There are at least as many ways to write really interesting essays as there are people writing really interesting essays, but for the most part, they break down into two broad types. There are the ones that completely change the way you look at some subject you thought you knew about, forcing you to change your opinion of it; and there are the ones that explain some subject in such a clear and compelling way that they change the way you think about it (even if you don't change your opinion of the subject).
Those two types account for most of the interesting essays out there, but don't cover everything. Among the types of essays that don't really fit those categories is one that requires a special sort of genius: the essay that says things that you generally agree with, in a way that makes you hate them.
Take, for example, this essay on reading (you may find the zap colors bookmarklet useful for transforming their teal-on-black color scheme into something legible). Its core point is, basically, that there are people who read lots of different types of material, and people who read only one thing, and there are benefits to being the sort of person who reads widely. I agree with that-- I teach at a liberal arts school, after all-- and I'm pretty sure I've advocated that position in various online discussions in the past.
But after reading this:
And is it strictly true that there are these two opposing types of reader, and not some sort of continuum of interest and ability that creates as many types of readers as there are readers themselves? I wouldn't swear there wasn't, but I do spot a big difference between a reader who exposes themselves to a wide variety of material, and one who has reread Terry Goodkind seven times but never at least tried to read a book by Dickens, Twain, Orwell, or Hemingway. Or the non-fiction guy who avoids novels because he insists he can't learn any 'facts' from them, versus the student of history who knows that the best way to get under a culture's skin is to read its fiction. Or the reader who only likes a particular kind of media tie-in novel, or only books by a certain author, or only multi-volume series with Mary Sue characters and happy endings, as opposed to the sort of person that enjoys the occasional reading challenge, and wants to be exposed to many viewpoints and perspectives.
I'm not entirely sure I want to be associated with that position. In fact, I kind of think I'd like to be able to reach through the Internet and slap the author. Amusingly, one of the two comments at the bottom of the piece is actually a TrackBack to a blog post where the author recommends reading the whole essay, "lest you think mine is an argument founded on some sort of smug exclusivity." What, exactly, should I go read if I find the essay in question insufferably smug?
As I said, there's a certain skill required to re-state a position that I basically agree with, and make it seem incredibly irritating, while sincerely trying to advocate it. It's not a skill I particularly want to cultivate, but it's kind of perversely fascinating.
Humanities & Social Science
