Is Handwriting Worth Preserving? (Rewrite)

Photo taken from Julia Turner's Slate article, "The End of Pens: Is handwriting worth saving?"

Society’s digital age seems to usher in faster and better ways of communication, as well as the end of “the handwriting” era.  In her intriguing article, Julia Turner, Slate’s Deputy Editor and regular on Slate’s Culture Gabfest Podcast, addresses this new phenomenon.  She frames her points in the context of a book review of The Missing Ink (Philip Hensher), which traces handwriting across the centuries.  Turner explains how handwriting has evolved as cultures attempt to make writing speedier and more legible.  However, handwriting today is often replaced with typing on technological devices, which raises the question: is handwriting even something worth preserving?

Turner’s statements gain credibility because she wrote some of her article by hand (scanned, of course, into the typed computer article).  This imagery reinforces some of her main points by allowing her to show and not just tell.  Turner uses several different handwriting styles throughout the article, ranging from a print-cursive hybrid (handwriting Turner learned in grade school) to a completely uppercase, block letter font (learned in an architecture class; shown in picture), to the scribbled version of the block font (a style she reverts to when rushing).  This plethora of fonts reflects Turner’s words and effectively furthers her points, as they trigger reactions in the reader based on how Turner writes as well as their own personal associations with writing styles.  The contrast between the block and scribbled block handwriting reminded me of disparities in my own handwriting depending on the context of my writing, an appeal to cultural memory that really helped Turner’s points to hit home.  Turner’s decision to arrange the points in the article in a cause and effect fashion helps the audience to better understand what is being said.  For instance, Turner begins the article discussing her handwriting at a young age, and in chronologically tracing her handwriting’s progression is able to weave in specific points from Hensher’s book.  This logical progression makes it harder for her points to be disputed because they occur in such a natural way and allow her to build up evidence furthering the article’s central question.

Turner’s compelling evidence for both sides of the handwriting preservation dilemma render this question difficult to answer.  However, based on the effects of the different handwritings used in the article, I do feel it is worth preserving.  In allowing her audience (teenage and older Americans interested in aspects of culture and their evolution) to ponder this question, Turner successfully fulfills her purpose of convincing her audience that Hensher’s book is both applicable and interesting.

"Jesus Shaves"

In “partie deux” (part two) of Me Talk Pretty One Day, author David Sedaris demonstrates once again his skillful command of language and ability to make an audience laugh.  These two assets feature prominently in the story “Jesus Shaves.”  This story centers around one of Sedaris’ memorable French classes, in which he and his classmates learn about French holidays and then attempt to explain to a Moroccan student (with their limited French vocabulary) the basics of Easter.  The rhetorical devices used by Sedaris effectively enhance his delivery and influence the reader’s perception of different characters, making this story especially memorable.

The most prominent device Sedaris uses is his blurring of French and English by writing in English but using French syntax.  This technique, coupled with Sedaris’ creative phrasing (“It [Easter] is a party for the little boy of G-d who call his self Jesus…” [177]) brings Sedaris’ amateur French class to life for the reader.  This style is enhanced through Sedaris’ usage of simile to create humorous and lasting imagery.  For instance, in France there is no Easter bunny but instead an Easter bell, which for Sedaris is “…like saying that come Christmas, a magic dustpan flies in from the North Pole, led by eight flying cinder blocks,” (179).  In addition to inducing laughter, these comparisons play upon the reader’s cultural memory.  To an audience (particularly Americans who love to laugh but are mature enough to handle some explicit and racy language) that actually understands and has specific associations with Easter of bunnies and chocolate and with Christmas of Santa Claus delivering presents with his sleigh of reindeer, the holiday explanations presented by Sedaris and the members of his class seem especially out of place and thus funny.  By taking aspects of life familiar to his audience and twisting them into funny anecdotes, Sedaris’ words leave a lasting impression.

It is ironic that for someone with such a strong facility for the English language, Sedaris makes so many French “faux pas”.  These “mistakes”, however, lend originality and humor to Sedaris’ writing, allowing him to effectively complete his purpose of entertaining his audience with personal anecdotes.

La Revue Misérable

 

 

     In his critique of the movie Les Misérables, which appeared in The New Yorker, David Denby (staff writer and film critic at The New Yorker since 1998) attacks many of the film’s intrinsic elements.  Beginning with its setting, and progressing through its staging, singing, actors, music, connections to life, and use of emotion, Denby explains how the movie only featured melodramatic scenes.  He finds fault with the gray, drab, and wet (both through tears and rain) atmosphere of the movie, its “elemental” use of emotion and disconnect with actual life, even suggesting two “cures” at the end of his article for those still “suffering from absorption in ‘Les Mis’ ”.  Denby effectively uses rhetorical questioning to challenge the audience’s preconceived beliefs about Les Mis, which helps to raise doubt and uncertainty in their minds.  However, he is unable to provide much external evidence to support his opinions.  Denby seems to have targeted the review specifically at Les Mis fans and lovers, with the intention of highlighting for them all the ways in which Les Mis the movie fails to deliver the incredible, emotional, and complex story of its written counterpart.  However, I think the tautology of Denby’s writing (ironically, the same overuse of pathos to make points for which he condemned the movie) detracted from the overall strength of his claims.  Perhaps a less ardent Les Mis fan would disagree, but I think Denby’s negative tone and highly critical approach interfered with his ability to successfully accomplish his purpose.