Reviews for Elements of writing

The average rating for Elements of writing based on 2 reviews is 3 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2020-12-22 00:00:00 Jack Wallace Humor is the most perilous of writing forms, full of risk; to make a vocation of brightening the reader’s day is an act of continuing gallantry. Specialization inspires in me a certain existential dread. This is of two sorts. The first is the despairing thought that, by specializing, I will come to know only a certain, restricted corner of the vast universe. The second, more puerile fear is that, by becoming a specialist, I will commit myself on a path I won’t like very much. Generalization is often, I suspect, motivated as much by fear of commitment as by humanistic curiosity. In Spanish there’s a word for a man who likes to sleep around—a picaflor—which conjures up the suggestive image of a bee going from flower to flower. Well, picaflores and Don Juans and Lotharios are generalists. Devoted husbands are specialists. Promiscuity aside, we continue to do homage to generalists with our notion of the “Renaissance Man,” and the quintessential Renaissance Man was of course Leonardo da Vinci. His notebooks are filled not only with “art,” but studies of anatomy, light, physics, engineering, music, and so much else. Last year I read a selection of Leonardo's notebooks, hoping to find out how one man could tackle so many disparate subjects. My conclusion was that his versatility was due to the application of his medium: drawing. By making careful, detailed sketches of things—bees, bodies, bridges—he came to understand them. His pencil thus acted as antennae, with which he probed and investigated his world. I thought: Could I do something similar? Certainly I have little talent as regards visual art. But I do have a verbal addiction. Perhaps I could use writing in a way similar to how Leonardo used sketching? Such an idea was hardly original. Soon I found out that Zinsser, the writing guru, already had a book about it. The idea of reading another Zinsser book was not especially appealing. I had already read his popular book On Writing Well, and came away with a sour taste in my mouth. But if I was going to be the next Leonardo, I had to swallow some pickles. Dutifully I bought this book; and, after equally dutiful procrastination, I am here to tell you about it. My first reaction was, again, distaste. This is not entirely rational. Every good writer has what I call a “literary personality”—related to, but not identical with, their real personality—and I simply do not like Zinsser’s. I do not wish to spend time with him or to invite him to supper. I cannot really articulate why I dislike him, in the same way I can’t say exactly why I don’t like the sound of people eating apples. He’s a strong writer and I agree with much of what he says. He is thoughtful, curious, broadly educated, sensitive to art, music, and literature, and generally benign in his means and ends. When I think about it, I really ought to like him quite a bit. Yet I don’t. Maybe this is because I object to the way he romanticizes his craft. Zinsser would have you believe that clear writing is one of the most difficult, dangerous, and distasteful activities in the world. It is so hard and so strenuous that it requires continual, backbreaking effort. Good writers are saints, many of them martyrs, including Zinsser himself: “I don’t like to write, but I take great pleasure in having written.” Zinsser makes very clear that his vocation is a heroic one, especially considering that he not only writes himself, but teaches it too: Why, then, would anyone in his right mind want to be a writing teacher? The answer is that writing teachers aren’t altogether in their right mind. They are in one of the caring professions, no more sane in the allotment of their time and energy than the social worker or the day care worker or the nurse. It takes serious audacity (to use a polite word) for a writing teacher to compare himself to a nurse. I also gag at this self-pity about the how hard it is to write well. Yes, it can be hard. Lots of things are hard. The only thing that sets writers apart is that they tend to whine the most eloquently. Even when I put my personal dislike aside, however, I still must conclude that this book is disappointing. It begins with an unnecessary autobiographical section on Zinsser’s childhood education. (Considering how much Zinsser likes to talk about omitting unnecessary material, I found this especially ironic.) The rest of the book consists of long excerpts of what Zinsser considers to be successful examples of writing in different subjects, from anthropology to chemistry, from geology to mathematics. The book could easily have been an anthology, and probably should have been. Most of what I wanted from this book is lacking. Yes, any subject can be written about engagingly—Zinsser didn’t need to prove this to me—but how do you go about doing that? Zinsser avoids the problem of methodology by insisting that good writing is learned by imitation. This is no doubt largely true; still I found it to be an abdication of this book’s promise: to give the would-be autodidact a strategy, or at least a few tips, for writing to learn. Another serious omission is that Zinsser does not provide any concrete advice for teachers looking to apply this philosophy to their classes. There are a few reported examples of teachers who have done so, and a lot of hortatory passages about the benefits of “writing across the curriculum,” but very little in the way of concrete strategies for implementing this idea. As both a student and a teacher, I found this irksome. Still, I suppose this book does have its value as a piece of propaganda. Zinsser is enthusiastic about writing, and his enthusiasm is contagious. For anyone skeptical that any subject—even chemistry, physics, or math—can be written well, or if you’re unsure whether writing can help you think and learn, you’ll find these doubts addressed here. For all its faults, this book does provide a glimpse of a compelling educational ideal: one that allows all of us to be picaflores in good conscience.

Review # 2 was written on 2021-05-09 00:00:00 Yukon Dave If you’ve read On Writing Well, you should read this book too. If you haven’t, you should read them both. Writing to Learn does a great job of summarizing the idea of “Writing Across the Curriculum.” It gives examples, justifications, and inspiration. I would sum up the book like this: 1. Writing helps us think. 2. Clear writing is clear thinking. 3. You can (and should to truly learn) about any subject. 4. Everyone (not just “writers”) writes. 5. We learn by imitation. 6. Every subject is accessible through clear writing. 7. Every field, subject, domain... has a literature. 8. There are two kinds of writing: explanatory and exploratory. 9. We can learn from anywhere, anyone. 10. We should look at the best examples in any field to learn. Zinsser gives examples from the worlds of science, math, art, music, physics, chemistry, psychology. As a teacher, this book inspires me to find good examples from the worlds of technology, comedy, video games, cooking, sports, movies, and other fields that my students are really into. Quote: “Therefore, for the purposes of this book, I’ll generalize outrageously that there are two kinds of writing. One is explanatory writing: writing that transmits existing information or ideas. The other is exploratory writing: writing that enables us to discover what we want to say. Call it Type B. They are equally valid and useful.” (Loc 832 via Kindle) Often exploratory writing is neglected in schools because it seems to “not have a point” or “not be graded” in the same way as final writing assignments might be. The irony, of course, is that the final writing assignment won’t be any good if the writer hasn’t explored the topic beforehand. This book helps explain how to to do that. Other quotes too good not to share: “...writing is a form of thinking, whatever the subject.” (Loc 36) “But every discipline has a literature - a body of good writing that students and teachers can use as a model; writing is learned mainly by imitation.” (Loc 36) “Clear writing is the logical arrangement of thought; a scientist who thinks clearly can write as well as the best writer.” (Loc 46) “I thought of how often the act of writing even the simplest document - a letter, for instance - had clarified my half-formed ideas. Writing and thinking and learning were the same process.” (Loc 55) “Learning, he seemed to be saying, takes a multitude of forms; expect to find them in places where you least expect them to be.” (Loc 180) “Contrary to general belief, writing isn’t something that only “writers” do; writing is a basic skill for getting through life.” (Loc 188) “Writing is thinking on paper. Anyone who thinks clearly should be able to write clearly - about any subject at all.” (Loc 188) “Students should be learning a strong and unpretentious prose that will carry their thoughts about the world they live in.” (Loc 228) “...there’s no subject that can’t be made accessible in good English with careful writing and editing.” (Loc 429) “...a piece of writing is a piece of thinking.” (Loc 761) “If clear writing is one of the foundations of a democratic society, don’t count on getting it from men and women with a college degree.” (Loc 1033) “Writers and learners will write better and learn more if they understand the “why” of what they are studying.” (Loc 1267) “Nonfiction writing should always have a point: It should leave the reader with a set of facts, or an idea, or a point of view, that he didn’t have before he started reading.” (Loc 1959) “Writer’s who think they are being criticized when only their writing is being criticized are beyond a teacher’s reach.” (Loc 3035) “If writing is learned by imitation, I want every learner to imitate the best.” (Loc 3156) “Moral: think flexibly about the field you’re writing about. Its frontiers may no longer be where they were the last time you looked.” (Loc 3243)