Two Things

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.

Tis the CCCC-son

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!

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

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.