We’re at the point now in our twice-yearly publishing cycle when the editorial types sit down with the othertorial types to work with authors on deciding the most appropriate titles for their forthcoming books. There’s much to consider in each case: What’s the book about? How well known is the topic? Who is the audience for the book? What’s the author’s reputation? What’s his or her writing style? And so on. In the following excerpt from Stylish Academic Writing, which we published this Spring, Helen Sword explains the importance of considering “paratext” and “subtext” in academic titling.
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Like a hat on a head or the front door to a house, the title of an academic article offers a powerful first impression. Is the title dry, technical, straightforward? Most likely, the author’s main goal is to transmit research data as efficiently as possible. Does the title contain opaque disciplinary jargon? Perhaps the author unconsciously hopes to impress us, whether by appealing to a shared expertise (“You and I are members of an exclusive club”) or by reminding us of our ignorance (“If you can’t even understand my title, don’t bother reading any further”). Is the title amusing, intriguing, provocative? Here is an author who is working hard to catch our gaze, engage our interest, and draw us in. In many disciplines, however, such a move goes against the academic grain and even contains a significant element of risk: a “catchy” title might well be regarded by colleagues as frivolous and unscholarly.
Several years ago, I attended a higher education research conference at which a presentation titled “Evaluating the E-learning Guidelines Implementation Project: Formative and Process Evaluations” was offered at the same time as one called “ ‘Throwing a Sheep’ at Marshall McLuhan.” Guess which session drew the bigger audience? “Throwing a sheep” is a method of getting someone’s attention on the popular social-networking Web site Facebook; Marshall McLuhan is the educator and media theorist who famously coined the phrases “global village” and “the medium is the message.” A delegate at a conference on higher education research could thus reasonably surmise that a presentation containing the phrases “throwing a sheep” and “Marshall McLuhan” would explore the role of social-networking Web sites in university teaching and learning. That expectation was confirmed in the conference program, in which a lively abstract spelled out the main argument of the presentation, gave further hints of the author’s penchant for quoting colorful student argot (“pinch, moon, drop kick, spank, poke, b#%*! slap, drunk dial”), and asked a series of questions aimed at the expected audience of educators and educational theorists.
The “throwing a sheep” example illustrates the crucial function of the paratext in academic titling. Described by literary theorist Gérard Genette as a zone of transition and transaction between “text and non-text,” a paratext consists of all the extratextual matter that accompanies and packages a text: for example, the cover of a book, the publisher’s blurb, the author’s name, the preface, the dedication, the typography, and the illustrations. Titles belong both to text and paratext; they shape our reading of the text yet are also inflected by other paratextual elements. In the case of the “throwing a sheep” talk, the inclusion of a detailed abstract in the conference program freed up the presenter to concoct a playful but enigmatic title, secure in the knowledge that further information about the session could easily be accessed elsewhere. Moreover, the title of the conference—“Tertiary Education Research”— supplied the attendees with additional paratextual clues. Delegates at a higher education research conference would naturally expect all the presentations to address aspects of higher education research; thus, there was no need for the presenter to add a ponderous explanatory subtitle containing the words “higher education research.”
Supplementing the role of the paratext is a title’s subtext, which consists of messages from the author that are not stated directly in words but can be inferred by an attentive reader. The subtext of “‘Throwing a Sheep’ at Marshall McLuhan” might read something like this: “I am the kind of academic who likes to entertain and engage an audience. This session will be playful, not plodding. You can expect me to use lots of concrete examples and visual illustrations.” Whether the presentation will live up to these expectations is, of course, another matter—and one that stylish authors need to take into consideration as part of the titling process. If you run a spartan hotel, you probably should not advertise it with an ornate front door.
Attention to paratext and subtext can help academic writers make more thoughtful—and in some cases more daring—decisions about their titles. A scientist presenting new research findings to specialist colleagues might choose a serious, functional title studded with specialist terminology (subtext: “You can trust my results because my research has been conducted according to the highest scientific standards”). However, when invited to participate in a university lecture series aimed at members of the general public, the same scientist faces a wider range of choices—and a correspondingly greater variety of possible subtexts. The title could be purely informational, describing the topic of the lecture in clear and simple terms (subtext: “My lecture will be informative and lucid, but possibly rather dull”). It could be stuffed full of scientific jargon (subtext: “You will have to work very hard to understand me”). It could be playful (“I want to entertain you”), alliterative (“My talk, like my title, will be carefully crafted”), and/or provocative (“I want to make you think”). Every one of these choices carries both benefits and risks; the same subtext that attracts one reader could easily turn another off. Most undergraduates learn to negotiate this stylistic dilemma fairly quickly: the safest title is the one their teacher will approve of. Similarly, graduate students writing a thesis or dissertation know they need to satisfy only a few readers (subtext: “I am one of you now. I know the rules of the game; please admit me to your disciplinary fraternity”). As an academic writer’s potential audience expands, however, so does the range of choices.
(Electronically reproduced from Stylish Academic Writing, by Helen Sword, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Copyright © 2012 by Helen Sword. All rights reserved.)
