The Bridge

In "The Order of Things" (1994), Foucault talks about the “non-place of language”. I am weirdly fond of its application to communication generally (i.e., that there’s rather a void between the matters of language and the matter that language describes); yet, after repeated efforts at composing work emails, I have begun to wonder about intersubjective aspects of this non-place. Thing is, my endless email exertion is always about tone, and it occurs to me that this struggle is invariably resolved inside my reader’s mind—Yes, it is there that my carefully chosen words condense and evaporate! And what most and least accessible, often evanescent (aren't we all?) and unequivocal "non-place" of a stomping ground could otherwise be imagined?

But it’s not just writers that frequent these mercurial “paths”—we all do it, every time we speak. If tone is how I say what I say, the pressing question remains, How will you hear/read what I say?

It's not simple, is it? Understanding runs like a river between writers and readers, and as such, I assert that, where tone is concerned, the genre of a text can be a bridge over that river.

What I mean is, writing in a genre allows you to use the tone your reader expects. In an academic paper, your reader expects you to be well read, informed, organised, and informative. Business communications also inform, but they may also request. I'm sure you get the idea—tone is entangled with purpose, and it matters in constructing understanding because it's how you (and your purpose) come across to your reader. When the reader reaches that bridge, they see you: Are you learned? Are you informative? Are you confused? Are you really and absolutely certain? (Please be careful of that last one, all students everywhere...!)

Start to observe the movement of the river of understanding in the texts you read, and hear the tone of your writer (are they clever? friendly? bossy? overconfident?) by considering your expectations (of the genre) and reflecting on how you feel about the writer and their words after you've finished reading. How well did they build the bridge?

So, how do you feel now? (I was going for upbeat and empowering—but only you will know if I succeeded!)

Have a beautiful day!

Foucault, M. (1994). The order of things: An archaeology of the human sciences. Random House.