With an eye to defending the grandiloquent...
As Richard A. Lanham seems to be the resident persona non grata I decided to be controversial and like him. I will not say that wading through the swamp of intellectual dross is in any way an edifying process, save perhaps to strengthen a growing resolution to limit all words to three syllables or less. However, I don't think that this scoriaceous outpouring of Websterian prolixity is fueled by a selfish desire to "hear his own voice" or to put himself forward as being on a stratospheric level far and above the rest of us common folk. I believe that he writes with a dual purpose: to relay his opinion(s) regarding hypertext, the role of literature in modern society, and the changing interpretations and freshly dynamic nature of said literature, and also for the sheer joy of writing. He is exercising his phraseologic muscles, and the simple love he holds for words shines through the bog he made for his slightly more vernacular readers. I confess I would be tempted to do the same were my standing vocabulary as extensive as his obviously is. Either that or Webster sits on his bedside table. Is this urge not something we have all experienced with different skills? When doing something we enjoy, we attempt to take the experience to its fullest extent, to utilize and exploit our talents in the utter pleasure of ability. I can, therefore I will.
Going back to the first point, Lanham is not an aggressive writer. Overwhelming at times, granted, but he is not forcing his conclusions down the reader's throat. The typical reader cannot quite grasp what his conclusions are in the first place, so this is immaterial. Before every chapter, each one a sort of individual essay, there is a short commentary that in any other case could be regarded as a sort of disclaimer. Lanham does not apologize in advance for anything, though; he in fact takes great care to avoid any sort of mitigation at all, yet somehow still manages to not be overbearing. He actually mentions at some point (I have forgotten the specific page number) that his goal is to convince his readers to come to the same beliefs as himself, thereby diluting the verbiage with rhetoric. Rhetoric: the effective use of language, specifically public speaking, implicating the act of persuasion. As Lanham points out, a study unfairly sullied by pure-minded anti-highbrows setting themselves against vacuity and empty frivolity. In short, the use of big words to say nothing and seem everything. It is then ironic that so many of my classmates would consider Lanham to be the figurehead of this practice. He does however say something with his literary effusion, buried as it is beneath the layers of a glorified thesaurus. However encumbered and dripping with adornment and extraneity his writing, his opinion is still valid...dare we say legitimate?
As Richard A. Lanham seems to be the resident persona non grata I decided to be controversial and like him. I will not say that wading through the swamp of intellectual dross is in any way an edifying process, save perhaps to strengthen a growing resolution to limit all words to three syllables or less. However, I don't think that this scoriaceous outpouring of Websterian prolixity is fueled by a selfish desire to "hear his own voice" or to put himself forward as being on a stratospheric level far and above the rest of us common folk. I believe that he writes with a dual purpose: to relay his opinion(s) regarding hypertext, the role of literature in modern society, and the changing interpretations and freshly dynamic nature of said literature, and also for the sheer joy of writing. He is exercising his phraseologic muscles, and the simple love he holds for words shines through the bog he made for his slightly more vernacular readers. I confess I would be tempted to do the same were my standing vocabulary as extensive as his obviously is. Either that or Webster sits on his bedside table. Is this urge not something we have all experienced with different skills? When doing something we enjoy, we attempt to take the experience to its fullest extent, to utilize and exploit our talents in the utter pleasure of ability. I can, therefore I will.
Going back to the first point, Lanham is not an aggressive writer. Overwhelming at times, granted, but he is not forcing his conclusions down the reader's throat. The typical reader cannot quite grasp what his conclusions are in the first place, so this is immaterial. Before every chapter, each one a sort of individual essay, there is a short commentary that in any other case could be regarded as a sort of disclaimer. Lanham does not apologize in advance for anything, though; he in fact takes great care to avoid any sort of mitigation at all, yet somehow still manages to not be overbearing. He actually mentions at some point (I have forgotten the specific page number) that his goal is to convince his readers to come to the same beliefs as himself, thereby diluting the verbiage with rhetoric. Rhetoric: the effective use of language, specifically public speaking, implicating the act of persuasion. As Lanham points out, a study unfairly sullied by pure-minded anti-highbrows setting themselves against vacuity and empty frivolity. In short, the use of big words to say nothing and seem everything. It is then ironic that so many of my classmates would consider Lanham to be the figurehead of this practice. He does however say something with his literary effusion, buried as it is beneath the layers of a glorified thesaurus. However encumbered and dripping with adornment and extraneity his writing, his opinion is still valid...dare we say legitimate?
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