Weeks ago, Ruchira invited me to post a message along the
lines of the discussion
we had here about the relationship of science
and art. Thank you, Ruchira,
for the generous invitation. The
continuation of that discussion, which was the goal of her invitation, awaits
another day, because I am frankly not very clear about what I meant, except
that the ascendancy of popular science’s meddling in art leaves a bad taste in
my mouth. The invitation to write is
inevitably also an opportunity to fret. Even the fluidity and freedom of association of the blogosphere don’t
cure writer’s block. So, I’ve decided to
take up another of Ruchira’s suggestions to me, the posting of a book review. I’m a librarian, so I am quite amenable to
investing my energies and enthusiams in other folks’ published works, one of
which I recently finished reading: Richard
A. Lanham’s The Economics of Attention: Style and Substance in the
Age of Information (Univ. of Chicago Press,
2006) ISBN 0226468828.
Richard Lanham is most well-known as a professor of English
at UCLA and elsewhere. He is expert not
only in the history of rhetoric, but also in the very practical matter of
revision of prose. (It is clear that I
haven’t read any of his practical work.) He has also served as an expert witness in cases involving copyright,
trademark, and other issues requiring stylistic judgment (not any court’s
forte, that’s for sure), and he and his wife run a consulting business, Rhetorica,
Inc., whose web site is well worth a visit, if not entirely
intuitively navigable. See his “Stuffy
Biography” there for more details. His
background plainly accounts for two aspects of his new book: his emphasis on the integral value of style
to all kinds of informative expression, and the clear, breezy style of his own
prose.
The commitment to clarity explains why I don’t recall Lanham
even once using the word “dialectic” in his new book, but on reflection I think
that’s what he describes as style’s confrontations with substance, a perpetual
shifting of powers and priorities along a trajectory of historical evolution. At least this is how he urges the reader to
view the relationship. His thesis is
that where once we depended on economics to dwell on the scarcity of “stuff”—material
objects you can drop on your foot, as he puts it—its focus in our new age of
marketing and knowledge management has shifted (or at least ought to shift) to
our scarcity of attention to “fluff,” the plentitude of information propagated
by digital media. So simply stated, the
thesis is perhaps more fun than insightful. And perhaps all told this fairly characterizes the book, which is a real
pleasure to read, but which at the end of the day leaves one wondering what’s
to be done about the economic shift of attention to attention. By this I don’t mean the book is mere fluff,
because I for one find pleasure at least as handy as information.
Lanham’s professional career, however, suggests an obvious response
to such a quandary: we should cultivate
rhetoric, the art of persuasion. We must
learn how to use the language, and now also all competing media with and
through which we communicate messages, to capture the gaze of our intended
audience. (The clashing metaphors sum up
our synaesthetic situation.) Lanham’s
orientation is thus both prospective and retrospective. He’s an old-fashioned emeritus professor of
stuffy literature with his sights set on cutting-edge frontiers of
technological promise, a hip digiphile with a cool web site and references in his
book to, among others, John Cage and Miles Davis, steeped in the minutiae of
classical literary technique. To boot,
he is not an economist, a circumstance he fully discloses. That is, he is not a real economist, the sort
who would write a book titled, The Economics of [something we never imagined to
have an economic aspect, but which on second thought does appear to be suited
for such quasi-scientific modeling, and so something about which we now
desperately want an economist’s take if we’re to grasp its importance and its
essence…something like aging, or art, or—if you’re freakonomists Levitt and
Dubner—everything…or attention]. In a
way, he hedges this confession when he first holds himself out as a scholar of
rhetoric—an indisputable claim—and then identifies rhetoric with the economics
of attention. So he is some kind of an
economist after all, or perhaps he only means to present himself as one who
studies, rather than does, what economists do.
No matter. The point
of his book is not to prescribe rigorous principles of an economics of attention,
but rather to set the stage for one from which to rally enthusiasts to advance,
and to begin to explain why rhetoric is the plunger to wield against the information
back-up. The stage setting has
historical and contemporary furnishings, corresponding to Lanham’s depth of
knowledge of literary history and his genuine excitement with the miscellaneous
mess of so-called information accumulating in digital storehouses around the
world. For example, he describes
evolving formats of script and print. The classical convention of writing without spaces between words or
punctuation gave way to formal rules for indicating the textual correlatives of
bodily and vocal gesture, which succumbed to more experimental, iconoclastic
principles of design that nowadays seem coy after the advent of whoop-de-do,
bells-and-whistles, pull-out-all-the-stops Flash presentations melding images,
sound, and text (well, at least the copyright statement remains as a stable vestige
of print culture).
This evolution points out an important thread of the book, Lanham’s
elaboration of the complementary notions of “at” and “through” reading. We tend to read text by seeing through it to
the underlying abstract concepts, until the text (or some prescribed reading
convention) prompts us to attend directly to the material text, to look
directly at it and its design on the page or screen. In other words, we think of substance as what
the text means and style as how it means it, and we generally have little
trouble distinguishing the two. The Web and
digital media facilitate the “at” approach, just as rhetoric has purported to
do so since its inception. “If you can’t
dazzle ‘em with brilliance, baffle ‘em with bullshit” pretty well, if
cynically, reflects this power of rhetoric to focus attention on style rather
than substance, and Lanham is justifiably at pains to rescue rhetoric from its
almost exclusive identification these days with the latter derogatory clause.
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