intermission

I heard a story about an all-too-familiar argument between a professor and a graduate student. Student is fluent in his language area, can conduct his interviews effectively, and certainly is intelligent, but is resistant to reading theory. The professor chides and cajoles, hoping to pique student's interest. The power dynamics of this office are being kept carefully concealed in the walls and drawers. Prof knows from experience that little will come of a forced, disaffected first tromp through a theoretical text, so no open threats grace the table. Anyway prof is worried he might have forgotten them at the bottom of a drawer in his last move. Finally, cleverly, professor brings student around through a proverbial ordering of the situation. He says: "If you're sure you want to do it without any theory I suppose you can just write it like a journalist."
And everything was put in perspective. Prof may have played on student's haughtiness instead of his dedication to scholarship, but everyone is happy with the results. Readings were assigned, understood, and absorbed into student's work. It reads no longer like a report or a news feed, but takes on weight in the corners of the pages. Strange etchings appear in watermark, zags cut the paper like novelty papyrus, fibers are drudged together like felt to all-but-obscure some of the footnotes. The pages feel to thicken and sag heavy with every turn. It would make a much better blanket than newspaper, to capture warmth and block the wind, but it has lost its function as a fire starter. This tome will not light until a house is burning down around it. We wonder if it burned at all, or instead was muted first to dust.