Jacques Barzun, where are you? A brief reflection on the quality of research writing

Citation

Gorman, G.E. (2013), "Jacques Barzun, where are you? A brief reflection on the quality of research writing", Online Information Review, Vol. 37 No. 3. https://doi.org/10.1108/oir.2013.26437caa.001

Jacques Barzun, where are you? A brief reflection on the quality of research writing

Article Type: Editorial From: Online Information Review, Volume 37, Issue 3

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  Bad writing, it is easily verified, has never kept scholarship from being published (Barzun, 2000).

As most will know, Professor Jacques Barzun passed away in October 2012 at age 104. The name will be familiar to many, as he was a true Renaissance man, and one of his recurring themes was the necessity for effective communication by researchers. Indeed, Barzun was perhaps the most articulate academic of the twentieth century on the issue of good writing in all intellectual endeavours, and especially on the effective communication of ideas. Writing, Barzun seemed to know instinctively, is a complex task involving many skills, among them reading comprehension, analytical abilities, the mechanics of writing, reasoned and defensible argumentation, effective use of evidence, etc. And he bemoaned the fact that increasing numbers of students and researchers seemed not to recognize this (as the opening quote attests).

As a young University of Toronto/Trinity College postgraduate in the early 1970s, I stumbled across a copy of Barzun and Graff’s (1970) The Modern Researcher (mine is the revised edition of 1970) and came to know Barzun through that wonderful guide – it is on my shelves still, amongst probably 200 texts and monographs devoted to the philosophy and practice of research. Two ideas that I took from my first reading of this enlightening text resonate still:

1. 1.

   the techniques of research and the art of expression – science and art combined – are two halves of being a good researcher; and

2. 2.

   informed expression is a complex mix of skillful expression+research techniques+the art of thought (found somewhere in the book’s foreword).

To me these are significant ideas: research is a complex undertaking that is more than mastery of data-gathering mechanics and analytical skills; it is as much a matter of how we analyse the data and how we communicate our results to others. This is evident in a piece in the Chronicle of Higher Education by Barzun’s grandson Charles, in which he reflects on what he learned from his grandfather about communicating well, and how this was presented to him (Barzun, 2013). Having sent the elder Barzun a completed paper for comment, Charles received the following from his grandfather in reply:

“Dear Charles, […] I have come to believe that you sent me the first draft of your paper [Editor’s note: it was a final version, which Jacques chose to treat as a draft], in which you set down in the roughest sort of order the ideas you wanted to take up, without bothering about diction, grammar, syntax, and least of all fluidity or elegance.” My tendency to repeat the names of authors, which could “narcotize the reader,” was only slightly less egregious than my sloppy use of “premise,” “concept,” “maxim,” and “axiom,” all of which “have definite meanings that should not be thrown around freely.”

Here Barzun presents his understanding of writing research as an art form, not a mechanistic process. Unfortunately, too few of us think like Barzun, or perhaps we do not understand what writing is meant to convey. For example, in a book such as How to Write and Publish a Scientific Paper – a random example pulled off a shelf of 20 or so similar titles – authors Day and Gastel (2006) focus clearly on the mechanics rather than the style of writing. A series of brief “how to” chapters look at the abstract, introduction, results, etc. In each case the authors offer abbreviated statements on what each component should contain, and precious little on style – to them, apparently, this really is a mechanical process in which the writer simply follows a template. The same can be said of many writers of research, journal editors and review panels.

The consequence of such guidance is clear to see in almost any research monograph or journal article, including articles in this journal. What we as editors receive on a daily basis is papers that are dry, formulaic and sterile in expression, and perhaps also in findings. Can we do much to reverse this situation, or create a new trend towards literate, stylish, sometimes witty, but still clear, precise and easily understood prose in our journal papers and monographs? Perhaps not, because the modern generation of productive researchers has been educated and trained by a previous generation of researchers that writes so badly.

Nevertheless, I would at least commend to all colleagues Figure 9: Questions to Ask in Writing and Revising in The Modern Researcher (Barzun and Graff, 1970, p. 310); this is a series of 15 questions that writers should be asking as they write and as they revise for publication. Equally, editors and reviewers of journal submissions should ask these same questions.

Some years ago a colleague came to my office and asked if I had been leading a Master’s class on research methods, to which I replied affirmatively.

“But”, she said, “I heard laughter coming from the room.”

“Yes”, I agreed.

“Why?” she replied, and continued, “Research is no laughing matter, it is serious professional business.”

Jacques knew better, and so should we. Both the doing and the writing of research can contain wit, a smooth literary style, direct and jargon-free language and a well-formed vocabulary. It should not be formulaic, dry, devoid of insight and style. Perhaps it is time that we start requiring these characteristics in our various gatekeeping roles.

G.E. Gorman