Composition

If you were to ask me what I thought of Composition 3360, I would answer that I enjoyed it, for the most part.
There were the obvious troubles, namely of trying to read Lanham’s entire book, “Style: An Anti-Textbook.” Not that “Style” was a bad book. On the contrary. Simply put, I could find very little time to read it, what, with my schedule being so hectic and all. The thesis of the book was very interesting, though, or what I had interpreted as its thesis: that discourse, in any form, is an expression of the human will to wave power over others’ heads.
Of course, I no more now than at the beginning of the semester believe at all in this, as I’m sure I argued in class more than a few times. There may be, however, a grain of truth in this idea, which I admit begrudgingly. But before going further, I would only point out one flaw that I think is pandemic in this argument as it’s traditionally used. The flaw is this: Assuming that the thesis is correct, that discourse is meant, invariably, to exercise power over others, is such communication always meant for selfish means? I’m speaking, evidently, about the sort of “selfishness” that’s pathological, here; no doubt, we could name all sorts of instances from simple observation in which we could prove that selfishness is not only healthy but even desirable. That isn’t what I’m talking about here, though.
Then there was the so-called “MOO” project, which I’m not sure how I feel about, except to say it was different. What struck me most of all, after everybody had stopped their fingers from clipping the keys and stood up from their little chairs, was of how relieved I felt at that instant to see people around me once more. It’d be difficult to produce a metaphor; maybe I felt like Plato’s naked man emerging from the cave to see the light, wanting to tell everyone else about it.
Over all, I enjoyed the class.