.

Thanks, Andrew.

Experience and Disciplinary Donnybrooks

2007-01-26T16:16:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about experience as a nexus of debate and inquiry in rhetoric and composition: who tends to write about experience, from it, or both? How do they tend to define experience? Who tends not to write about it, and--if it's possible to surmise an answer short of launching a situated qualitative study, which I won't be doing in the extremely near future--why not?

What I'm finding is that it's nearly impossible in rhet/comp to talk about experience without immediately, even automatically, equating it to personal experience. Is there any other kind?, you may be asking yourself. Well, in one sense, obviously, no: all experience is personal to the extent that it presupposes a subject doing the experiencing. But it seems to me that the yoking of the terms personal and experience in composition carries with it more epistemological baggage than would seem to be suggested by the simple and relatively uncontroversial observation that all experience is subjective.

To wit: writing from and/or about experience in rhet/comp tends to be oriented around either expressivist or liberatory-critical theories of teaching, researching, and composing, or sometimes a hybrid of the two. In the case of expressivism, experience is troped as a repository of potential insights--as a way to write (about) the events of one's life to help one make sense of the world and, perhaps, communicate that sense to others. In the case of liberatory-critical work, experience tends to be theorized from within an identity politics that sees it as an effect of, or at the very least in tension with, broadly social forces--class, gender, ethnicity, sexuality, age, and other categories we use to both read and make our worlds--as they intersect in unique ways in different individuals.

Naturally, I'm oversimplifying things a bit here. But what strikes me as important is that automatically coupling experience and the personal--even if your point is that even utterly unique personal experience can nevertheless be understood and rendered in social and political terms (a common and, I might add, convincing argument)--leaves out a realm of experience that was never truly personal, at least in a conventional sense, in the first place. I mean, generally, it's up to the individual author to explicate or reflect on her experience for us so we can appreciate whatever point about self or society she wants to make. But what of disciplinary and metadisciplinary arguments whose participants may have many experiences in common--experiences that are central to one's attitudes and intellectual commitments toward the subject in question?

For example, Marjorie Roemer, Lucille Schultz, and Russel Durst claim that new abolitionists basically characterize everything related to FYC in "evisceratingly negative" terms (see "Reframing the Great Debate," in CCC 50:3)--a claim that cannot be reasonably supported by reading published arguments against the universal FYC requirement. But how much of their sense that new abolitionists are the barbarians at the gate has come from conference sessions like the ones in '93 and '94, when the latest abolitionist debate was really building a head of steam? How much of it comes from comments made on Megabyte University or the WPA-L in the mid- and late-1990's? How much of it comes from encountering colleagues who were dismissive of "dumb" FYC students, naive FYC defenders, and evil WPAs?

These kinds of experiences seem to be off limits or, at least, are not made very visible, in rhet/comp scholarship. And, yet, I'd argue that they are precisely the kinds of experiences that can really be productive fonts of knowledge and vigorous academic debate: What really did happen at C's in San Diego in 1993? Is there really such a disconnect between the rational, relatively even-keeled published arguments for abolishing the universal FYC requirement and what encounters with my colleagues would seem to indicate is not only an intellectual but also a deeply emotional aversion to FYC?

You can't argue with an author when you read that as a child he used to run around the playground making up words for common objects or when another author recalls the details of a childhood conversation with her mother. And who would want to? But you can argue with somebody who writes that a specific new abolitionist acts as if pro-FYC folk are either simpletons or comp-bosses, even if that doesn't come through in the person's writing writing.

Imagine, then, what sorts of conversations, in print and otherwise, we might have if more of us did draw on experiences that are not uniquely ours but, rather, that belong, either in type or actual instance, to many others as well, and others who are stakeholders in the disciplinary conversations we participate in. To get there, though, would seem to call for rethinking experience in rhetoric and composition.

You Did Not Just Say That!

2007-01-15T22:15:00.000-05:00

I'm working on a project about the ethics of experience in composition research and scholarship, and in my reading I came across this little gem of a recollection by the author of a widely-used textbook on teaching writing:

Most college writing programs differ in numerous ways, but they have many goals in common. These goals were described by the Council of Writing Program Administrators (WPA) . . . and published as an outcomes statement in 1999. At the time of this writing, the president of the WPA . . . was such an important person that she was far too busy to write a one-page permission letter allowing us to reproduce the outcomes statement here (usually deemed a simple matter of professional courtesy), so instead of reproducing the statement, I have summarized its key features . . . . (281)

Are you kidding me? The first time I read this passage, my immediate thought was, somebody at [publisher] lost their job over this one. To make matters worse, the author actually uses the president's name, which I chose to elide for this post. I know academic discourse can get contentious, but jeez.

In a Word: Dangeral Edition

2007-01-10T20:56:00.000-05:00

Most who read this blog will probably already know that Michael Bérubé has decided to hang up his keyboard. His retirement will leave the lefty-academic blogosphere (and most of the rest of it as well) greatly diminished. It will be a long time before another blogger with Michael's combination of formiddable intelligence, boundless knowledge, sharp wit, and unsappable energy comes along.

So, in honor of his retirement from blogging, this week's "In a Word" will feature a term that Michael himself coined: dangeral. As in his official title, "Michael Bérubé, Department of Dangeral Studies."

A Trotskyite faction of cultural studies--and the new avant garde of the (ultra)liberal arts--dangeral studies is an area of scholarly ~~inquiry~~ indoctrination that wears its plans for leftist global domination on its elbow-patch-adorned sleeve.

До свидания, comrade Bérubé.

In a Word

2007-01-03T20:15:00.000-05:00

I'm going to try to pay attention to interesting words I come across in my reading and feature one or two occasionally here. I haven't decided yet how regularly, but I might try to make it a once-a-week thing, like Bérubé's ABF Fridays or Spencer's Found Fridays.

The inaugural installation: lagniappe.

–noun
1. Chiefly Southern Louisiana and Southeast Texas. a small gift given with a purchase to a customer, by way of compliment or for good measure; bonus.
2. a gratuity or tip.
3. an unexpected or indirect benefit. (From dictionary.com--in this case a better resource than the OED).

"As long as the freshman-sophomore persistence rate goes up, [first-year composition] is a good investment, and the fact that the students get some real graduation credits for the experience is lagniappe."

--Bob Connors, characterizing administrators' attitudes toward FYC in a 1997 post to the WPA-L.

While We're on the Subject

2006-12-26T19:19:00.000-05:00

After I put up the previous post (first in over a month), I saw Andy's comment back in November admonishing me to "feed the blog."

Well, Andy, if you must know, the blog went on a hunger strike to protest the playing of Christmas songs and the having of Christmas parades long before Thanksgiving. I mean, Thanksgiving has its own vibe--earthy and crisp and vaguely russet-colored--and you sure can't groove on yams and crisp-fried sage with the man in red breathing down your ~~chimney~~ neck.

But this blog has finally realized the futility of railing against overhasty noëlling. It's death, taxes, and the extended Christmas shopping season, after all. So I guess the time's come to nurse this little weblog back to health.

I'll start with a few questions:

Back in August, I posted an entry explaining how I tend to blog in spurts and am only good at regular or semi-regular posting during the semester. Am I a "type," I wonder? Is there a name for feast-or-famine bloggers? Is spurty blogging looked down upon by more regular bloggers? Does a blogger have a responsibility to her faithful readers (not sure I ever had any, which is why this question is hypothetical) to post at least semi-regularly? Or is it just about the law of the market--no posts = no readers?