Writing in the first person: innovation or disaster?

A year ago I opened a thesis that astounded me: the doctoral student wrote ‘I will explore the aspects of …’ and that ‘I chose the sample on the basis that …’. It was the first instance of the consistent use of the first person that I had seen in 15 years’ experience of editing academic texts.

The student explained that his supervisor had recommended this approach to acknowledge the particularly close links between the researcher and the research subjects. When, a couple of months later, I read another introductory chapter in the first person I again checked that this was not an oversight. Since that time, more theses than not have included significant elements written in the first person and I have long stopped querying it.

So why this sudden introduction of the personal into formal academic texts? Is it a fad or is there a useful purpose?

There is nothing that has to be expressed in the first person. If the author’s own experience is relevant, it can be described in the passive mood: ‘ … the researcher had worked in the local authority for ten years, so many personal contacts were available’. The purpose of using the first person must therefore be conceptual rather than practical.

Clearly, the writer’s thoughts, life, character and experience are in the background and must inform the thesis, from the choice of topic to the conclusions - a different person would produce different work. What is the advantage, though, of focusing a spotlight on the researcher, as well as on the subjects? An acknowledgement of the role of the personal is one possibility, though this can be achieved without using the first person. Beyond that it remains a mystery to me (and yes, I do acknowledge the paradox!).

The disadvantage is clearer: it is difficult to avoid the formal report of a piece of research developing overtones of a primary school essay: the spirit of ‘What I Did On My Holidays’ creeps onto the page. The student asserts ‘I think that …’ and the reader tacitly replies, ‘Who cares?’. The excitement of the ice cream and the trip to Alton Towers overshadows the main purpose of the work, and risks downgrading the research to an opinion piece.

Does this trend reflect the increased consumerisation and marketisation of education? Is the researcher at the forefront because increasingly the main aim is to enhance the student’s career rather than to add to the sum of knowledge? Is this way of thinking encouraged by Thatcher’s children reaching the age where they become doctoral supervisors? Whatever the reason, it does not read well. With luck, it may prove to be a fad. But I (as if you care!) doubt it.

The theatrical strategy for drafting a conclusion

A recent discussion about concluding a thesis led to agreement about how difficult it can be to approach the final chapter, then to possible ways of conceptualising and solving the problem. Here - with thanks to Ewan and Mollie - is one way of looking at the task, based on similar approaches that have proved helpful to blocked thesis-writers!

One of the difficulties with drafting the concluding chapter is that it needs to be approached quite differently from the preceding chapters. All the way through you have been embedded in detail - making sure that everything is referenced, that the methodology is researched, developed and defended, that every claim for the results is backed up and demonstrated by facts and quotations. At the end, faced with writing the conclusion, one tends to be so bogged down by the sheer quantity of information that the necessary succinctness and clarity of view are hard to find.

Why is the conclusion so important?
While there are many academically impeccable reasons for writing a good final chapter, in hard pragmatic terms its importance is that many examiners read the conclusion first. Their impression of the whole thesis, therefore, is coloured by the impression of the final chapter. Even if the chapter is read last, it leaves its mark just before the examiner's report is written. With this in mind, it could be argued that the purpose of the concluding chapter is to hammer home a clear message:

This is a well-constructed, well-carried out and
well-reported piece of research that results in
an identifiable and significant contribution to
the sum of knowledge.

All the thesis is a stage / And all the research subjects merely players?
While it would be foolish to pretend that this is the answer to all problems, here is one approach to writing a concluding chapter. If you have done most of the writing-up in one place (usually in front of the computer!) it may also help to sketch out the final chapter somewhere completely different - in the park, or in a café - to help achieve a different viewpoint.

Try to forget the literature review, the methodology and the data; they are, temporarily, irrelevant. Separate yourself from the details by imagining you are watching a play, as a theatre critic. On stage are your subjects, behaving in the ways that your research has shown they do. Note down what you observe, as a critical, analytical outsider, and compile the outline of your review.

• Start with a summary of the 'plot' as an introduction (that is, the main findings of what your subjects do)
• write a section on each of the 'plot threads' (or findings), and describe and discuss each one
• add a short section on the shortcomings of the study/play/production. End this with a statement that reiterates the validity and reliability of the findings (avoid giving the impression that the play is a complete flop!)
• suggest elements for possible future research to expand your own work and make it even more useful
• end with a paragraph saying why this (in theatrical terms) is a fabulous, groundbreaking production that everyone should see. In academic terms, state the importance and significance of your research; this is the short, snappy version that is going to be quoted in the play's publicity ("overturns the accepted view of ... ", "reveals that the attitudes of ... are instrumental in ...").
• Leave the auditorium and, in the best drama critic's tradition, have a stiff drink. You've earned one - after all, you still have to write the chapter, but you may now have the start of an outline!
  

I like this alot! (sic)

Follow this link for Allie Brosh's ingenious (and very funny) take on the misuse of "a lot":

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/04/alot-is-better-than-you-at-everything.html

Wait - for? on?

A BBC radio sports commentator announced today that Manchester United was "waiting on the result of a scan on Wes Brown's foot".

The use of "wait on" instead of "wait for" or "await" is now so common that the battle to preserve the original form is probably already lost, even though the BBC website did announce more elegantly - and accurately - "Manchester United await Wes Brown foot injury verdict".

Why not accept this change as another example of natural, continuous linguistic evolution? The reason for resisting is that we are losing the ability to express the difference between two separate actions and thereby colluding in the impoverishment of our means of expression.

To "wait on" meant, until recently, either to serve someone, usually at table*, or to pay a respectful visit to. "Wait for" had the meaning of deferring an action, or of expectation (the ferry waited for the train to arrive, Sarah was waiting for her sister). Now that "waits on" is used for both, we cannot be sure whether Sarah is expecting her sister to arrive, or whether she is working in a restaurant.

Resist, resist!



* Those with long memories may recall the time when a waiter, in the UK, "waited at" table and "waited on" table only in the USA. I have not forgotten either, but because this post already resembled the ranting of a pedant, I forbore to mention it!

Affect - or effect?

I wish I had made a note of some the dozens of examples of the incorrect use of 'affect' and 'effect'. Sadly, I did not. You do not have search very hard to find the two confused, however, and if books and newspapers use these words interchangeably it makes it doubly hard for the rest of us to remember.

The basic rule is simple:

• affect is nearly always a verb
  (e.g. the movement of the boat affected her balance). It means to influence.
• effect is nearly always a noun
  (e.g. the effect of the weather was noticeable). It means result, or occasionally possessions (e.g. her personal effects).

One way of remembering this is that affect means action.

The two words are frequently found in academic writing, which is generally rich in influences and results.

There are, of course, exceptions. This is English after all, so nothing is straightforward. 'To effect' means to make, or to accomplish; 'an affect' can be used in psychology to mean an emotion. If you use the basic rule, though, it will prove right 19 times out of 20 - probably a better rate of success than many newspapers!

When to send a thesis for editing?

Every few weeks a doctoral student emails to ask at what stage their thesis should be sent for editing. The answer is simple: as late as possible, because if you introduce amendments and additions afterwards there is a risk of introducing mistakes as well.

Although the answer is simple, the logic behind it bears examination and comes down to the role of the thesis editor.

Where a doctoral thesis is concerned, the student is demonstrating the ability to prepare, carry out and report a piece of original research according to the conventions in force. The process is guided by a supervisor who gives expert advice. It has something in common with the mediaeval apprentice's masterpiece, produced to prove proficiency in the skills taught by the master craftsman. The thesis has been researched and written up, chapters have been discussed, reshaped, returned and honed. It is only at the very last stage that the editor should become involved.

Why so late? Because the thesis editor's role is, of course, neither to write nor to guide: it is to advise on presentation, not on content, which is why the content needs to be finalised before editing starts.

The editor makes sure that the examiners can read the thesis with their attention focused on the research, without being sidetracked and annoyed by errors of presentation. This final stage therefore addresses the detail: the typing errors, layout problems, grammatical slips, inconsistencies, confused sentences, referencing howlers and other minutiae. Making changes after editing is likely to introduce new errors, an odd fingerprint or two to mar the highly polished surface of the masterpiece.

Although editing the thesis is the last stage, this does not mean the last minute! Any editor worth their salt is likely to have a schedule of jobs booked in, and is unlikely to be waiting to take on your work at a moment's notice. If that sounds heartfelt it is: definitely a sore point and possibly the subject of another post!

References - the last word.

While I am enjoying a brief respite from the reality of checking Lists of References, I shall outline the last stage of my method of presenting them as well as is practicable: ensuring that the entries are in the right order.

"Alphabetical" is, sadly, too obvious an answer! As always, there are subtleties and variations. The APA (American Psychological Association) system, for instance, has rules all of its own. Unless you have specific guidance, however, the following is a good guide:

1. Alphabetical order. Treat all names beginning with Mc, Mac and M' as though they start with Mac.
   
2. Publications by a single author are placed in date order, using a lower case suffix (2008a, 2008b and so on) to distinguish items published in the same year. 2008a should be the one that is referenced first in the text.
3. After these come publications by the same author in conjunction with one co-author, arranged alphabetically by the co-author's name and then by date.
4. Next are publications by the first authors with two or more colleagues, in alphabetical and then chronological order as above. These will of course appear in the text as Author et al., 2008.

So this translates as:

Marvin, P.A. (1978) They Are All Out to Get Me. Ursa Beta Minor: Megadodo.
Marvin, P.A. (2002) The Dummy's Guide to Paranoia. Ursa Beta Minor: Megadodo.
Marvin, P.A. and Beeblebrox, Z. (2008) Shades: the ultimate frontier. Alpha Centauri: Vogon Unlimited.
Marvin, P.A. and Slartibartfast, G. (2003) Award-winning Coastal Design: the significance of glaciation. Magrathea: CamTim Publications.
Marvin, P.A., Prefect, F. and Dent, A. (2005) 999 Uses for a Towel. New York: Vogon Books.

If you think the examples are not only eccentric but inexplicable you have cannot have read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams, and you are missing out!