Doctored

Here it is… the review I wrote for the Writing for Academic Practice unit. The main part of the assignment was a reflective and critical commentary on the selected journal and the choices made in constructing the review; this was just an appendix.

BOOK REVIEW

Transformative learning and identity by Knud Illeris, Routledge, 2013, 157pp., £24.99 (paperback), ISBN 978-0415838917

Transformative learning is any process that results in a change in one’s identity; who we experience ourselves being, and how we want to be experienced by others. Aimed at teachers and/or researchers in the field of adult learning and education, Illeris’ latest book is the culmination of ten years’ focused engagement with what he describes as ‘the most advanced’ of four basic types of learning proposed in his earlier work. Building primarily on the work of Mezirow and Erikson on transformative learning and identity respectively, this text aims to consolidate and extend contemporary understandings of ‘learning as change’.

The book is organised in three sections, each beginning with a brief outline of the chapters that follow. In the first section Illeris explains what transformative learning is, and how it can be understood, opening in Chapter 2 with an explanation of how the concept has developed since its launch by Mezirow in 1978. Educators and developers will find the section on transformative learning in practice presents a useful summary of the core elements required for transformations to take place, with examples of the types of learning and teaching activities that may be appropriate. Chapter 3 presents an abridged history of psychology in the context of change-oriented learning, situating the work of Freud, Piaget, Vygotsky, Rogers and Freire on a timeline leading to contemporary thinkers such as Illeris and Mark Tennant, whose work is recommended to the reader as a companion text. Chapter 4 outlines the different ways in which the self may be developed in the context of societal changes, and Part 1 concludes with Illeris’ own definition of transformative learning as implying change in the identity of the learner.

Those already cognisant of the concept of transformative learning may decide to skip to Part 2, which presents a detailed examination of the concept of identity and its place as the ‘home’ of transformative learning. In this section Illeris again turns to historical analysis, exploring the development of the interrelationships between the individual, the social and the societal from Erikson’s seminal works through to the present day. The role of emotion in learning is a continuous theme throughout the book, and the section on Erikson’s own life story serves as a reminder of the highly personal nature of this field of study. Given this introduction, it is difficult for the reader to interpret the following chapters without reference to their own life narrative, and many will find this process enlightening; perhaps therapeutic. Chapters 7 and 8 make connections between the psychological and sociological approaches to identity (academic developers will be interested to note the links to Wenger’s work on identity and communities of practice), finishing with a note on recent developments in social media and their extensive consequences for the conditions of identity development. While those who use social media will have already made these connections it is worth mentioning this particular elephant in the room, although in doing so Illeris seems to realise he runs the risk of the text becoming dated. The middle section concludes by extending historical perspectives on identity into Illeris’ own structural model.

The third and final section comprise six further chapters that relate the concepts and models from Parts 1 and 2 to the practical matters of learning and personal development, including an exploration of the possibilities of transformation at the various stages of life and in formal schooling and work, regressive and collective transformations, identity defence, and a comparison of the approaches to personality and competence development. While it is clear that the latter section is both pertinent and carefully considered, readers may be disheartened by the somewhat fatalistic note on which Chapter 13 ends. The concept of competency is deconstructed to a point where it holds little meaning, and perhaps rightly so, but if there is a more positive conclusion implied in Illeris’ argument it could do with being made explicit, and the section lacks reference to earlier work in this area (e.g. Dreyfus 1980).

In the final chapter Illeris reprises his favoured chronological mode of explanation, combining a precis of social history with a summary of synchronous developments in the dominant thinking on identity and learning. This parallel presentation not only succeeds in summarising the various connections between transformative learning and identity, but also in superimposing scholarly developments with societal change.

In Transformative Learning and Identity, Illeris does not claim to have produced a practical guide for teachers, but to have given an historically-informed insight into how the most rewarding learning processes take place in today’s fluid world. Early-career academics – and others born into Bauman’s ‘liquid modernity’ – may find its professional relevance extends into the personal realm. The succinct history of psychology and theories of identity in the first two sections alone, particularly in the absence of a thorough grounding in these fields of study, would justify a place for this book on the shelves of those who work in adult and teacher education.

Reference

Dreyfus, S. E, & Dreyfus, H, L. (1980). A Five-Stage Model of the Mental Activities Involved in Directed Skill Acquisition. Operations Research Centre, University of California Berkeley.

Lindsay Jordan
Centre for Learning & Teaching in Art & Design, University of the Arts London, UK
E-mail: lindsay.jordan@arts.ac.uk
© 2014, Lindsay Jordan

Hmm yes… I feel like I’ve finally had my fill of deconstructing book reviews! Just need to pull all this analysis together and then it’s time to try my hand at my own…

This last one is from the March 2012 issue of IJAD – it is Jean Rath’s review of Learning in the global classroom: a guide for students in the multicultural university, written in 2011 by Carol Dalglish, Peter Evans and Lynda Lawson.

P1: Sentence expanding upon and contextualising the title of the book. Brief outline of content, form and purpose: ‘provides…illustrative quotes from students to provide a sense of the lived classroom experience’.

P2: Describes the intended (student) audience. Casts gentle doubt on the authors’ claim of the book’s utility for educators, mitigated through hedging and abstraction; ‘it is likely that…educators would wish to engage critically with…more disciplinary specific pedagogies’.

NB this is the only time the authors are referred to directly in this piece – elsewhere the grammatical subject is always ‘the book/text/chapter’. This may be a device to depersonalise the criticism in the review.

P3: States number of chapters, lists the foci of the first four chapters without comment, and concludes by suggesting how developers might use these early chapters. There is a sense that the writer is clutching at straws to find practical utility for the academic developer, but if the limited praise is intended to mitigate criticism then it is very subtle.

P4: Summarises – very briefly – chapters 4 to 8. Acknowledges the relevance and utility of the cited references, which may also be an example of limited praise, particularly given the concluding comment, which suggests a lack of congruence between the nature of these references and the book’s intended audience.

P5: Summarises chapters 9 & 10. The statement that ‘it is probably not the place of such a book to deconstruct the unstable monolith [of] ‘Western thought’’ may initially be interpreted as a comment on the book’s delusions of grandeur, but is subsequently revealed as a device to mitigate the criticism that follows, in acknowledging the scope and boundaries of the text. However, it is possible that it is intended as both.

P6: Summarises final two chapters, praising the clarity of the section on plagiarism and noting the superficiality of the final chapter; here, as in the previous paragraph, the criticism is also mitigated by acknowledgement of the scope and boundaries of the work.

P7: Notes the significant contribution of authors’ previous work. There is the hint of an accusation here that content has been inadequately repurposed, and that the language of the core text is too complex for the intended student audience. This criticism is paired with a positive note on the relative (although still limited) accessibility of the accompanying activities and resources.

P8: In noting the occurrence of bias towards the business classroom, the writer strengthens the accusatory implication of the previous paragraph. In following a comment on its lack of relevance for laboratory work, the recommendation of the book for students in the social sciences and humanities is an example of limited praise.

P9: Reiterates the aim of the book without acknowledging that this aim has been met – an example of criticism by omission? Underlines the book’s limited utility for the academic developer, suggesting its primary use may be in seeing the kind of material our students might be reading – which is slight praise indeed. Concludes – somewhat controversially – with a praise-criticism pair and a final negative comment on the neglect of disciplinary nuance that is only marginally (‘many academic developers…’) mitigated through abstraction. Hedging is noticeably absent.

Here is a second analysis of a book review from the International Journal of Academic Development. This time the reviewer is Erika Kustra, writing in 2013 about Tony Harland’s ‘University Teaching: an introductory guide’ (2012).

P1: Opening sentence comments favourably on experience of author and specifies audience of book:  ‘Harland has summarised over 15 years’ experience…in this introductory book for new academics’. Comments on key strength of book (acknowledgement of full academic role and need to balance competing demands).

P2: Comment on originality of chapter topics with examples. Praise implied through adjectives e.g. ‘fresh’, ‘thought-provoking’. Description of general structure of chapters.

P3: A somewhat self-serving paragraph about Chapter 1 that refers to the writer’s own work on the scholarship of teaching and learning (SoTL). The argument lacks clarity; it is not always obvious whether Kustra is referring to Harland’s book, her own work or the concept of SoTL in general. Grammatical errors aggravate the ambiguity. Kustra has suspended the review in order to put forth her own thoughts about SoTL; being more explicit about this move – perhaps utilising metadiscourse – may have made for a stronger argument.

P4: Summarises main point of second chapter and offers fairly bland praise: ‘nicely extends and complements…helpful, concise…’ Here Kustra again appears to step out of the review to suggest further reading on the topic. A hint that other texts are of greater practical use (‘[they] go into more detail for actually engaging in effective partnerships’) is the only criticism evident here.

P5: Summarises third and fourth chapters. Purely descriptive save two praise adjectives: ‘useful’, ‘simple’. There is yet another discernable change in Kustra’s authorial position – and hence the flow of the review – as she suggests that the author would do well to expand the topic with the full research evidence in a separate article.

P6: Summarises fifth and sixth chapters. Purely descriptive until the final comment on the value of the student quotes.

P7: Comments on seventh and eighth chapters. The purpose of the sentence about New Zealand is not clear; Kustra may be either summarising Harland’s argument, or highlighting a case where it does not apply. Kustra criticises Harland for presenting arguments that are not backed up with hard evidence of ‘actual improved learning’ (good luck with that one), and suggests that career advice from successful academics would be a valuable addition.

P8: Summarises the penultimate chapter, implying value through emphasising its singularity. Moves into the first person (‘for me, as a reader, I…’) to express confusion around the organisation of the chapters, then into the abstract (‘however, most academics would…’) to acknowledge the general value of the topics. The grammatical subject then switches on to Harland, and finally to the features of the book (concepts, perspectives) as Kustra points out where additional connections could have been made.

P9: Reiteration of praise re: originality of the topics. Clear designation of the self indicates strong praise for the content on teaching as inquiry (‘I particularly enjoyed…’), then a praise-criticism pair is abstracted to two contrasting audiences (‘[appealing] for busy readers…but others may find…’). The mitigated (through abstraction) criticism of the lack of practical advice leads to a concluding recommendation that the book be used as a trigger for discussion in groups.

…I thought I might as well analyse a second book review… no point in rushing my own… haha…

This is a breakdown of a review from my chosen journal – the International Journal of Academic Development. The reviewer is Dorothy Spiller (writing in 2013), and the book is ‘Teaching with Emotional Intelligence: a step-by-step guide for higher and further education professionals (2nd ed)’, by Alan Mortiboys (2012).

P1: Holistic comment on value and audience of book. Sentence summarising aim of book and how this is achieved. Description of the structure of book and the standard format that all chapters follow. Examples of topics covered in chapters. Exceptions to standard chapter format (first chapter and final three, new to this edition).

P2: Comment on how author has balanced theoretical principles and practical focus, incorporating limited praise: ‘For the most part, Mortiboys manages to keep the balance…’

P3: Comment on value and limitations of book, incorporating limited praise: ‘it is as a practical handbook that [this book] works best… the practical imperatives mean there is little opportunity to explore the underlying theories…’ and praise-criticism pairs within metadiscourse: ‘this is the flip side of Mortiboys’ succinct citing… it may lead to a somewhat formulaic uptake of ideas and behaviours’.

P4: Further development of the central argument as above; that the book should be used as a basis for discussion, where its various caveats and provisos can be explored.

P5: Comment on novelty using praise-criticism pairs: ‘what Mortiboys offers is not new’… ‘[his] chapters on teacher self-awareness provide very detailed and thoughtful tools for self-reflection’.

P6: Focused criticism of final chapters, concluding with praise-criticism pair: ‘while the three chapters illuminate important areas, they sit rather uneasily in the book as a whole.’ 

P7: Positive final message recommending book to developers and teachers and outlining its key strengths, referencing their pertinence in the present day. Reiteration of recommendation on use from P4.

In preparation for writing my own book review for the WrAP 1 unit, I’ve analysed the moves in a review of a book I am already familiar with. The following is a breakdown of Robert Farrow’s (2013) review of Martin Weller’s ‘The Digital Scholar: How Technology is Transforming Scholarly Practice’ (NB Martin’s book is available online free of charge). I have also noted the discourse reporting verbs (DRVs) used in each section:

P1: Short sentence summarising aim of book. Statement on how author’s reputation/experience qualifies them to comment on these phenomena at this time.

P2: Author’s definition of topic/scope. Why this topic is interesting/pertinent at this time.

P3: Summary of author’s central argument(s), leading into limited praise: ‘Weller makes a fairly convincing case…’ [DRVs: argues, connects, argues] and mitigated (hedging) criticism: ‘Perhaps less convincingly…’ [DRVs: wants, writes]

P4: Summary of book structure: common thread, outline of first three sections, comment on particular value of final section: ‘The final two chapters are more reflective…’, ‘the re-appropriation of Boyer… provides the core of Weller’s contribution’ (perhaps an example of limited praise?).

P5: Summary of specific chapter/section [DRVs: finds, suggests].

P6: Summary of specific chapter/section [DRV: argues]. Mitigated criticism (praise-criticism pair?): ‘Aside from X, the connection between Y and Z is not explored in detail.’

P7: Summary of specific chapter/section [DRVs: construes, respects, contends]. Direct quote (praise – agreement with author?)

P8: Summary of final section: Praises relevance: ‘of interest to the widest audience.’ [DRVs: argues, ‘puts it’, considers, stops short]. Direct quote (praise – agreement with author?). Hint at shortcoming?: ‘A number of different… although Weller stops short of endorsing any one in particular’.

P9: Longer paragraph of holistic comment, utilising the following evaluative moves:

1.  Praise-criticism pairs/strings:
   • idiosyncratic v. portrait of a particular kind of digital scholar
   • Useful record of technologies used v. unclear how others might follow v. book not presented as a plan for others to follow v. more succinct guidance may be welcome.
2. Abstracting criticism to a general audience:
   • ‘for readers who are lacking confidence or don’t know where to begin with social networks or microblogging…’
   • ‘more casual readers might have preferred to have this presented as a clear and distinct section of the text…’
3. Hedging:
   • ‘this is perhaps to underplay the importance of institutional affiliation’
   • ‘The book might…have concluded with a clearer summary of Weller’s position or tips for engaging with open, digital scholarship’

P10: Acknowledges author’s position and mitigates earlier criticism further through rationalising the author’s approach:

“Some idiosyncrasies may be in some part related to the fact that the book was written through Weller’s blog (http://nogoodreason.typepad.co.uk/) and therefore connected to a particular set of Web 2.0 networks and associated communities (2). The process of composition reflects the fact that Weller’s commitment to digital scholarship is more than just theoretical…”

P11: Focused criticism of polarisation of content, giving several examples of potential downsides of the open, networked approach to scholarship which the reviewer implies have been underexplored.

P12: Mitigation of the above criticism by underplaying its significance:

• ‘None of this really undermines Weller’s basic contentions…’
• ‘Weller never glosses over difficult questions…’

P13: Positive final message outlining key strengths of book.
Conclusion with direct quote implies allegiance with the author.

Hyland, K. (2000) Praise and criticism: interactions in book reviews. In Disciplinary Discourses. University of Michigan Press.

I enjoyed this… Like all Hyland’s work it is accessibly written so one can motor through the non-essential bits without losing the thread. There are some absolute gems in here that made me laugh out loud – particularly in the section on mitigation of criticism. Recommending a book as ‘an interesting [one] to borrow from the library shelf’ is a subtle sting indeed, and I sincerely hope I never write a book that induces a reviewer to conclude with a compliment on its physical appearance.

As I prepare to write my own book review (having not quite finished the book yet… eeek), I focused my attention on what was immediately relevant to me in as a potential reviewer in the field of humanities and social science. I am also planning to examine closely two book reviews – one from my chosen journal (IJAD) and Robert Farrow’s 2013 review of Martin Weller’s The Digital Scholar.

I have synthesised from Hyland’s chapter the following typical structure and components of book reviews:

1. Describe reputation/experience of the author, observing their authority and appropriate placement in the field.
2. Summarise and comment on general aspects of content (coverage and approach) in a neutral or positive light.
3. Comment on specific aspects of content (argument, insight), balancing praise and criticism.
4. Further comment on some or all of the following as relevant:
   • style (clarity, organisation, readability)
   • readership (value, relevance)
   • text (extent, currency of references, quality of diagrams)
   • author (their experience, reputation)
   • publishing (price, quality, production standards)
5. Positive finish – to re-establish the reviewer’s credentials as an honest and reasonable scholar – in soft disciplines this tends to refer to general content rather than the book’s value for readers.

The Farrow (2013) review I looked at definitely seemed to follow this model; I will write more about that in my next post.

Aside from the obvious interpersonal implications, I thought the point about the genre being ‘parasitic on the one it critiques’ (p44) was of particular note. ‘Parasitic’ is a strong word, and to me there seems to be a contradiction between this notion of a book review as offering ‘no fresh evidence to the community’, and its purpose as outlined on p48 as providing ‘an overview of the text for prospective readers while raising particular problematic issues for the field’. However, Hyland points out that the general pattern of global praise and specific criticism in book reviews serves both the evaluative role of the genre and the interpersonal one.

I skimmed over the section in this chapter that discussed the criticism of stylistic blemishes and poor writing, as I can’t see myself reading enough of a poorly-written book to be able to write a review of it. In fact, I think that would require a rather dubious kind of motivation, as hinted at in the Crowley example on p54-55. I really wanted to read the rest of that review – it looked entertaining – but as it was taken from outside the research corpus the full reference wasn’t listed (I presume it wasn’t from a review of one of Hyland’s own books?!).

To conclude – here are the results of Hyland’s analysis of the mitigation of criticism:

Techniques for mitigating criticism:

1. Praise-criticism pairing
2. Hedging
3. Labelling as personal opinion of ‘ordinary reader’ (N.B. designating oneself as the source of praise works in the opposite way – i.e. it marks certainty)
4. Abstracting criticism to general audience or third party
5. Metadiscourse (about the review itself – e.g. ‘to get gripes out of the way first…’)
6. Limited praise – inferring through omission

Hyland, K. (1999) Academic Attribution: Citation and the Construction of Disciplinary Knowledge. Applied Linguistics 20 (3), pp341 – 367

Wow. Ken Hyland has written so much stuff about writing about stuff. And now I’m going to write about Ken Hyland’s writings about writing. Again. In a minute.

my eyes look like this

It’s taken a while to get down to this because I’ve just had laser eye surgery. Not only has this meant I haven’t been able to stare at a screen or book for long, but I’ve also been also been regularly drawn into paranoid web searches about halos, haze, ‘floaters’ and other symptoms, and/or compelled to run outside and compare the clarity of number plates with my right and left eyes. On top of this, I’ve also this week been diagnosed with degenerative arthritis of the spine, which I’m quite bummed out about as it means I have to give up running – my grand passion – and can’t sit still for long. So, on the whole… hard to concentrate on anything much.

But… I’ve got a book review to write in the next week so I need to get cracking with the WrAP reading. The good news is I’m not too far off actually finishing the sodding book, and it’s really been rather good. One of those books that is relevant to virtually every conversation you find yourself in.

According to Ken (we *must* be on first name terms by now), “academics generally tend to see research and rhetorical activity as separate” (p343). He doesn’t actually support this claim with a citation, so it’s not clear where it comes from. Clearly *he* doesn’t see it as separate. Neither do I. All my scholarly activity to date has mostly been just me writing about stuff I’ve done. But this made me consider whether it would be possible to contract out this rather tedious and difficult aspect of research. Some of the large-scale, cross-institutional work I’ve been involved in – particularly with the JISC Developing Digital Literacies project – has utilised ‘synthesis consultants’ whose job it is to draw together and present the outcomes of a programme of work into a final report. JISC work is often led by e-learning developers and managers rather than those who would identify themselves as ‘researchers’ or ‘academics’, and it is presumably a more efficient way of drawing together outcomes from a programme of separate projects. However, the projects *are* very much separate, and those who lead them have certain beliefs and attitudes to their peers in the community and their ideas; beliefs and attitudes that form the context of and the motivation for the work they do. This is unlikely to be fully articulated if the work is written up by an external consultant.

How – and to what extent – are these beliefs and attitudes communicated through citation? In this paper, Hyland compares the use of citation in the ‘hard’ and ‘soft’ disciplines, and finds both clear, general differences and interesting exceptions and outliers.

There are two key purposes to citation – one is to support or justify the claims being made (e.g. through contextualising the issue, establishing credibility and/or showing allegiance), and the other is to demonstrate the novelty of one’s position. These two may sound like they directly oppose each other, but they need to occur in tandem. For research to be valued in any disciplinary community, it needs to appear both novel and sound.

However, novelty and soundness mean slightly different things in the hard and soft disciplines, which means that citation plays a different role in each. Let’s take the ‘hard’ disciplines first. The general view in the hard disciplines is that knowledge is there to be discovered. It may not be possible to ever know the absolute truth, but the truth is ‘out there’ and it is the researcher’s job to try to get closer to it through appropriate and rigorous enquiry. Gilbert (1976, p285) describes the author in this context as a ‘messenger relaying the truth from nature’. As a result, procedures and methods may be privileged over the author, and external citation structures (i.e. separated from the claim by brackets or footnotes) are commonplace. As the primary purpose of citation in hard disciplines is to support the specific findings of the writer, paraphrasing is the norm over direct quotation in order to frame the argument in the specific context of the study in question.

As with anything, there are notable exceptions. Hyland draws on the example of molecular biology and the ‘colourful’ characters of James Watson and Francis Crick. Apparently, in a Channel 4 documentary in 2003, Watson said: “People say it would be terrible if we made all girls pretty. I think it would be great.” Now, Watson actually said this to me in 1996 at the University of Portsmouth, in response to a question I asked him about genetic modification. I thought it was a bit edgy at the time (although my 16-year-old self would have been massively appreciative of some pretty genes). Genetics is a subject that ignites strong emotions and raises moral dilemmas; it has an inextricable relationship with philosophy, theology and the softer of disciplines. Biologists like James Watson and Richard Dawkins have built their careers on deliberate provocation, arrogance and the breaking of ice on the biggest questions of our time. So it is no wonder that their disciplines do not follow all the standard patterns of citation.

A final point to note with the hard disciplines is that, as time passes, the evidence for certain phenomena may become irrefutable, for example in the case of Einstein’s Theory of Relativity and Planck’s constant. At this point acknowledgement through citation will often cease. The theory has become accepted by and embedded into the discipline.

In contrast to this, in the softer disciplines – especially philosophy – nothing is ever considered proven. Steps are continually being retraced and even the criteria for establishing or refuting claims remains inconsistent. The author is often privileged and represented with a stance of their own through the use of internal citation structures and a range of reporting verbs (e.g. concedes, proposes, asserts) that communicate the strength of the author’s claim and/or the degree of the writer’s agreement with it. Tenses may also be used as a rhetorical device; as one moves from present simple (proposes) to present perfect (has proposed) to past tense (proposed), a greater distance is implied between the original author and the writer.

Hyland’s discussion of reporting verbs reminded me of my stint as a resident tutor at the University of Bath, where we were often required to document incidents and altercations involving our 18-year-old charges. All the tutors were doing MAs or PhDs, and it was always easy to identify who had written the reports from the previous day simply from the verbs they (over)used – everyone had their favourite! One – a German microbiologist – stuck to  ‘alleged’. For another (psychologist, British) it was ‘reported’. The mathematician simply wrote ‘said’. It occurred to me how much more subtly nuanced we could have made our incident reports had we given it due consideration…

Leitch, R. (2006) Outside the Spoon Drawer, Naked and Skinless in Search of My Professional Esteem. Qualitative Enquiry 12 (2), pp1-12

Drake, P. (2010) Grasping at methodological understanding: a cautionary tale from insider research. International Journal of Research and Method in Education 33 (1), pp85-99

a can of worms

For the Writing for Academic Practice unit we were asked to look briefly at Ruth Leitch’s autobiographical/ethnographic account of the EdD doctoral experience and compare it with the article by Pat Drake.

They are very different articles; for sure, they are both broadly about the doctoral experience, but while Drake reflects on her methods and outcomes, Leitch focuses purely on herself to the extent that the reader is left in the dark about the actual subject of her doctoral thesis. Drake focuses on one aspect of the doctoral journey whereas Leitch places the journey in the context of her entire autobiography. The honesty of Leitch’s piece is almost surreal when read alongside other items on the EdD reading lists, and by no means was it a comfortable read. At times I felt that the level of self-exposure in the autoethnography was almost exploitative; that in putting pen to paper Leitch had exploited herself (another interpretation of the phrase ‘academic prostitute’?). However, I also have a great deal of admiration for her openness; for taking a risk and going against the grain. Personally I feel that there are few worse things to be than boring.

I’m not sure the Leitch piece told me anything new. I imagine very few people would read this without seeing some aspect of themselves, or an experience of their own mirrored back at them. But perhaps this is its strength – it is rare that an academic paper gives us this perspective on ourselves. Is it practically useful? Perhaps… in exposing the resident elephants, letting us know that we are not alone in having such hang-ups, and throwing the emotions of our own students into sharp relief.

The Drake piece, in contrast, balanced personal narrative with interview data and citations from a range of relevant literature. I felt that there was more in it that was new to me, and more in terms of practical learning points too; I thought the observation that ‘very few people follow instructions in a conversational setting’ was particularly expressive (and concise).

It was suggested that we consider the ‘moves’ of the introductions of the two pieces; interestingly I felt that these were similarly structured, with Introduction, Purpose and Conclusions stated clearly, and the central section in each introduction focusing on the Product(s). In either case there is a lack of emphasis on Method as both these pieces are ‘spin-offs’ from the doctoral thesis; Drake speaks of ‘considering the examples’ while Leitch presents ‘a process of writing that explore emotional resistance’.

It was also suggested that we consider the ‘possible standards of acceptability’ in these two academic journals – Qualitative Enquiry and the International Journal of Research and Method in Education.

Both focus on methodological issues raised by research, although with IJRME this focus does not appear to exclude the content or results of research. Qualitative Enquiry – according to the journal website – actively courts ‘articles that experiment with manuscript form and content’, while IJRME encourages authors to ‘write in a lucid and accessible style’ and communicate to an ‘international readership of researchers, policy-makers and practitioners’. This suggests (to me) that IJRME, despite encouraging ‘dissent from the orthodox’ in the research it publishes, is after a more broadly accepted academic writing style. The take-home message is clear – the publicised ‘aims and scope’ of the journal need to be interpreted along with an overview of what has actually been published in it 😉

Groom, N. (2005) Pattern and meaning across genres and disciplines: An exploratory study. Journal of English for Academic Purposes; 4, pp257-277

Wow. A bit dry, this one…!!

I can see why it was suggested we read it at this point in the WrAP unit when we are putting together a book review for our portfolios, as it compares the dominant phraseology of book reviews with that of research articles, and also reviews and articles from two different humanities genres.

It actually feels quite surreal to be analysing language in this way; making so explicit something that was – for me at least – tacit and taken for granted. Reading this paper, I felt like I had stepped into another world (I almost want to say ‘one where nothing exciting would ever happen again’ but that would be rude… and I did feel a tiny stir of interest at least twice).

The study being presented here looked at one type of clause – the ‘introductory it’ clause – which serves a number of purposes in academic writing:

• It gives ‘end focus’ and ‘end weight’ – following the preference in English to save the important bit for last.
• It is evaluative – it evaluates what follows*.
• The use of ‘it’ as the subject disguises the personal or subjective nature of the claim.

*in terms of adequacy, desirability, difficulty, expectation, importance or validity

Introductory ‘it’ clauses ending in ‘that’ and ‘to (infinitive)’ were compared:

A) It (is/would be/seems) (adj) that
B) It (is/would be/seems) (adj) to (inf)

Groom points out that (A) tends to evaluate the validity of propositions and is therefore more dominant in research articles, while (B) tends to evaluate difficulty, importance or desirability of processes (and therefore the agents of these processes), and is therefore more prevalent in reviews where the knowledge claims of others are being evaluated.

Rather than regurgitating every single difference Nicholas Groom points out, here are a few that might be of practical use when I finally get around to starting this book review (did I mention I have to read a book first?).

Evaluation of difficulty was surprisingly dominant in book reviews and the analysis of these showed such clauses were commonly used as a device to communicate constructive or reluctant criticism, praise and empathy, For example:

• It is hard to fault…
• It is easy to imagine…
• It is difficult to do justice to…

These phrases often bridge the third (detailed critique) and fourth (positive closing comments) moves of book reviews as described by Hyland (2000) and Motta Roth (1995) – I suspect I’ll get more familiar with these four moves in the next Hyland chapter we’ve been given.

I want to say at this point that it occurred to me that these clauses are designed to communicate just as much about the reviewer as they do about the book in question (and its author). In all these clauses the scholarship of the reviewer is – surreptitiously? – on display.

The three examples above – and particularly those Groom picks out of the ‘would be’ type, e.g.

• It would be unfair to argue that…
• It would be helpful to…

all follow a pattern where a negative adjective (e.g. unfair, hard) is used in a positive evaluation, or a positive adjective (e.g. easy, helpful) is used to make a negative evaluation. This seems to be another linguistic device that helps to mitigate criticism, moderate praise and communicate empathy with the author of the book – all very important in showing the academic community that you are in a position to critique and be reserved in your praise, and that your academic status is on a par with the author.

One final, short example that Groom mentions earlier in the paper is the subtle difference between ‘it is interesting that’ and ‘it is interesting to note that’. In the former (assuming the context of a book review), the implication is that the interesting thing is in the book, while the latter implies it is the reviewer who is being interesting.

So… a mouthful of sawdust, but a few little tips for the task ahead.

Secondary references:
Motta-Roth, D. (1995) Rhetorical Features and Disciplinary Cultures: A Genre-based Study of Academic Book Reviews in Linguistics, Chemistry and Economics. PhD dissertation.

Hyland, K. (2000). Disciplinary Discourses. Social Interactions in Academic Writing. Harlow: Pearson Education.