Whether you play, watch, or try to ignore it, sport is woven into our daily lives. In this class, we read some of the very best sports journalism with a critical lens. In so doing, we examined intersections between business, race, culture, disability, gender, performance, technology, politics, social justice, and above all else attention to inquiry through thoughtful writing.
In what ways can each sport be considered its own culture, with distinct rituals, language, costumes, imagery and relationship networks? What’s interesting about the way sports bodies are transformed under the spectator’s gaze – especially when those bodies are thought to have an advantage based on sex, race, gender or disability? What constitutes “greatness” in the context of time, aging, and the marketing of self? And how do we start to understand the political, technological, and social trap that athletes find themselves in when asked to be role models and cultural symbols -- but not to speak?
Explore and enjoy a sampling of the work created in this course! Check out the collaborative digital journal made by U.C. Berkeley students in a Fall 2018 writing seminar co-sponsored by College Writing Programs & the Art of Writing program at the Townsend Center for the Humanities.
The Godfather: Anatomy of a Film features eighteen essays on this classic film, each of which explores it from a different angle. Many essays concentrate on the technical craft of the film — from its costume design to its score and editing, to the favored gestures of its actors. Others look at particular tropes in the film, such as its deployment of cigarettes or alcohol. Still others focus on particular scenes in the film, revealing the intricate web of meanings that can be found in scenes that many critics of the film rarely examine. For a sketch of the process by which the site was created, reader are encouraged to read this essay.
The Godfather: Anatomy of a Film is a digital project that emerged from "The Seventies," a 45-person undergraduate lecture course taught by Scott Saul at UC Berkeley in Spring 2018. Support was provided by Cal's Art of Writing and Digital Humanities programs.
Art of Writing is pleased to announce this year's winner of the Art of Rewriting Essay Contest, Leonid Elyon. Leonid is currently a second year double majoring in Genetics and Plant Biology and Slavic Languages and Literature. Leonid studies Russian and Polish languages and literatures, and hopes to study more Slavic Languages in the future. He is the head designer of the Undergrad Slavic Journal Troika and a designer at Caliber magazine as well. Leonid loves plants, nature, and literature equally, but is currently unsure where his majors will ultimately take him--possibly into a career in academia, but first to Latvia, where he will be studying abroad this fall.
Leonid's essay, "Sappho and Society" began as an assignment for a Slavic R5A course taught by 2016 Koshland Fellow Caroline Brickman. Leonid writes,
Sappho, and [Anne] Carson’s perceived manipulation of her, intrigued me, but what I wrote was merely an answer to a prompt. I had never been exposed to the essay style, but when a professor showed me recently just how broad writing styles can be, I felt inspired to rewrite this Sappho paper as an essay. [...] My first hurdle was in refining my argument. What began as a traipse into space and Sappho has become about Carson’s motivations for writing this book, [...] which led me to believe that the very physicality of the book was its most important aspect: the fact that it can be smelled and touched and rifled through. [...] I now hope this essay can stand on its own, ushered from being a simple assignment to being a real idea.
See below for the full text of Leonid's essay.
Sappho and Society
In my freshman year of college I remembered I liked to read. Where had the time gone when I went with my mother to the library and I would check out a stack this high and actually read? It was in high school that I became a fake, someone who wanted to collect but never to consume. We’d go to Goodwill, my mother and I, and I would pick so and so from the shelf and I’m sure she’d look on with proud eyes at the tomes I picked. “That’s my son, what a reader,” she’d think. But it was a lie. Once home the books would sit and collect dust. Was I scared of something? Perhaps a laziness had set into my bones and settled like all the calcium from the milk I drank. I also found out in freshman year I was lactose intolerant, but that’s beside my point: something had happened.
I won’t claim that Anne Carson’s If Not, Winter changed me, or that it awoke in me my love for books. It did nothing of the sort, in fact it did something quite the opposite; I could suddenly argue with literature. Before If Not, Winter, books to me were these static things; they had words and meaning and images, but they were nothing special. When I read all those books from the library, they impacted me in the way a cult impacts an impressionable youth. I became obsessed with copying their form and style and tone without regard for my own deeper thought processes. It had never occured to me that literature you write can be in response to what you read.
That’s exactly what this book is. It is the response to a societal mood: let’s use and abuse Sappho (after all, who cares?). Carson wants an end to what she describes aptly as “a duller load of silence surround[ing] the bits of Sappho cited by ancient scholars, grammarians, metricians, etc., who want a dab of poetry to decorate some proposition of their own.” These people have become targets, and every bracket seems to further nail the coffin in their graves.
Brackets, yes, I seem to have gotten ahead of myself. I’ve yet to describe the illustrious If Not, Winter. Under the guise of a 400 page tome, these Sapphic translations are true to the original (perhaps too much so). The book opens with Carson’s brief introduction and begins with the only Sappho poem to survive in its entirety. The Greek on the left page faces the English on the right, all organized into clean stanzas. Now that I’ve seen frats and sororities I know some of these Greek letters: there’s a phi, and an omega, and a chi… If only I spoke ancient Greek. We have to trust that Carson’s words have remained as true to the original as the book’s design layout implies, as most people uneducated in Sappho are ushered by this design into the belief that her words unequivocally equal Sappho’s.
The question of translational quality goes out the window as we are led down the book’s meandering path of brackets and open space. Blank pages with sparse fragmentary words enclosed by brackets litter the book. These brackets “indicate destroyed papyrus or the presence of letters not quite legible somewhere in the line.” More importantly, though, “brackets are an aesthetic gesture toward the papyrological event rather than an accurate record of it.” As the book winds to a close, Carson stuffs in as many of the one-word fragments as possible. We find such favorites as “soda,” “makeup bag,” and “mythweaver.”
Is this all a joke? It would seem almost that Carson is doing Sappho a disservice in translating her so, left her open to insults by freshmen in college like me. Oh, if Carson were to see how my pencil stabbed at the pages and attacked any vulnerable word that was left with only the protection of those brackets, she would cry. I’m sure I could have finished the book in 5 minutes if I hadn’t put it down in bored disgust first. “Who does Anne Carson think she is?” I thought. I paid money for this joke of a book, for these fragments of Sappho, and all I got was “soda” and “makeup bag.” Claiming this conclusive edition of Sapphic translations was the be-all end-all, Carson thought she could single-handedly shut down those “ancient scholars, grammarians, metricians, etc.,” but she became one of them, seemingly taking advantage of the abused and discarded Sappho. I picked the book back up. Carson, what’s your game? At that point in my freshman year of college I remembered I liked to read.
I’ve come to realize that this isn’t really a book book. It’s a guidebook, a dictionary, a How to Sappho for Dummies. It was Carson putting her foot down because Sappho had been changed. Rather than take from her, poets and authors had instead begun to add to her their own styles and words and emotions. This book truly is the definitive Sappho. It’s not meant to be read, but rather referred to. These brackets lend a scientific cleanliness, organizing freeform words and stanzas into immoveable squares held far away from the vastness of the blank page. Keep this book on your shelf, Carson begs, and use it when some “ancient scholars, grammarians, metricians, etc.” attempt to quote Sappho. You can see “soda,” and know exactly where to draw the line between them and Sappho.
If Not, Winter is Sappho unadulterated. It seems that I’ve lied to myself, thinking that it hasn’t changed me. I’m somehow imprinted in these pages, as brackets and one word translations lend themselves to a certain universality: It’s true, occasionally I do sit on the sofa, sipping soda, while my mother digs into her makeup bag and wonders what happened to the days where I read and never argued.
It's that time of year again: we're coming to UCB faculty, staff, and students and asking for your suggestions of great readings for this year's Summer Reading List for New Students. Check out this year's theme below, and if you have a suggestion, please send the title, author name, and a short description of the book, including how it speaks to this year's theme, to Mike Larkin (email@example.com) by Friday, March 2.
Fiat Lux: Let there be light...and inspiration, discovery, and hope
As UC Berkeley marks its sesquicentennial, we'd like you to take the university's motto, Fiat Lux ("Let there be light") as inspiration for your recommendations of great reads to share with Cal's incoming classes of freshmen and transfer students. We encourage you to interpret the theme broadly: what are your favorite books of whatever genre detailing journeys or moments of discovery or inspiration; narratives of personal transformation and insight; or perhaps stories of dark, difficult times in personal or societal history where people found their way to the "light."
Journalism, fiction, history, poetry, biography and memoir--whatever the genre, what are the readings that would suit the theme, that resonate most with you, and that you'd love our new incoming students to be inspired by? Please let us know, and let there be light...from you. (No pressure.)
For samples of past years' write-ups by the UCB folks who suggested the readings, see reading.berkeley.edu. Again, we look forward to seeing your recommendations by Friday, March 2. Many thanks.
All best and happy reading,
Mike Larkin, College Writing Programs
Tim Dilworth, UC Library
Art of Writing held its second annual Undergraduate Essay Contest this spring. Because it is a central principle of the program that thoughtful revision is essential to good writing, students were asked to submit an essay in both its early and final stages, along with an account of the changes they made to the piece in between.
This year’s winner was Sophia Stewart, a sophomore from Los Angeles with a major in Media Studies and a minor in Spanish. She works as an editor and staff writer for the campus publication Caliber Magazine, and serves on the board of directors for BareStage Productions, UC Berkeley’s oldest student-run theater company. She aspires to work in the television industry as a writer and critic.
In her prizewinning essay, Stewart offers a sensitive exploration of her own experience as a person who stutters:
I’m not praying to be totally fluent tomorrow, or even mostly fluent. My request is specific and far more realistic. I want to be able to say my name fluently; not Sssssophia, not S-S-Sophia, just plain old Sophia. I gather up the courage to ask:
O Mysterious Gods of Speech, in its perpetual ebb and flow. Tomorrow, allow my speech to be sufficiently cooperative that I may introduce myself unimpeded. That’d be dope.
They listen. The next day I’m able to introduce myself to the class fluently. Of course, when I’m asked to share my major, I have to slip out the untrue but easier open vowel of ‘I’m not sure yet’ instead of the true but closelipped nasal consonant mee of ‘Media Studies.’ It’s a compromise I accept. Better to pretend I don’t know my major than my name.
On February 23rd, we had the pleasure of hosting Professor Robert Reich for our second annual Art of Writing Lecture. The event began with Professor Reich filming his daily Resistance Report on Facebook live, which, in a deviation from the Report's usual monologue format, included him taking numerous questions about the current political climate from the 150 undergraduate students in the audience. After the Report, however, Professor Reich switched gears a little, chatting with Art of Writing Director Ramona Naddaff about his practices as a writer.
The former Secretary of Labor under President Bill Clinton, a prolific political commentator, and professor of over 700 students in his popular Wealth and Poverty course alone at the UC Berkeley Goldman School of Public Policy, Reich is also the author of fourteen books and several plays, and has been a contributing editor at periodicals such as The New Republic, The Atlantic, The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, The American Prospect (which he co-founded), and the Harvard Business Review. Speaking with Prof. Naddaff, he shared his reflections on everything from the importance of returning to first drafts, his reluctant embrace of social media, and the passion (and rage) that fuels his deeply felt need to write. You can watch the whole conversation here:
As part of UC Berkeley’s new Art of Writing curriculum, English professor Scott Saul and PhD candidate Ismail Muhammad taught a creative nonfiction workshop on the theme of Covering Culture.
For every assignment, the class hosted a visitor whose work provided a source of inspiration; the visitors were Lili Loofbourow (The Week), film historian David Thomson, Hua Hsu (The New Yorker), art journalist Sarah Thornton, and Sarah Burke (then managing editor and writer for the East Bay Express).
Due to the ongoing renovation of Wheeler Hall, the English Department’s customary home, the seminar met in a room surrounded by cubicle-like offices in the somewhat faceless, low-slung Building C of Hearst Field Annex — thus the name of the site: www.medium.com/the-annex.
The latest episode of the Townsend Center for the Humanities' books-and-arts podcast Chapter & Verse features critics Jeff Chang and Hua Hsu in conversation about music, race, and popular culture. The conversation was part of the Art of Cultural Criticism Lecture Series created by Art of Writing Professor Scott Saul in tandem with his Fall 2016 course Covering Culture.
From Chapter & Verse:
Jeff Chang and Hua Hsu are among the most lucid and sane guides to the divided world we live in — the world that encompasses both Black Lives Matter and Donald Trump, Beyoncé and Steve Bannon.
How is it that, as American culture becomes increasingly 'colorized,' to use Chang's word, its politics get increasingly polarized in terms of black and white? What are the roots of this divide? How does it tie into other patterns of inequality? Where do Asian-Americans fit in? And how might a Berkeley education — both Hsu and Chang are Cal alums — set up a writer to see the faultlines of this terrain?
These are the questions explored in this C&V episode, which comes from a recording of an event held in October 2016 on the Berkeley campus.
Jeff Chang is the author of several acclaimed books including Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop: A History of the Hip-Hop Generation, a synthetic history of the rise of hip hop; Who We Be: A Cultural History of Post-Civil Rights America, which traces how artists of color created new stories of national belonging and new forms of cultural protest; and We Gon’ Be Alright: Notes on Race and Resegregation, a primer on our current political crisis. He is currently executive director of Stanford's Institute for the Diversity in the Arts.
Hua Hsu has written, capaciously, on music, politics, sports, and books for Grantland, Slate, and most recently The New Yorker, where he serves as a contributing writer. An associate professor of English at Vassar College and a board member of the Asian American Writers’ Workshop, Hsu is also the author of A Floating Chinaman: Fantasy and Failure Across the Pacific, a study of the rivalries that beset those who, during the interwar years, hoped to speak for China in the West.
Come Write In sessions are back at UC Berkeley. Have you ever thought about writing a novel, but just didn’t think you had the time? Well, a small group of friends from the East Bay, dared themselves to finish their novels in 30 days back in 1999, and since then, this humble non-profit, NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, has become a global event of epic proportions! 50,000 words in 30 days! Quantity over quality is the name of the game! Turn off your inner editor, let the words flow, and win!
The amazing folks over at nanowrimo.org created this worldwide community of writers and a support system of libraries, bookstores, and other neighborhood spaces all over the globe called Come Write In, where “Wrimos” gather and forge ahead towards their word count goals during their quest to win this incredible book-in-a-month contest. With all the collective, creative, positive energy of over 300,000+ participants, all writing together, winning is possible! So, finish that paper, mid-term or lab report and come join us! Everyone that attended our sessions last year reached their word-count goals!
· Sign up at nanowrimo.org and join the East Bay Home Region to see the calendar of events and further details for the UC Berkeley Doe Library location.
· Come Write In at Doe Library – Room 303 Doe Library
· Sundays, November 6, 13, 2016, 1 - 4pm
· Sunday, November 20, 2016, 1 - 3pm
· Wednesday, November 30, 2016, 6-9pm
The Library attempts to offer programs in accessible, barrier-free settings. If you think you may require disability-related accommodations, please contact Shannon Monroe at least two weeks prior to the event at firstname.lastname@example.org.