People far smarter and more prominent than yours truly have pointed this out, generally in vain: academic writing is driving itself extinct. And some of us will not mourn it, if it does. You see, academics are taught to write with an erudition and pomposity that satisfies dissertation committees made up of people who had to do the same. This academic hazing generally obscures otherwise interesting observations. Now thoroughly indoctrinated, academics go on to write their next book, and their articles, in this same turgid prose that obfuscates mightily. To what purpose? So that those critics higher on the food chain won’t be tempted to take on this morsel, preferring instead some “popularizer” who actually knows the craft of writing?
Poor writing is poor writing. Those of us who’ve graded undergraduate papers have spent many red pens (I used to use green, so as not to be so negative) correcting bad stuff. Why then do we give in to writing even worse ourselves? I’m not proud. I’ll admit that I’ve read academic books I really didn’t understand. And it wasn’t because I’m not properly trained. It’s because the writing was so full of jargon and “scholar X said but scholar Y rebutted”s that I get lost in the jungle. One of the things repeatedly said about my teaching, back in the day, was that it was effective because I could explain complicated things in ways people could understand. Isn’t that the purpose of publication in general? Too many scholars write only for other scholars. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but if they wrote clearly maybe some of the rest of us could get in on the conversation.
I’m sure I’m not the only one to get really excited about a book. The topic doesn’t matter. Shivering with anticipation you order it and await its arrival, staring out the window awaiting the postie or the Amazon van. It arrives and you caress it a little before opening it. Then you find it’s written in academese. You struggle to get through it, uncertain that you’ve really learned anything at all. Except how not to write. Those in higher education lament that the system is crumbling. One of the reasons, I contend, is that nobody can understand what they’re saying. What’s wrong with writing for the average, educated person? Do you need sixteen five-syllable words in one sentence? Look, I bought your book because I already believed in you. If you make me regret my spending you can be sure that I’ll be purchasing someone else’s books from now on.
