My favorite bit of this week's reading came toward the end of Chapter Four when Davidson is pointing out the emotional attachment that many early American readers had for the novels that they were reading, "In short, people then as now read themselves into their fictions and their fictions into their lives" (142).
Because I study fan culture, this was particularly interesting to me as it related to the ways that fans are perceived today, and some of the similarities between early novel readers and avid film and television audiences. Too often, I worry that academics underestimate the emotional power of fiction, and I was pleased to see Davidson make mention of what sound very much like novel fanatics on pg. 142:
"What do we make, for example, of the dozens, perhaps hundreds, of young men who leapt off bridges or put a pistol to their foreheads with a copy of Werther in their breast pockets? Surely theirs was an intensive reading. Or of the young women who made a grave in New York City for poor Charlotte Temple; who, for two generations, left wreaths, locks of hair, and mementos of lost loves upon that grave; and who, when they discovered that Charlotte was not a 'real' person but merely a fictional creation, felt utterly betrayed and enraged, for they had--they said--lost a friend."
What's even more interesting about this example is that it comes as a defense against the accusation that reading more books indicated "an increasingly passive form of consumption or comprehension" (141). I was glad to see Davidson defend the novel in this regard, because one of my biggest issues with intellectual big wigs is their inability to acknowledge a value in "low" literature, and the immediate need to disregard works of fiction that do not live up to some imagined literary standard. In Chapter Three, Davidson notes that "social authorities would not have feared the effects of merely escapist literature"-- a comment that I appreciate as someone who feels that the word 'escapist' may be a bit overused by academics.
After all, how do we determine what is "escapist"? How do we determine how a story really spoke to a person? Davidson recognizes that although the availability of books increased in this time period, and people became more "extensive" readers, "even the 'extensive' reading of this fiction could be emotionally intense, psychically fulfilling, imaginatively active, socially liberalizing, and educationally progressive-- quite the opposite of the merely consumptive, passive, repetitive act posited by the Leserevolution model" (142)
Friday, September 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Revolution and the Word: Chapters 1 & 2
"Of approximately sixty-five American novelists who published before 1820, less than a third were named on the title pages of their books; slightly over a third appeared either anonymously or pseudonymously but are known today (often because the veil of anonymity was only tenuously employed, with the author's actual name revealed in the advertisements for the specific book or in a subsequent publication by the same individual-- as was the case for Brockden Brown, Susanna Rowson, and Royall Tyler). The remaining authors (and the largest single group) were and remain anonymous." (92)
Okay, so I get that at the time, novel writing was considered especially racy and improper, but I still have such a hard time with this aspect of early American literature. I just don't get it. It's one thing to accept that the novel is subversive and racy, but it seems completely ridiculous that someone would write & publish a novel, which was unlikely to produce any amount of money, without attaching some kind of ownership to the work. I mean, it is work, and I can't imagine that novel writing was an incredibly leisurely activity-- I mean physically as well as emotionally --especially when it's considered to be so absolutely deviant.
And here's the other thing-- so say you have written a novel in 1790, and you're worried that your reputation will forever be marred by this atrocious activity. My question to YOU, Mr. 1790, is what exactly did everyone think you were up to when you were holed up writing this novel? I mean, seriously? How conspicuous could you possibly be? Wouldn't the people in your life, your immediate family and close friends-- wouldn't they notice that you were spending an awful lot of time with, I dunno, your quill?
What's even more baffling about this very different conception of authorship is the bizarre way that it devalues the time and effort of the writer/author. Davidson describes the role of the printer in the publication process, noting that "sometimes advertisements for books even emphasized the printer's art more than the writer's", explaining how the aesthetic appeal of the physical book was noted in advertisements (79). It seems strange that this work would be acknowledged and somewhat glorified, where the author of the text, without whom there was no novel, was more often than not never even acknowledged for their contribution to the product as it appeared in book form.
Okay, so I get that at the time, novel writing was considered especially racy and improper, but I still have such a hard time with this aspect of early American literature. I just don't get it. It's one thing to accept that the novel is subversive and racy, but it seems completely ridiculous that someone would write & publish a novel, which was unlikely to produce any amount of money, without attaching some kind of ownership to the work. I mean, it is work, and I can't imagine that novel writing was an incredibly leisurely activity-- I mean physically as well as emotionally --especially when it's considered to be so absolutely deviant.
And here's the other thing-- so say you have written a novel in 1790, and you're worried that your reputation will forever be marred by this atrocious activity. My question to YOU, Mr. 1790, is what exactly did everyone think you were up to when you were holed up writing this novel? I mean, seriously? How conspicuous could you possibly be? Wouldn't the people in your life, your immediate family and close friends-- wouldn't they notice that you were spending an awful lot of time with, I dunno, your quill?
What's even more baffling about this very different conception of authorship is the bizarre way that it devalues the time and effort of the writer/author. Davidson describes the role of the printer in the publication process, noting that "sometimes advertisements for books even emphasized the printer's art more than the writer's", explaining how the aesthetic appeal of the physical book was noted in advertisements (79). It seems strange that this work would be acknowledged and somewhat glorified, where the author of the text, without whom there was no novel, was more often than not never even acknowledged for their contribution to the product as it appeared in book form.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Revolution and the Word: Introduction
Perhaps unsurprisingly, my favorite bit of Davidson's introduction was her concern with those things that tend to get brushed under the rug in historical accounts, and I loved the example of David McCullough's John Adams.
I should probably start by saying that I haven't actually read John Adams, or seen the HBO miniseries, but I was excited to see a connection between current media representations of early American history, and the texts that claim to provide exhaustive accounts. There is a missing piece of every story, and I think that an important point that Davidson is making here is that it isn't only media representations that twist the facts. Ever mindful of my very limited knowledge of American history, I did start to notice as we read Starr that some of these great American "characters" (Adams, Jefferson, Washington, etc), seemed to have more controversial and conflicting ideas about the way the fledgling country should be managed, and Davidson makes this point all the more clear. Although I didn't watch John Adams myself, I know many people who did, and who lauded it for its authenticity (and c'mon, Paul Giamatti was in it, it's gotta be good) -- which is sort of scary, no? It reminds me of The Patriot or the story of Pocahontas, which we as academics find eye-rollingly inaccurate, but while we cringe we have got to remember that our own history books are altering facts in similar ways, and we should be mindful that we're rarely seeing all sides of anything.
Davidson immediately moves from her John Adams example to describe another problem close to my heart, and one that had me highlighting basically all of page 18:
"Nationalist history casts disagreement as 'anti-American'--as dissent from an assumed, if unarticulated, consensus rather than as an invaluable contribution to a process that is innately and definitionally 'democratic'" (18).
Yep, this bit struck a chord.
And, in fact, I'm having a hard time clearly explaining what that chord is. To simplify the matter probably entirely too much, I could say that reading a text that acknowledges the troubled position of someone who expresses a dissatisfaction with this country is reassuring, because it indicates that the counter-opinion will be investigated along with the popular historical myth of America. I've tried to keep my List of Things I Loathe to only the bare essentials, and calling someone "anti-American" if they voice any opinion contrary to the "American way" is close to the top of that list.
And isn't it a bummer that this passage rings so very true?:
"In considering the rich body of theory and history on nation building, it becomes clear that one of the defining features of Americans is the ease with which we pronounce other citizens "un-American" or "anti-American" for relatively mild protests against the status quo" (18).
So yeah. Not cool, guys.
Honestly, I could go on and on about this for ages and ages and I couldn't do it nearly as effectively as Davidson on pg. 18. The fact that other countries don't seem to share this problem ("The most vituperative British member of Parliament, railing against the prime minister, is still British, maybe even definitively so because of the railing. He or she would rarely be called "un-British" or "anti-British'.") only really makes it more interesting. That Davidson points this out and points it out well, only makes me more anxious to read what else she has to say. I mean, the lady clearly has a point.
Monday, September 12, 2011
creation of the media: pgs. 113-150
This week's reading was of particular interest to me, as copyright laws and sensationalism tend to pop up in just about every research interest I have. Currently, I'm in the middle of work on my thesis, which deals with intellectual property and copyright as it relates to derivative texts (ie: fanfiction)-- so seeing where some of these conversations began was helpful in my thinking. I was particularly interested in the comment on pg. 121 about derivative works and abridgments:
"In Wheaton and other cases, the courts were skeptical of claims of copyright infringement by derivative works, such as abridgments. According to an 1853 decision, a translation of a work did not infringe on the copyright of the original and an author had no property right in a book's fictional characters." (121)
My, how things have changed! This passage stuck out to me because it serves as a nod to the shift in the general perception of intellectual property that has occurred over time. In many of the texts I've been reading on fan culture, it is pointed out that the ownership of a text or its characters is a relatively recent development, and prior to copyright laws such as these, people would add to existing stories and borrow characters without a second thought as to who "owned" them. It was interesting to see the regulations clarified and the steps it took to get to our current idea of ownership today.
I also found the development of the gossipy, sensationalist press to be fascinating. It was no surprise, really, that Americans were into murder and scandalous details, but it was interesting to see how the penny press adapted in format to suit its readership, and how the English and French press compared to the developments in American techniques.
I was also interested in the beginnings of advertising "plugs", as referenced on pg. 146: "In response to demands from advertisers, many nineteenth-century papers inserted paid 'reading notices' into their regular news columns and published 'puffs' for products (including laudatory book reviews for publishers)".
Finally, I just have to say that I'm somewhat glad we're moving away from Starr. While I really enjoyed the reading, I admittedly know very little about American history, and Starr's American exceptionalism was unsettling because I remained so unsure of what to take seriously, and what to chalk up to his bias. However, this has been a very good reminder to read with skepticism. :)
"In Wheaton and other cases, the courts were skeptical of claims of copyright infringement by derivative works, such as abridgments. According to an 1853 decision, a translation of a work did not infringe on the copyright of the original and an author had no property right in a book's fictional characters." (121)
My, how things have changed! This passage stuck out to me because it serves as a nod to the shift in the general perception of intellectual property that has occurred over time. In many of the texts I've been reading on fan culture, it is pointed out that the ownership of a text or its characters is a relatively recent development, and prior to copyright laws such as these, people would add to existing stories and borrow characters without a second thought as to who "owned" them. It was interesting to see the regulations clarified and the steps it took to get to our current idea of ownership today.
I also found the development of the gossipy, sensationalist press to be fascinating. It was no surprise, really, that Americans were into murder and scandalous details, but it was interesting to see how the penny press adapted in format to suit its readership, and how the English and French press compared to the developments in American techniques.
I was also interested in the beginnings of advertising "plugs", as referenced on pg. 146: "In response to demands from advertisers, many nineteenth-century papers inserted paid 'reading notices' into their regular news columns and published 'puffs' for products (including laudatory book reviews for publishers)".
Finally, I just have to say that I'm somewhat glad we're moving away from Starr. While I really enjoyed the reading, I admittedly know very little about American history, and Starr's American exceptionalism was unsettling because I remained so unsure of what to take seriously, and what to chalk up to his bias. However, this has been a very good reminder to read with skepticism. :)
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
creation of the media pg. 47-111 / "Moral & Useful"
Sometimes, when I'm reading for class I get a little into my note-taking. This began around the time that I realized that the running commentary in my head could be manipulated, and used for good, rather than for evil. Instead of trying to suppress my own silly questions and sarcastic remarks, I began to write them down along with more serious notes, and among quotations that I wanted to highlight.
In my notes for this week, I have a quote from pg.53 of Starr, "As a result of limited education for women and the denial of literacy to slaves, three out of four people in colonial Virginia were 'largely or entirely confined within the oral medium'." Just underneath this quote, I'd added "yikes, doesn't paint a very pretty picture of Virginia" and below that "sometimes I think it's amazing that we, as a human race, survived as long as we did without modern technology".
Reading back through my notes in preparation for this week's blog post, I rolled my eyes at my cheeky commentary, but also felt that it reflected much of what I'd highlighted as important (or at least interesting to me) in this week's readings. I suspect that some of my confusion may be related to the way Starr reflects on history, but I found myself highlighting passages where I felt a genuine sense of wonder at the sheer ingenuity of early Americans. I know, right? That's pretty sappy stuff. As amazed as I was by early decisions about freedom of press, I was wowed even more by the way education played out….it's a bit of a bizarre feeling, really.
So, apparently, one of the lessons I am learning quite poignantly, is that I don't know diddly squat about history. And I'm about to make a slightly awkward transition, because what I'm referring to currently is a lack of knowledge about general history….but next I want to talk about someone I was surprised I'd never heard of: Matthew Lyon!
Okay first of all, Starr's description of Lyon: "a member of Congress and former printer from Vermont, who had come to America as an indentured servant and risen to political success partly by means of the newspaper he published"(79). How have I never heard of this guy?! And then later on? "Lyon was reelected to Congress while he was still in jail" (80). This may be a silly thing to point out, but why hasn't Leonardo DiCaprio played this dude in a movie yet? (and don't even get me started on his Wikipedia page….) Leave it to me to pinpoint this very brief moment in Starr's reading to obsess over, but there you have it. A glimpse into my weird psyche.
Finally, I found Starr's mention of when the newspapers began to refer to the colonists as "Americans" very interesting. This brought up a range of questions about identity and nationality, but it also made me wonder about the evolution of American slang, and how important the media is in shaping and helping create and perpetuate these ideas.
As far as my archive search went, I found my article in The Boston Weekly Magazine, Devoted to Morality, Literature, Biography, History, the Fine Arts…..(I thought this specification was funny - okay! We get it! You're very classy, Boston Weekly)-- and the article appeared on June 30, 1804. This piece is a letter from a reader, supposedly, who is responding to the Boston Weekly's call for examples of exceptional women, and it is called "Moral and Useful: Miranda- A Character".
"I have been pleased to observe in your useful Miscellany, an endeavor to promote the intellectual improvement of the female sex, by setting before them examples of virtue, fortitude, piety, and every commendable pursuit: I wish to assist your laudable design, but sending the character of a lady with whom I have the happiness to be acquainted, which I hope you will permit to appear in your Magazine."
The letter goes on to describe Miranda, who is "endowed with all the graces that can excite admiration, all those virtues that can command respect". The letter-writer clarifies that Miranda is "pleasing, rather than beautiful" and spends an entire paragraph describing her musical skills, "which lead[s] one to prefer a simple air performed by her to the most brilliant execution of a finished amateur" (even though her voice is not strong). Most importantly, however, is the "high cultivation" of Miranda's mind. The writer highlights not only Miranda's "extensive reading and knowledge of the world", but also mentions that she is careful to "adapt her conversation to the taste and understanding of her companions". I found this to be the most interesting bit of this letter, because it acknowledges that along with great knowledge of the world, there also comes a great responsibility to not be a jerk about it to others. This seems somewhat surprising to note, particularly for a female intellectual.
However, although Miranda is very well read, she is also the perfect domestic partner, and performs her service to her family "without ever appearing hurried or in confusion". Hence, most likely, her usefulness. While I thought that this article was surprising in that it included education as a point of notability in female character, it did spent its majority depicting a more traditional female role.
In my notes for this week, I have a quote from pg.53 of Starr, "As a result of limited education for women and the denial of literacy to slaves, three out of four people in colonial Virginia were 'largely or entirely confined within the oral medium'." Just underneath this quote, I'd added "yikes, doesn't paint a very pretty picture of Virginia" and below that "sometimes I think it's amazing that we, as a human race, survived as long as we did without modern technology".
Reading back through my notes in preparation for this week's blog post, I rolled my eyes at my cheeky commentary, but also felt that it reflected much of what I'd highlighted as important (or at least interesting to me) in this week's readings. I suspect that some of my confusion may be related to the way Starr reflects on history, but I found myself highlighting passages where I felt a genuine sense of wonder at the sheer ingenuity of early Americans. I know, right? That's pretty sappy stuff. As amazed as I was by early decisions about freedom of press, I was wowed even more by the way education played out….it's a bit of a bizarre feeling, really.
So, apparently, one of the lessons I am learning quite poignantly, is that I don't know diddly squat about history. And I'm about to make a slightly awkward transition, because what I'm referring to currently is a lack of knowledge about general history….but next I want to talk about someone I was surprised I'd never heard of: Matthew Lyon!
Okay first of all, Starr's description of Lyon: "a member of Congress and former printer from Vermont, who had come to America as an indentured servant and risen to political success partly by means of the newspaper he published"(79). How have I never heard of this guy?! And then later on? "Lyon was reelected to Congress while he was still in jail" (80). This may be a silly thing to point out, but why hasn't Leonardo DiCaprio played this dude in a movie yet? (and don't even get me started on his Wikipedia page….) Leave it to me to pinpoint this very brief moment in Starr's reading to obsess over, but there you have it. A glimpse into my weird psyche.
Finally, I found Starr's mention of when the newspapers began to refer to the colonists as "Americans" very interesting. This brought up a range of questions about identity and nationality, but it also made me wonder about the evolution of American slang, and how important the media is in shaping and helping create and perpetuate these ideas.
As far as my archive search went, I found my article in The Boston Weekly Magazine, Devoted to Morality, Literature, Biography, History, the Fine Arts…..(I thought this specification was funny - okay! We get it! You're very classy, Boston Weekly)-- and the article appeared on June 30, 1804. This piece is a letter from a reader, supposedly, who is responding to the Boston Weekly's call for examples of exceptional women, and it is called "Moral and Useful: Miranda- A Character".
"I have been pleased to observe in your useful Miscellany, an endeavor to promote the intellectual improvement of the female sex, by setting before them examples of virtue, fortitude, piety, and every commendable pursuit: I wish to assist your laudable design, but sending the character of a lady with whom I have the happiness to be acquainted, which I hope you will permit to appear in your Magazine."
The letter goes on to describe Miranda, who is "endowed with all the graces that can excite admiration, all those virtues that can command respect". The letter-writer clarifies that Miranda is "pleasing, rather than beautiful" and spends an entire paragraph describing her musical skills, "which lead[s] one to prefer a simple air performed by her to the most brilliant execution of a finished amateur" (even though her voice is not strong). Most importantly, however, is the "high cultivation" of Miranda's mind. The writer highlights not only Miranda's "extensive reading and knowledge of the world", but also mentions that she is careful to "adapt her conversation to the taste and understanding of her companions". I found this to be the most interesting bit of this letter, because it acknowledges that along with great knowledge of the world, there also comes a great responsibility to not be a jerk about it to others. This seems somewhat surprising to note, particularly for a female intellectual.
However, although Miranda is very well read, she is also the perfect domestic partner, and performs her service to her family "without ever appearing hurried or in confusion". Hence, most likely, her usefulness. While I thought that this article was surprising in that it included education as a point of notability in female character, it did spent its majority depicting a more traditional female role.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
"Charge of the Irish Bishops"
Considering my search term: "pernicious books", and the periodical in which it appears, United States Catholic Miscellany (1822-1835), I was fairly sure of what to expect from this article before even opening it. The title of the article struck my attention, "Charge of the Irish Bishops", but I was surprised to find that the article wasn't written originally for the US Catholic Miscellany, but rather from the London Truthteller. "Charge of the Irish Bishops" appears in the March 30, 1825 edition of the American periodical, as a reprint of a "pastoral charge" that had been issued by the Irish Catholic Bishops, so the piece is literally a charge sent down from Catholic higher ups to the people of the Catholic church, and it's purpose is to reaffirm the church's position on "pernicious books" and to forbid "the use, the perusal, the reading, or retaining of them".
Several things struck me about this article, the first being the way that it was framed by the US Catholic Miscellany by a brief introduction which serves to inform the reader of the periodical's position on the following charge:
It was around here that I decided to look up the United States Catholic Miscellany, and I discovered that it, apparently, was the first Catholic newspaper in the US, and that the founder, Bishop John England (who likely wrote the preface to the charge, above) was kind of a big deal. The more you know!
This, however, lead me to all sorts of other questions about the article, in particular the motivations Bishop England may have had in reprinting the charge (he was a native of Ireland himself), how the readership may have responded to the charge and what kind of value they placed on the publication, and most importantly, if there had ever been anything printed in the United States Catholic Miscellany, which would've been deemed inappropriate by those leaders issuing the strongly-worded charge.
Another aspect I found interesting was the transatlantic connection between the US Catholic Miscellany and the London Truthteller. Because the majority of the article is a reprint of what appeared in the Truthteller, there isn't a lot of opportunity to observe the interplay between the charge and the American publication reprinting it. The most we have is the introduction, which reads enthusiastically, but offers no other information.
This is a bit of a tangent, but out of curiosity I managed to track down the US Catholic Miscellany's prospectus from the original publication. In describing the goals of the publication, Bishop England includes: "The correct statement of occurrences regarding the Catholic religion: for the purpose of better discharging which duty, communications and periodical publications from Rome, Paris, London, Dublin, Canada, South-America, the various parts of the United States, and other portions of the world will be obtained, and are, solicited." Clearly this article reflects this, and it would be interesting to see how often Bishop England ran these types of stories.
Finally, I have to point out some of the highlights of The Charge itself. There are so many excerpts that surprised me by the strong wording, but I've plucked out one in particular. Here, the Irish Bishops are urging their followers not only to avoid pernicious books, those that "are not sanctioned by us, or by any competent authority in the Catholic church", but also to avoid incorrect interpretations of the scriptures:
Though reading Starr's introduction and first chapter had me somewhat prepared, the idea of censorship has never been so clear to me as it is after reading this piece. It exhibits a real fear of the literacy and intellect of the people, and does so in an authoritative tone that is not afraid to use words like "suppression" and "prohibited", and is also not afraid to insinuate a bit of hellfire to drive its point home:
Yikes.
- Charge of the Irish Bishops. United States Catholic Miscellany (1822-1835); March 30, 1825; 4, 13; American Periodicals pg.204
- Prospectus. United States Catholic Miscellany (1822-1835); June 5, 1822; 1, 1; American Periodicals pg.1
Several things struck me about this article, the first being the way that it was framed by the US Catholic Miscellany by a brief introduction which serves to inform the reader of the periodical's position on the following charge:
- " 'A pastoral charge has been issued by the Irish Catholic Bishops, couched in the most impressive, admonitory, and eloquent language. Indeed it reminds us of the primitive times of Christianity, and reflects a lustre on the illustrious Catholic Hierarchy of Ireland. Our limits will not allow us to copy the whole, but we cannot refrain from laying the following extract before our readers, as it has been the subject of much animadversion and gross misrepresentation in the prints in the interest of the Biblicals."
This, however, lead me to all sorts of other questions about the article, in particular the motivations Bishop England may have had in reprinting the charge (he was a native of Ireland himself), how the readership may have responded to the charge and what kind of value they placed on the publication, and most importantly, if there had ever been anything printed in the United States Catholic Miscellany, which would've been deemed inappropriate by those leaders issuing the strongly-worded charge.
Another aspect I found interesting was the transatlantic connection between the US Catholic Miscellany and the London Truthteller. Because the majority of the article is a reprint of what appeared in the Truthteller, there isn't a lot of opportunity to observe the interplay between the charge and the American publication reprinting it. The most we have is the introduction, which reads enthusiastically, but offers no other information.
This is a bit of a tangent, but out of curiosity I managed to track down the US Catholic Miscellany's prospectus from the original publication. In describing the goals of the publication, Bishop England includes: "The correct statement of occurrences regarding the Catholic religion: for the purpose of better discharging which duty, communications and periodical publications from Rome, Paris, London, Dublin, Canada, South-America, the various parts of the United States, and other portions of the world will be obtained, and are, solicited." Clearly this article reflects this, and it would be interesting to see how often Bishop England ran these types of stories.
Finally, I have to point out some of the highlights of The Charge itself. There are so many excerpts that surprised me by the strong wording, but I've plucked out one in particular. Here, the Irish Bishops are urging their followers not only to avoid pernicious books, those that "are not sanctioned by us, or by any competent authority in the Catholic church", but also to avoid incorrect interpretations of the scriptures:
- " 'In reading, therefore, the sacred scriptures, dearly beloved, seek only to become wise to salvation, and avoid that most perverse of all errors, that source of numberless evils, that pride and presumption which has desolated the church, and which would tempt you to set up your own weak and fallible judgment against the judgment of the ONE HOLY CATHOLIC and APOSTOLIC CHURCH, which is THE PILLAR AND GROUND OF TRUTH, illuminated by the Holy Spirit, and directed and governed in all her decisions by the son of God.' "
Though reading Starr's introduction and first chapter had me somewhat prepared, the idea of censorship has never been so clear to me as it is after reading this piece. It exhibits a real fear of the literacy and intellect of the people, and does so in an authoritative tone that is not afraid to use words like "suppression" and "prohibited", and is also not afraid to insinuate a bit of hellfire to drive its point home:
- " 'Hence, dearest brethren, such books have been, and ever will be, execrated by the Catholic church; and hence also those salutary laws and ordinances, whereby she has at all times prohibited her children to read or retain them; nay, why she has frequently ordered them to be committed to the flames.' "
Yikes.
- Charge of the Irish Bishops. United States Catholic Miscellany (1822-1835); March 30, 1825; 4, 13; American Periodicals pg.204
- Prospectus. United States Catholic Miscellany (1822-1835); June 5, 1822; 1, 1; American Periodicals pg.1
Monday, August 29, 2011
creation of the media: pgs. 1-46
There are a few, specific points that I took from the introduction and first chapter of Paul Starr's The Creation of the Media, and rather than attempt to string them together in any logical way, I intend to present them individually, and then try to pinpoint some connections in my thought processes.
First and foremost, I have to address my fascination with the depth and scope that this book takes on its subject, and my surprise when I discovered just how much I didn't know about the creation of the media. Perhaps typical for someone born in the late 80s, I tend to take the media for granted, in that I had never bothered to consider how it had developed into what we now encounter on a daily basis. Having immediately noticed my shameful lack of historical knowledge on this topic, I powered through the first 46 pages with more pleasure than I'd expected to experience. :)
From the Introduction:
I find it interesting that Starr notes the way that changes in communication were presented to the public as they were made: "All these deviations from the society's ideal standards led to political struggles, and these political struggles changed the practical working of communications, though the changes were often presented and understood as reaffirmations of founding principles" (14, my italics). This is sneaky and quite clever, a way of avoiding a confession of wrongdoing by reaffirming that our intentions always were to provide what we'd been advertising all along: freedom of speech.
I'm also intrigued by problems that the American media managed to create by avoiding such regimented governmental control. On page 16, Starr mentions the monopolies of Western Union and the Associated Press, and remarks that "Americans confronted a new form of centralized power for which they at first had no institutional response". This is immediately followed by a mention that "advertising achieved earlier and wider acceptance in America than in Europe", a subject that I hope will receive more attention elsewhere in the book (16).
Finally, I have to comment on the curious reaction I had to a particular clarification that Starr makes in the introduction when he states that "Nineteenth- and early twentieth-century American newspapers gave primacy to reporting the news, while French newspapers gave primacy to literary essays" (18). Honestly, I had to read this sentence several times over, because never have I felt more absolutely American than I did in that moment. Of course newspapers should give primacy to the news, literary essays are for literary journals, you silly French! This must be a reflection of the way we've developed and come to rely on the newspaper in modern times, but can also be seen as an impulse to separate journalistic endeavors from academic or literary ones. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, or even if we're "right" in favoring news rather than literature in newspapers-- but I found my reaction as a reader surprising and possibly in need of a greater analysis.
From Chapter One: Early Modern Origins:
Throughout this chapter, I found myself drawing connections between early print circulation and the ever-expanding information overload of the internet. In particular, I was interested in the implications of the "invisible threads of connection" that are mentioned early in the chapter, and how they impact the way we do research in this field as modern scholars.
"Publications weave invisible threads of connection among their readers. Once a newspaper circulate, for example, no one ever truly reads it alone. Readers know that others are also seeing it at roughly the same time, and they read it differently as a result, conscious that the information is now out in the open, spread before a public that may talk about the news and act on it" (24).
What strikes me about this passage is the way that we as researchers must be contextualizing every piece of media that we come across, no matter in what century it originally appeared. If it isn't interesting enough to consider how readers read private and public communications differently, we also have to take into account how we are reading the periodicals that we find now in our current place and time. Not only are we charged with the responsibility of interpreting contextual information about the artifact's original circulation, but we also must be paying careful attention to our own context, and how interpretation may be shaped by these contexts.
Finally, because I'm finding myself beginning to ramble, I couldn't help but wonder what subscribing to eighteenth century British periodicals meant to those who subscribed to them. What was the subscription list like? What was the motivation for investing in a subscription? And, most interestingly, was the motivation always about reading or about appearing to read?
A highlighter lost its life due to my enthusiastic reading of these first 46 pages. I have bought more highlighters in preparation for the coming weeks. There is little doubt in my mind that I'll be needing them. :)
First and foremost, I have to address my fascination with the depth and scope that this book takes on its subject, and my surprise when I discovered just how much I didn't know about the creation of the media. Perhaps typical for someone born in the late 80s, I tend to take the media for granted, in that I had never bothered to consider how it had developed into what we now encounter on a daily basis. Having immediately noticed my shameful lack of historical knowledge on this topic, I powered through the first 46 pages with more pleasure than I'd expected to experience. :)
From the Introduction:
I find it interesting that Starr notes the way that changes in communication were presented to the public as they were made: "All these deviations from the society's ideal standards led to political struggles, and these political struggles changed the practical working of communications, though the changes were often presented and understood as reaffirmations of founding principles" (14, my italics). This is sneaky and quite clever, a way of avoiding a confession of wrongdoing by reaffirming that our intentions always were to provide what we'd been advertising all along: freedom of speech.
I'm also intrigued by problems that the American media managed to create by avoiding such regimented governmental control. On page 16, Starr mentions the monopolies of Western Union and the Associated Press, and remarks that "Americans confronted a new form of centralized power for which they at first had no institutional response". This is immediately followed by a mention that "advertising achieved earlier and wider acceptance in America than in Europe", a subject that I hope will receive more attention elsewhere in the book (16).
Finally, I have to comment on the curious reaction I had to a particular clarification that Starr makes in the introduction when he states that "Nineteenth- and early twentieth-century American newspapers gave primacy to reporting the news, while French newspapers gave primacy to literary essays" (18). Honestly, I had to read this sentence several times over, because never have I felt more absolutely American than I did in that moment. Of course newspapers should give primacy to the news, literary essays are for literary journals, you silly French! This must be a reflection of the way we've developed and come to rely on the newspaper in modern times, but can also be seen as an impulse to separate journalistic endeavors from academic or literary ones. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, or even if we're "right" in favoring news rather than literature in newspapers-- but I found my reaction as a reader surprising and possibly in need of a greater analysis.
From Chapter One: Early Modern Origins:
Throughout this chapter, I found myself drawing connections between early print circulation and the ever-expanding information overload of the internet. In particular, I was interested in the implications of the "invisible threads of connection" that are mentioned early in the chapter, and how they impact the way we do research in this field as modern scholars.
"Publications weave invisible threads of connection among their readers. Once a newspaper circulate, for example, no one ever truly reads it alone. Readers know that others are also seeing it at roughly the same time, and they read it differently as a result, conscious that the information is now out in the open, spread before a public that may talk about the news and act on it" (24).
What strikes me about this passage is the way that we as researchers must be contextualizing every piece of media that we come across, no matter in what century it originally appeared. If it isn't interesting enough to consider how readers read private and public communications differently, we also have to take into account how we are reading the periodicals that we find now in our current place and time. Not only are we charged with the responsibility of interpreting contextual information about the artifact's original circulation, but we also must be paying careful attention to our own context, and how interpretation may be shaped by these contexts.
Finally, because I'm finding myself beginning to ramble, I couldn't help but wonder what subscribing to eighteenth century British periodicals meant to those who subscribed to them. What was the subscription list like? What was the motivation for investing in a subscription? And, most interestingly, was the motivation always about reading or about appearing to read?
A highlighter lost its life due to my enthusiastic reading of these first 46 pages. I have bought more highlighters in preparation for the coming weeks. There is little doubt in my mind that I'll be needing them. :)
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