Blog Response #2: Genre. Bent.

The question of genre is one that has intrigued—plagued, really—me for quite some time now, ever since I took a class whose purpose was to define form. Basically, we had to see where the line between fiction and poetry lay; it was a difficult class, one that many people were quick to label as “experimental” (my, I’m using lots of buzzwords here, ain’t I?), but it wasn’t, really—it was just a question of exploring genre. Indeed, the very first essay we had to write in that class (and one that I really didn’t do very well on) was that question which Amy J. Devitt is trying to answer—what is genre?

It was hard precisely because of the problem that Devitt probes—so often, we define genre by the end form of a piece of writing, when what we should be examining is the situation and/or motivation for creating that very piece. It can be difficult for students, and I can really relate to students who struggle to understand an assignment’s particular generic “space.” (Another buzzword. Man, I’m on a roll today.) For example, when I was in that class about form, four other people in the class—there were only six of us, including the professor—were poets. There was one other fiction writer and, admittedly, poetry serves as a better jumping-off point when discussing form, since that’s one definition of poetry, a definition that we could banter about: writing with form.

When I was asked to write stuff that was more poetry than fiction, I balked. I certainly wanted to, because I loved much of the stuff that we were discussing in class, like prose poetry, that bent the rules. I wanted to try, to excel—such was my mindset. However, I was grasping for an anchor, something that would help me understand this new exigence that confronted me. I really relate to what Devitt says:

“Since the genre constructs the situation, students will not be able to respond appropriately to assigned situations unless they know the appropriate genre. What we often diagnose as ignorance of a situation or inability to imagine themselves in another situation may in fact be ignorance of a genre or inability to write a genre they have not sufficiently read: they may feel great love but be unable to write a love sonnet.”

How do we, as instructors, help students overcome this problem? Honestly, I’m at a bit of a loss. Aside from simply having the students read, read, read and write, write, write, I don’t really see any way. Perhaps that’s the unspoken message in Devitt’s article: we must really put the students to work. I’m down.