Jeffery Harvey
A colleague gifted this title to me after having picked it up at a conference. I sat on it for a while, not particularly in the mood to read what appeared to be a handbook. Further, where I teach, we advocate for the use of AI as a "learning partner." Usage as defined in this book felt more utilitarian.
Further, I have a trained relationship with AI. As a consultant working with public and private sector entities, AI is not going anywhere, and it is fast becoming ubiquitous. The expectation is that work is AI-supported. I have been working with various AI tools to attempt to find where it makes things easier or more efficient, without robbing me of my voice (through writing). Academically, my usage is more reflective, and while it pushes my thinking, it creates substantial validation work. I have found benefits in both settings, but I find myself concerned about the environmental implications. I am concerned about access to AI exacerbating various inequities. Of course, I am concerned that usage stunts critical thinking and devalues the authenticity of art.
All of that comes together as I think about this text.
Once I paused my general unease, I was pleasantly surprised.
Bowen and Watson strike a balance between pure utility and design, reflection, and human development. I appreciated that. It was a handbook in the sense that there were numerous sample prompt and assignment ideas. Yet, I found myself in the proper headspace to look at those prompts and ideas as just that - prompts and ideas. They were thought-provoking than constraining. I thought about them through the lenses of the courses I teach (and can see myself teaching soon). The authors are certainly believers, but they frequently note the importance of preserving one's voice. They talk of AI extending and supplementing one's skills, not replacing them. They put the responsibility for ensuring access on the professors who guide student usage. The authors also pointed out that "easy" is a mirage when it comes to AI. The prompt engineering necessary to get it to churn out B+ or higher-level work is deceptively simple (something validating by my own experience).
I can't yet say if we've opened the door for the devil, but this stranger at our table is indeed strange. Work is necessary to make AI a true net good, when all things are considered. I hope we remain mindful of that.
A colleague gifted this title to me after having picked it up at a conference. I sat on it for a while, not particularly in the mood to read what appeared to be a handbook. Further, where I teach, we advocate for the use of AI as a "learning partner." Usage as defined in this book felt more utilitarian.
Further, I have a trained relationship with AI. As a consultant working with public and private sector entities, AI is not going anywhere, and it is fast becoming ubiquitous. The expectation is that work is AI-supported. I have been working with various AI tools to attempt to find where it makes things easier or more efficient, without robbing me of my voice (through writing). Academically, my usage is more reflective, and while it pushes my thinking, it creates substantial validation work. I have found benefits in both settings, but I find myself concerned about the environmental implications. I am concerned about access to AI exacerbating various inequities. Of course, I am concerned that usage stunts critical thinking and devalues the authenticity of art.
All of that comes together as I think about this text.
Once I paused my general unease, I was pleasantly surprised.
Bowen and Watson strike a balance between pure utility and design, reflection, and human development. I appreciated that. It was a handbook in the sense that there were numerous sample prompt and assignment ideas. Yet, I found myself in the proper headspace to look at those prompts and ideas as just that - prompts and ideas. They were thought-provoking than constraining. I thought about them through the lenses of the courses I teach (and can see myself teaching soon). The authors are certainly believers, but they frequently note the importance of preserving one's voice. They talk of AI extending and supplementing one's skills, not replacing them. They put the responsibility for ensuring access on the professors who guide student usage. The authors also pointed out that "easy" is a mirage when it comes to AI. The prompt engineering necessary to get it to churn out B+ or higher-level work is deceptively simple (something validating by my own experience).
I can't yet say if we've opened the door for the devil, but this stranger at our table is indeed strange. Work is necessary to make AI a true net good, when all things are considered. I hope we remain mindful of that.
Watch for the Light
As with any collection of devotionals, some will land and others will miss. I was pleasantly surprised at the depth of reflection prompted by many of these writings. I found them introspective and challenging, which for me, is a welcome change from the overt and blind praise offered by many devotions. These certainly were praiseful of God and the newborn babe, but they shifted the focus to what it means to follow Jesus. It was a call to incorporate faith into one's life - going far beyond asking for prayers on social media or lashing out at whatever the dominant (and modern) powers suggest should be an object worthy of Christian faith.
As with any collection of devotionals, some will land and others will miss. I was pleasantly surprised at the depth of reflection prompted by many of these writings. I found them introspective and challenging, which for me, is a welcome change from the overt and blind praise offered by many devotions. These certainly were praiseful of God and the newborn babe, but they shifted the focus to what it means to follow Jesus. It was a call to incorporate faith into one's life - going far beyond asking for prayers on social media or lashing out at whatever the dominant (and modern) powers suggest should be an object worthy of Christian faith.
I came across Jackall's Moral Mazes as a citation in a research article discussing the use of discourse in management. From that standpoint, I tend to agree with what I read somewhere that one of the key findings of Jackall's text is the manager's role in manipulating symbols.
I was interested in this piece at the start, but that interest turned into a sort of morbid curiosity. I've read texts where the author took a contrarian position and wrote with a pessimistic or overly didactic tone. Moral Mazes was not that. Jackall writes with what I can only call bemusement at the lengths to which managers in a bureaucracy will go to protect themselves and their confidants. I was taken aback at that stance, not in a bad way, but in such a way that I became interested in what Jackall would write next.
I take note of the original publication (though I read a re-issued edition) and the cultural tenor of that era. Jackall does not shy away from having "the pretty secretary" as a perk of upper-level management, and similarly, even though he will often acknowledge men and women in management roles, he clearly acquiesces to the majority of management roles being filled by men at that time as somehow "right." There's a passage where he writes about "ozone depletion theory" in skeptical terms, clearly as was likely the case with his subjects. Ultimately, while the text is a study of the "moral rules-in-use" (to use something akin to Jackall's own words) in corporations and Jackall keeps the content presumably accurate to his data, it reads like a study of bureaucracy commissions by an in-control bureaucracy somewhere behind the scenes.
With all of that said, I am considering using the introduction and first chapter as well as the author's note at the end of the text in a qualitative research course. I appreciated the narrative constructed from 140+ interviews with managers, and I thought Jackall did an acceptable job of describing his data collection. Students often can't make sense of how qualitative data collection can transpire across a multi-year period, and this book is an example of that.
I'm glad I stuck with it and read this one. I can't say that I'd recommend it in its entirety to many, but this one has its place.
I came across Jackall's Moral Mazes as a citation in a research article discussing the use of discourse in management. From that standpoint, I tend to agree with what I read somewhere that one of the key findings of Jackall's text is the manager's role in manipulating symbols.
I was interested in this piece at the start, but that interest turned into a sort of morbid curiosity. I've read texts where the author took a contrarian position and wrote with a pessimistic or overly didactic tone. Moral Mazes was not that. Jackall writes with what I can only call bemusement at the lengths to which managers in a bureaucracy will go to protect themselves and their confidants. I was taken aback at that stance, not in a bad way, but in such a way that I became interested in what Jackall would write next.
I take note of the original publication (though I read a re-issued edition) and the cultural tenor of that era. Jackall does not shy away from having "the pretty secretary" as a perk of upper-level management, and similarly, even though he will often acknowledge men and women in management roles, he clearly acquiesces to the majority of management roles being filled by men at that time as somehow "right." There's a passage where he writes about "ozone depletion theory" in skeptical terms, clearly as was likely the case with his subjects. Ultimately, while the text is a study of the "moral rules-in-use" (to use something akin to Jackall's own words) in corporations and Jackall keeps the content presumably accurate to his data, it reads like a study of bureaucracy commissions by an in-control bureaucracy somewhere behind the scenes.
With all of that said, I am considering using the introduction and first chapter as well as the author's note at the end of the text in a qualitative research course. I appreciated the narrative constructed from 140+ interviews with managers, and I thought Jackall did an acceptable job of describing his data collection. Students often can't make sense of how qualitative data collection can transpire across a multi-year period, and this book is an example of that.
I'm glad I stuck with it and read this one. I can't say that I'd recommend it in its entirety to many, but this one has its place.
It's hard for me to write a review for this book. There were passages I really liked, and many phrases and statements resonated with me. My issue was the premise that there would be 15 leadership lessons, but each of the 15 lessons read like a series of lessons in and of themselves. As such, I have a hard time imagining anyone being able to commit the majority of this book to memory and then implementing its lessons.
I'll admit I had no knowledge of the All Blacks (not being a rugby fan nor having access to extensive rugby coverage in the U.S.), so that part of the book was interesting to me. I appreciated learning a little bit about the Maori and New Zealand culture.
So, here I am again - finding difficult writing a review. I study leadership, and I consciously try to not overly scholarly, leadership studies expectations on all leadership books. I recognize there are authors who provide contributions to the business literature with observational books like this. It's clear the author is insightful, and it's clear that he was strongly influenced by his work with the All Blacks. However, the book - as written - does not demonstrate a lot of rigor within the leadership canon. It falls into a category of book like Collin's Good to Great; I recognize the author's scholarly efforts underneath it, but I struggle with the writing (even though I know it's targeting a wider audience). As I read the book, I was able to name my issue with the chapters. The author chose to present material in a quasi-checklist fashion. That's okay, but many of the chapters read like pithy leadership seminar quotes, with one quick phrase serving as the "support" for the previous pithy phrase. The chapters unfolded like an old-school Twitter thread, 140 characters at a time.
In conclusion, not a bad book - not a great book in my estimation...it squarely earns the middle of the road ranking. I mean no disrespect to Kerr; I appreciate his efforts. It's just that the text, as presented, didn't land as solidly as it could have.
It's hard for me to write a review for this book. There were passages I really liked, and many phrases and statements resonated with me. My issue was the premise that there would be 15 leadership lessons, but each of the 15 lessons read like a series of lessons in and of themselves. As such, I have a hard time imagining anyone being able to commit the majority of this book to memory and then implementing its lessons.
I'll admit I had no knowledge of the All Blacks (not being a rugby fan nor having access to extensive rugby coverage in the U.S.), so that part of the book was interesting to me. I appreciated learning a little bit about the Maori and New Zealand culture.
So, here I am again - finding difficult writing a review. I study leadership, and I consciously try to not overly scholarly, leadership studies expectations on all leadership books. I recognize there are authors who provide contributions to the business literature with observational books like this. It's clear the author is insightful, and it's clear that he was strongly influenced by his work with the All Blacks. However, the book - as written - does not demonstrate a lot of rigor within the leadership canon. It falls into a category of book like Collin's Good to Great; I recognize the author's scholarly efforts underneath it, but I struggle with the writing (even though I know it's targeting a wider audience). As I read the book, I was able to name my issue with the chapters. The author chose to present material in a quasi-checklist fashion. That's okay, but many of the chapters read like pithy leadership seminar quotes, with one quick phrase serving as the "support" for the previous pithy phrase. The chapters unfolded like an old-school Twitter thread, 140 characters at a time.
In conclusion, not a bad book - not a great book in my estimation...it squarely earns the middle of the road ranking. I mean no disrespect to Kerr; I appreciate his efforts. It's just that the text, as presented, didn't land as solidly as it could have.
The Gospel of Mary
I have been intrigued by the stories of Jesus ("gospels") that do not appear in the Bible, not because I'm looking for some sort of schism in the church or trying to stoke any type of controversy. Rather, they purport to tell more of the story of Jesus and his teachings - that's intriguing. I don't consider myself a Biblical scholar by any stretch, but I appreciated the tone that Mattison took with his translation and the explanation for it. He, too, was not looking for any type of "grand conspiracy" for not including Mary's gospel in the Bible. He looked for parallels with Biblical material and approached the piece as a means of offering additional clarity (or, at least...depth) to one's understanding of the teachings of Jesus.
I read the piece as having three main themes: being an authentic human, the beauty of the mind we authentic humans have, and confronting personal demons. I'm reaching a bit with that last one because, admittedly, I had trouble following the passages about the ascension of the soul (and its confronting seven powers). Mattison's explanations (and citations of others who have transcribed the work) were very helpful here. I lean toward the allegorical approach taken by some of the cited scholars, but as Mattison suggests, interpretations can only be partial until more of the manuscript surfaces.
Mattison points us toward a focus on what is eternal (versus what is temporary - i.e., physical existence) in the beginning of the text. I find that message to be very consistent with Biblical material and, dare I say, a helpful spin on it. I also find my second noted theme, the beauty of the mind, to be an acknowledgement that human minds are what perceive the divine while physically existing. Perhaps that a bit of a challenge to the notion of the soul as perceiving the divine (or even the heart), but again, one's mind is what helps her/his soul to navigate the physical world, so why wouldn't it be what would see (and interpret) visions?
As personal commentary, I take no issue with Jesus having had female followers/disciples, and I don't have an issue with one of those women writing down their experiences with Jesus. (I acknowledge the debate about which Mary is the actual author of this text, though I tend to agree with scholars that it is likely Mary Magdalene.) I also appreciate the depiction of the other disciples in this writing. Yes, they bicker and they challenge Mary's tale (perhaps unnecessarily vigorously), but the writing shows them as people dealing with radical (for the time), paradigm-shifting teaching, just as they had for the entirety of the time they followed Jesus. It seems natural for their to be disagreements between groups, even bickering. It also paints a consistent picture of Peter if we remember that he was one who took extra convincing concerning many of Jesus's lessons.
In summary, this translation is a quick, easy and informative read. I found it hopeful and thought-provoking. I won't recommend all read it, but if you have a curiosity about the "extra gospels," then this translation is an useful overview of Mary's "gospel."
I have been intrigued by the stories of Jesus ("gospels") that do not appear in the Bible, not because I'm looking for some sort of schism in the church or trying to stoke any type of controversy. Rather, they purport to tell more of the story of Jesus and his teachings - that's intriguing. I don't consider myself a Biblical scholar by any stretch, but I appreciated the tone that Mattison took with his translation and the explanation for it. He, too, was not looking for any type of "grand conspiracy" for not including Mary's gospel in the Bible. He looked for parallels with Biblical material and approached the piece as a means of offering additional clarity (or, at least...depth) to one's understanding of the teachings of Jesus.
I read the piece as having three main themes: being an authentic human, the beauty of the mind we authentic humans have, and confronting personal demons. I'm reaching a bit with that last one because, admittedly, I had trouble following the passages about the ascension of the soul (and its confronting seven powers). Mattison's explanations (and citations of others who have transcribed the work) were very helpful here. I lean toward the allegorical approach taken by some of the cited scholars, but as Mattison suggests, interpretations can only be partial until more of the manuscript surfaces.
Mattison points us toward a focus on what is eternal (versus what is temporary - i.e., physical existence) in the beginning of the text. I find that message to be very consistent with Biblical material and, dare I say, a helpful spin on it. I also find my second noted theme, the beauty of the mind, to be an acknowledgement that human minds are what perceive the divine while physically existing. Perhaps that a bit of a challenge to the notion of the soul as perceiving the divine (or even the heart), but again, one's mind is what helps her/his soul to navigate the physical world, so why wouldn't it be what would see (and interpret) visions?
As personal commentary, I take no issue with Jesus having had female followers/disciples, and I don't have an issue with one of those women writing down their experiences with Jesus. (I acknowledge the debate about which Mary is the actual author of this text, though I tend to agree with scholars that it is likely Mary Magdalene.) I also appreciate the depiction of the other disciples in this writing. Yes, they bicker and they challenge Mary's tale (perhaps unnecessarily vigorously), but the writing shows them as people dealing with radical (for the time), paradigm-shifting teaching, just as they had for the entirety of the time they followed Jesus. It seems natural for their to be disagreements between groups, even bickering. It also paints a consistent picture of Peter if we remember that he was one who took extra convincing concerning many of Jesus's lessons.
In summary, this translation is a quick, easy and informative read. I found it hopeful and thought-provoking. I won't recommend all read it, but if you have a curiosity about the "extra gospels," then this translation is an useful overview of Mary's "gospel."
The Gospel of Mary
I have been intrigued by the stories of Jesus ("gospels") that do not appear in the Bible, not because I'm looking for some sort of schism in the church or trying to stoke any type of controversy. Rather, they purport to tell more of the story of Jesus and his teachings - that's intriguing. I don't consider myself a Biblical scholar by any stretch, but I appreciated the tone that Mattison took with his translation and the explanation for it. He, too, was not looking for any type of "grand conspiracy" for not including Mary's gospel in the Bible. He looked for parallels with Biblical material and approached the piece as a means of offering additional clarity (or, at least...depth) to one's understanding of the teachings of Jesus.
I read the piece as having three main themes: being an authentic human, the beauty of the mind we authentic humans have, and confronting personal demons. I'm reaching a bit with that last one because, admittedly, I had trouble following the passages about the ascension of the soul (and its confronting seven powers). Mattison's explanations (and citations of others who have transcribed the work) were very helpful here. I lean toward the allegorical approach taken by some of the cited scholars, but as Mattison suggests, interpretations can only be partial until more of the manuscript surfaces.
Mattison points us toward a focus on what is eternal (versus what is temporary - i.e., physical existence) in the beginning of the text. I find that message to be very consistent with Biblical material and, dare I say, a helpful spin on it. I also find my second noted theme, the beauty of the mind, to be an acknowledgement that human minds are what perceive the divine while physically existing. Perhaps that a bit of a challenge to the notion of the soul as perceiving the divine (or even the heart), but again, one's mind is what helps her/his soul to navigate the physical world, so why wouldn't it be what would see (and interpret) visions?
As personal commentary, I take no issue with Jesus having had female followers/disciples, and I don't have an issue with one of those women writing down their experiences with Jesus. (I acknowledge the debate about which Mary is the actual author of this text, though I tend to agree with scholars that it is likely Mary Magdalene.) I also appreciate the depiction of the other disciples in this writing. Yes, they bicker and they challenge Mary's tale (perhaps unnecessarily vigorously), but the writing shows them as people dealing with radical (for the time), paradigm-shifting teaching, just as they had for the entirety of the time they followed Jesus. It seems natural for their to be disagreements between groups, even bickering. It also paints a consistent picture of Peter if we remember that he was one who took extra convincing concerning many of Jesus's lessons.
In summary, this translation is a quick, easy and informative read. I found it hopeful and thought-provoking. I won't recommend all read it, but if you have a curiosity about the "extra gospels," then this translation is an useful overview of Mary's "gospel."
I have been intrigued by the stories of Jesus ("gospels") that do not appear in the Bible, not because I'm looking for some sort of schism in the church or trying to stoke any type of controversy. Rather, they purport to tell more of the story of Jesus and his teachings - that's intriguing. I don't consider myself a Biblical scholar by any stretch, but I appreciated the tone that Mattison took with his translation and the explanation for it. He, too, was not looking for any type of "grand conspiracy" for not including Mary's gospel in the Bible. He looked for parallels with Biblical material and approached the piece as a means of offering additional clarity (or, at least...depth) to one's understanding of the teachings of Jesus.
I read the piece as having three main themes: being an authentic human, the beauty of the mind we authentic humans have, and confronting personal demons. I'm reaching a bit with that last one because, admittedly, I had trouble following the passages about the ascension of the soul (and its confronting seven powers). Mattison's explanations (and citations of others who have transcribed the work) were very helpful here. I lean toward the allegorical approach taken by some of the cited scholars, but as Mattison suggests, interpretations can only be partial until more of the manuscript surfaces.
Mattison points us toward a focus on what is eternal (versus what is temporary - i.e., physical existence) in the beginning of the text. I find that message to be very consistent with Biblical material and, dare I say, a helpful spin on it. I also find my second noted theme, the beauty of the mind, to be an acknowledgement that human minds are what perceive the divine while physically existing. Perhaps that a bit of a challenge to the notion of the soul as perceiving the divine (or even the heart), but again, one's mind is what helps her/his soul to navigate the physical world, so why wouldn't it be what would see (and interpret) visions?
As personal commentary, I take no issue with Jesus having had female followers/disciples, and I don't have an issue with one of those women writing down their experiences with Jesus. (I acknowledge the debate about which Mary is the actual author of this text, though I tend to agree with scholars that it is likely Mary Magdalene.) I also appreciate the depiction of the other disciples in this writing. Yes, they bicker and they challenge Mary's tale (perhaps unnecessarily vigorously), but the writing shows them as people dealing with radical (for the time), paradigm-shifting teaching, just as they had for the entirety of the time they followed Jesus. It seems natural for their to be disagreements between groups, even bickering. It also paints a consistent picture of Peter if we remember that he was one who took extra convincing concerning many of Jesus's lessons.
In summary, this translation is a quick, easy and informative read. I found it hopeful and thought-provoking. I won't recommend all read it, but if you have a curiosity about the "extra gospels," then this translation is an useful overview of Mary's "gospel."
So, yes...it's a textbook. On qualitative research, at that.
But I still enjoyed it.
I enjoy qualitative research. It's not that I am "for" it at the expensive of the quantitative work, it's just that I believe qualitative research can provide the context that's necessary for really understanding phenomena. Merriam and Tisdell's text is a functional introduction to qualitative research full of helpful advice, graphics, and samples. As the authors note, there is no substitute for getting into the field and doing some qualitative research. Still, having a reference or two on the shelf is handy when it comes time to check one's assumptions.
So, yes...it's a textbook. On qualitative research, at that.
But I still enjoyed it.
I enjoy qualitative research. It's not that I am "for" it at the expensive of the quantitative work, it's just that I believe qualitative research can provide the context that's necessary for really understanding phenomena. Merriam and Tisdell's text is a functional introduction to qualitative research full of helpful advice, graphics, and samples. As the authors note, there is no substitute for getting into the field and doing some qualitative research. Still, having a reference or two on the shelf is handy when it comes time to check one's assumptions.
My thoughts on this one are complicated.
By happenstance, I read it when the story was set, and in one case, I read a journal entry on the day the main character "entered" it.
I'm typically not a science fiction or post-apocalyptic literature fan, though I'm a sucker for a good story. I'm not sure the story is here, though the development of the Lauren Olamina character is rich and layered. I wanted more of that from some other characters, but I get this is the first of two in a series (and, from what I read, potentially was the first of three before Butler's untimely passing). There are eerie elements that read like prognostications on Butler's part, and while one can still hold hope that things won't get that bad, it's not hard to see how it could.
I also have trouble reading novels structured as vignettes, journal entries, flashes, etc. I find myself being lost in the details, trying to remember every little thing on the off chance they're foreshadows for something down the road. Oddly, though, I find the pace of novels structured as such to be too fast for absorption. So, yes, this paragraph definitely describes a "me thing," but I need to make note of it in my review.
One might think that this is a negative review, but as I said, it's complicated. I couldn't put the book down; when I would, I had to force myself to not "just go one more page." I found myself really enjoying the Earthseed verses, and I would have been interested in Lauren's reflection on them. How did she wrestle with the concepts and the language? As the narrator, Lauren notes that she revised them substantially. As such, I would have enjoyed seeing earlier "drafts," or possibly even recreations of the handwritten journal pages as images to see some of the scribbles that we all make when revising our work.
The writer of the afterward shared similar reflections. She said it took her three tries to really dig the book on a personal level. Maybe I'm like that. If so, I'm game for a re-read down the line.
My thoughts on this one are complicated.
By happenstance, I read it when the story was set, and in one case, I read a journal entry on the day the main character "entered" it.
I'm typically not a science fiction or post-apocalyptic literature fan, though I'm a sucker for a good story. I'm not sure the story is here, though the development of the Lauren Olamina character is rich and layered. I wanted more of that from some other characters, but I get this is the first of two in a series (and, from what I read, potentially was the first of three before Butler's untimely passing). There are eerie elements that read like prognostications on Butler's part, and while one can still hold hope that things won't get that bad, it's not hard to see how it could.
I also have trouble reading novels structured as vignettes, journal entries, flashes, etc. I find myself being lost in the details, trying to remember every little thing on the off chance they're foreshadows for something down the road. Oddly, though, I find the pace of novels structured as such to be too fast for absorption. So, yes, this paragraph definitely describes a "me thing," but I need to make note of it in my review.
One might think that this is a negative review, but as I said, it's complicated. I couldn't put the book down; when I would, I had to force myself to not "just go one more page." I found myself really enjoying the Earthseed verses, and I would have been interested in Lauren's reflection on them. How did she wrestle with the concepts and the language? As the narrator, Lauren notes that she revised them substantially. As such, I would have enjoyed seeing earlier "drafts," or possibly even recreations of the handwritten journal pages as images to see some of the scribbles that we all make when revising our work.
The writer of the afterward shared similar reflections. She said it took her three tries to really dig the book on a personal level. Maybe I'm like that. If so, I'm game for a re-read down the line.
I found my copy of On Language when cleaning out a closet. I purchased it in 2001 while with my wife on our honeymoon. At that time, I had grand designs on a master's degree in linguistics that progressed, but never completely panned out.
Still, I am a lover of language and finding this one all dusty at the bottom of a closet was like getting a gift.
It takes me a bit to get back into the swing of Chomsky's writing because he has a bit of snark that is simultaneously engaging and off-putting. The one thing that snark does do, though, is makes reading this feel like being in a conversation. Speaking of conversation, I found the Language and Responsibility section to be the more enjoyable of the two books under this one cover. The interview elements between Chomsky and Ronat ebbed and flowed, focusing on language but not being afraid to touch on numerous other subjects. It was organic and informative (and much faster to read).
I enjoyed the Reflections on Language section, but if I'm being honest, I could take or leave the final chapter. I appreciated the insights and the details, but there were times when the writing felt like a tired man yelling at clouds. I should qualify that statement. Much of the issue was my own unfamiliarity with the writings of the authors to whom Chomsky was responding. I recognize that if (a) I was a working linguist in the 1970s and 1980s or (b) I was more educated and active in the contemporary world of linguistics, these arguments would be more accessible to me. As such, that qualifier is critical. I also recognize that I'm reading a volume that was responsive to the current discourse at the time of its publication 50 years after its original publication - another critical qualifier.
Finally, I want to acknowledge how much I enjoyed reading this through the lens of what has become my academic and professional career. At the time of this review - i.e., early 2025 - I am reading a lot of literature about discursive leadership. The sections of Chomsky's interview with Ronat where they discussed Foucault were fascinating to read against that backdrop, knowing what I've come to understand about (D)iscourse. Thinking of communication (broadly) and its effects on leadership while deconstructing the structure of the language forming "communication" was a fruitful mental exercise. Poet Irene McKinney once wrote something like, "Why should the worm care what it eats?" in a poem called Fodder. I love that poem because it captures the mindset of the bookworm (pun intended). When we read, we can't help but relativize the content to our unfolding experience. Diving into the structure of language, as a tool for communication, which is so important to the act of leading...that's what made my brain smile.
I found my copy of On Language when cleaning out a closet. I purchased it in 2001 while with my wife on our honeymoon. At that time, I had grand designs on a master's degree in linguistics that progressed, but never completely panned out.
Still, I am a lover of language and finding this one all dusty at the bottom of a closet was like getting a gift.
It takes me a bit to get back into the swing of Chomsky's writing because he has a bit of snark that is simultaneously engaging and off-putting. The one thing that snark does do, though, is makes reading this feel like being in a conversation. Speaking of conversation, I found the Language and Responsibility section to be the more enjoyable of the two books under this one cover. The interview elements between Chomsky and Ronat ebbed and flowed, focusing on language but not being afraid to touch on numerous other subjects. It was organic and informative (and much faster to read).
I enjoyed the Reflections on Language section, but if I'm being honest, I could take or leave the final chapter. I appreciated the insights and the details, but there were times when the writing felt like a tired man yelling at clouds. I should qualify that statement. Much of the issue was my own unfamiliarity with the writings of the authors to whom Chomsky was responding. I recognize that if (a) I was a working linguist in the 1970s and 1980s or (b) I was more educated and active in the contemporary world of linguistics, these arguments would be more accessible to me. As such, that qualifier is critical. I also recognize that I'm reading a volume that was responsive to the current discourse at the time of its publication 50 years after its original publication - another critical qualifier.
Finally, I want to acknowledge how much I enjoyed reading this through the lens of what has become my academic and professional career. At the time of this review - i.e., early 2025 - I am reading a lot of literature about discursive leadership. The sections of Chomsky's interview with Ronat where they discussed Foucault were fascinating to read against that backdrop, knowing what I've come to understand about (D)iscourse. Thinking of communication (broadly) and its effects on leadership while deconstructing the structure of the language forming "communication" was a fruitful mental exercise. Poet Irene McKinney once wrote something like, "Why should the worm care what it eats?" in a poem called Fodder. I love that poem because it captures the mindset of the bookworm (pun intended). When we read, we can't help but relativize the content to our unfolding experience. Diving into the structure of language, as a tool for communication, which is so important to the act of leading...that's what made my brain smile.
I have read about adaptive leadership for some time, which includes summaries of it, studies based on it, etc. It only made sense to go back and read the seminal work.
I enjoyed Heifetz's book. I am glad to see that, over time, the five "steps" of adaptive leadership have been given empirical attention because, at a basic level (and once one accepts the premise that adaptive challenges are those that require leadership while all others require management or technical solutions), they are intuitive. In particular, it's difficult to "identify the adaptive challenge," and I'm reminded of the readings and reflections I've done on discursive modes of leadership. There's a wonderful opportunity to utilize discursive tools to defined the adaptive challenge. "Give the work back to the people" also resonates with me. As defined herein, there is some ambiguity, but generally getting a team to align behind a challenge and work - participatively - toward a resolution are elements of leadership, broadly defined (and well beyond just the work of "adaptive leadership").
I often have a weird feeling when reading a book from before that is filled with real-life examples featuring actors whose futures we know. This book appeared in 1994, and I can't help but read the passages on President Carter without knowing about his time from the 90s to the recent present. This book does not fall victim to the fate of a book like Collin's Good to Great because of the future performance of featured firms, but I felt similar in reading it.
My explorations of adaptive leadership are not done. I'll read Heifetz's follow-up, and I'll continue reading more empirical considerations of the adaptive style. My interests ensure that I'll consider adaptive leadership through a discursive lens.
I have read about adaptive leadership for some time, which includes summaries of it, studies based on it, etc. It only made sense to go back and read the seminal work.
I enjoyed Heifetz's book. I am glad to see that, over time, the five "steps" of adaptive leadership have been given empirical attention because, at a basic level (and once one accepts the premise that adaptive challenges are those that require leadership while all others require management or technical solutions), they are intuitive. In particular, it's difficult to "identify the adaptive challenge," and I'm reminded of the readings and reflections I've done on discursive modes of leadership. There's a wonderful opportunity to utilize discursive tools to defined the adaptive challenge. "Give the work back to the people" also resonates with me. As defined herein, there is some ambiguity, but generally getting a team to align behind a challenge and work - participatively - toward a resolution are elements of leadership, broadly defined (and well beyond just the work of "adaptive leadership").
I often have a weird feeling when reading a book from before that is filled with real-life examples featuring actors whose futures we know. This book appeared in 1994, and I can't help but read the passages on President Carter without knowing about his time from the 90s to the recent present. This book does not fall victim to the fate of a book like Collin's Good to Great because of the future performance of featured firms, but I felt similar in reading it.
My explorations of adaptive leadership are not done. I'll read Heifetz's follow-up, and I'll continue reading more empirical considerations of the adaptive style. My interests ensure that I'll consider adaptive leadership through a discursive lens.
After a long time and much gnashing of teeth, I come to the end of The Brothers Karamazov. My thoughts on it are complicated.
Do I find this one worthy of its "classic" status? No, not really. Yet, I recognize that I am not well versed on the Russian history I imagine Dostoevsky integrates through conversations between characters, references to other parts of the country, or even satirically. Maybe there really is more going on with it.
I find long passages and tangents unnecessary. The centrality of Father Zossima, followed, after the monk's death, Ilusha, are examples. They are interesting, but they drag the pace of the novel down to excruciatingly slow. This book is at its best in the scenes where the investigators question Mitya and even Book 12 as the trial unfolds.
The narrator's voice also confounds me. It is an external voice, and I am comfortable with that. As the novel progresses, though, the narrator becomes more and more capable of interpreting the thoughts of the characters. For me, it is jarring, and it pulls me away from thinking of the narrator as someone else that resides in their town.
Still, though, I find myself glad to have read it. It came to me as a title on a "100 books to read" list, and I'll readily admit that I would not have otherwise picked it up. My goal by working through said list was exactly that: to pick up books I otherwise would have no reason to want to read. It brings to mind how limited our (i.e., the western mindset of the U.S.) understanding of pre-Soviet Russian history is. I also find myself reflecting on the image of Dostoevsky portrayed by friends and family. The writing is not miserable. The story itself (and the accompanying storytelling) were not terrible. I can see where he could have a tendency to dive into period-specific Russian context, that is, commentary on those events that were current and widely-known at the time the novel was published. Familiarizing oneself with that history could be helpful, but a heavy lift for the casual reader.
After a long time and much gnashing of teeth, I come to the end of The Brothers Karamazov. My thoughts on it are complicated.
Do I find this one worthy of its "classic" status? No, not really. Yet, I recognize that I am not well versed on the Russian history I imagine Dostoevsky integrates through conversations between characters, references to other parts of the country, or even satirically. Maybe there really is more going on with it.
I find long passages and tangents unnecessary. The centrality of Father Zossima, followed, after the monk's death, Ilusha, are examples. They are interesting, but they drag the pace of the novel down to excruciatingly slow. This book is at its best in the scenes where the investigators question Mitya and even Book 12 as the trial unfolds.
The narrator's voice also confounds me. It is an external voice, and I am comfortable with that. As the novel progresses, though, the narrator becomes more and more capable of interpreting the thoughts of the characters. For me, it is jarring, and it pulls me away from thinking of the narrator as someone else that resides in their town.
Still, though, I find myself glad to have read it. It came to me as a title on a "100 books to read" list, and I'll readily admit that I would not have otherwise picked it up. My goal by working through said list was exactly that: to pick up books I otherwise would have no reason to want to read. It brings to mind how limited our (i.e., the western mindset of the U.S.) understanding of pre-Soviet Russian history is. I also find myself reflecting on the image of Dostoevsky portrayed by friends and family. The writing is not miserable. The story itself (and the accompanying storytelling) were not terrible. I can see where he could have a tendency to dive into period-specific Russian context, that is, commentary on those events that were current and widely-known at the time the novel was published. Familiarizing oneself with that history could be helpful, but a heavy lift for the casual reader.
I enjoyed this text immensely. Long before undertaking graduate study in strategic and executive leadership, I studied linguistics. I've always been a fan of language, and the first 20 years of my career saw that fandom evolve into being a fan of the many uses of language. That, in a nutshell, is why discursive leadership piqued my interest. I've read several of Fairhurst's article on the framing, communications, discourse, and organizational discourse analysis (ODA), so I was excited to dive into this volume.
It did not disappoint. Fairhurst does a great job of making the abstract accessible, primarily through example. Her extended use of the Officer Conway example, for instance, helps the reader to not only understand the initial idea, but also to build on that understanding ("setting it," so to speak). The work is thoroughly cited, leaving the readers with an interest with a trove of future readings.
The tone of this book, though, is the star. When I work with my students, there's an implicit, albeit misguided, understanding that theories of (or approaches to) leadership replace one another chronologically. Framing the discursive approach as a stand-alone concept OR a complement to leadership psychology study was insightful and skillful. I find myself thinking about certain approaches as "what leadership is" and others as "how leadership happens." I try to convey that to students (with, admittedly mixed results), yet the way Fairhurst approaches that conversation in the opening and concluding chapters of this text give me new ways of going into it with future students.
This review was written right after finishing the text. I journaled along the way, jotting down general notes, connection to various research projects of my own, and insightful passages. I'll go through those in due time. But for now, my first blush of this one is a strong recommendation to anyone who is interested in the communicative aspects of leadership or how leadership happens.
I enjoyed this text immensely. Long before undertaking graduate study in strategic and executive leadership, I studied linguistics. I've always been a fan of language, and the first 20 years of my career saw that fandom evolve into being a fan of the many uses of language. That, in a nutshell, is why discursive leadership piqued my interest. I've read several of Fairhurst's article on the framing, communications, discourse, and organizational discourse analysis (ODA), so I was excited to dive into this volume.
It did not disappoint. Fairhurst does a great job of making the abstract accessible, primarily through example. Her extended use of the Officer Conway example, for instance, helps the reader to not only understand the initial idea, but also to build on that understanding ("setting it," so to speak). The work is thoroughly cited, leaving the readers with an interest with a trove of future readings.
The tone of this book, though, is the star. When I work with my students, there's an implicit, albeit misguided, understanding that theories of (or approaches to) leadership replace one another chronologically. Framing the discursive approach as a stand-alone concept OR a complement to leadership psychology study was insightful and skillful. I find myself thinking about certain approaches as "what leadership is" and others as "how leadership happens." I try to convey that to students (with, admittedly mixed results), yet the way Fairhurst approaches that conversation in the opening and concluding chapters of this text give me new ways of going into it with future students.
This review was written right after finishing the text. I journaled along the way, jotting down general notes, connection to various research projects of my own, and insightful passages. I'll go through those in due time. But for now, my first blush of this one is a strong recommendation to anyone who is interested in the communicative aspects of leadership or how leadership happens.