50 pages • 1 hour read
Gerald Graff, Cathy BirkensteinA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
While Chapters 1-3 focused on what “they say” in rhetorical situations, Chapters 4-7 shift to what “I say”—what the writer has to say in the context of their argumentative writing.
Graff and Birkenstein acknowledge that many writers may feel unconfident when writing about topics outside of their personal expertise. They write that, while they are “no substitute for expertise” (56), strong rhetorical patterns that exist outside of a specific field knowledge are what wins arguments.
The authors introduce the three “most recognizable” responses to outside arguments: agreement, disagreement, and a mix of both. They remind their readers that it is important to take an explicit position on their sources as soon as they introduce them. Otherwise, their readers may get frustrated and confused.
Graff and Birkenstein address the concern that the three “I say” categories may flatten a complex argument:
We would argue, however, that the more complex and subtle your argument is, and the more it departs from the conventional ways people think, the more your readers will need to be able to place it on their mental map in order to process the complex details you present (57).
The authors reiterate that all argumentative writing is necessarily responsive and interpretive. While a scholar interpreting Hamlet can’t agree or disagree with the text, Graff and Birkenstein argue that “the best” interpretive analysis exists in conversation with other writers’ analysis. When one scholar takes a position on Hamlet, they are necessarily agreeing with some other scholars’ interpretations and/or necessarily disagreeing with some others.
Next, this chapter delves into disagreement and its challenges. Graff and Birkenstein remind the reader that “you need to do more than simply assert that you disagree with a particular view; you also have to offer persuasive reasons why you disagree” (58). In this view, a writer should never contradict someone else’s claim without explaining the nature of that disagreement or presenting an alternative.
Graff and Birkenstein explore the three recognizable responses discussed earlier in the chapter. Likewise, they note that agreement alone is insufficient and thus encourage the writer to agree “with a difference.” Agreement alone is insufficient without additional ideas and analysis. If disagreement is couched as “no, because,” then productive agreement is presented as “yes, and also.”
The chapter closes with a series of templates for different kinds of synthesized agreement/disagreement (e.g., “I agree more than I disagree”; “I disagree more than I agree”; “I’m of two minds”).
Chapter 5 focuses on maintaining clarity in argumentative writing by differentiating between “they say” and “I say.” Graff and Birkenstein spend this chapter teaching the reader to recognize the implicit rhetorical signals that scholars use to flag who is saying what in their writing.
Flags like these include authorial voice (the style and tone in which a writer writes) and “voice markers” that express the differences between two or more perspectives presented in a text. To explain this, Graff and Birkenstein analyze an excerpt of Gregory Mantsios’s “Rewards and Opportunities: The Politics and Economics of Class in the U.S.”:
In the opening sentence, for instance, the phrase ‘or so it would seem’ shows that Mantsios does not necessarily agree with the view he is describing, since writers normally don’t present views they themselves hold as ones that only ‘seem’ to be true. Mantsios also places this opening view in quotation marks to signal that it is not his own. […] Even before Mantsios has declared his own position in the second paragraph, readers can get a pretty solid sense of where he probably stands (69-70).
The authors follow this up by presenting the same excerpt with the voice markers removed. This version of the passage is incomprehensible. They also compare these subtle voice markers to overt markers that flag a shift in perspective, such as “X argues.”
This chapter opens with a “they say” from writer Jane Tompkins, in which she describes interactions with her “inner skeptic.” In these “moments of doubt,” she notices major flaws in her arguments and imagines how her critics will respond to them. She then uses this information to strengthen her draft.
Graff and Birkenstein use this testimony to remind their readers that receiving honest criticism is good for writers. They also explore the rhetorical power of responding directly to criticisms: “Paradoxically, the more you give voice to your critics’ objections, the more you tend to disarm those critics, especially if you go on to answer their objections in convincing ways” (79). Responding to an imaginary critic (the titular “naysayer” of the chapter) allows the writer to dismantle counterarguments before they can be launched.
Giving an “explicit hearing” to one’s detractors also shows respect for one’s audience’s intelligence. Introducing a “naysayer” shows that the writer is treating their audience “not as gullible dupes who will believe anything you say but as independent, critical thinkers who are aware that your view is not the only one in town” (79-80). Including multiple perspectives demonstrates that the writer is and broadminded.
When introducing a new “they say”—especially one from a naysayer—Graff and Birkenstein encourage their readers to play Peter Elbow’s “believing game.” Elbow encourages writers to write summaries of other people’s work as if they believe every word, even (and especially) when they do not. Playing the believing game can help writers to summarize opposing arguments fairly and rigorously. However, the authors also warn us that being too sympathetic toward our opponents may lead readers to adopt those opponents’ positions.
Graff and Birkenstein also remind us to both represent our detractors faithfully and refute them persuasively. When disagreeing with a position, writers should not simply dismiss it; they should logically refute it. Rather than refuting a position completely, though, the authors encourage writers to “make concessions while still standing your ground” (88).
This chapter builds on the “planting a naysayer” strategy and specifically concerns planting a “generalized group” of naysayers. Graff and Birkenstein explain that stated facts and opinions won’t matter to readers if they aren’t made aware of why those things are important. “The problem is not necessarily that the speakers lack a clear, well-focused thesis or that the thesis is inadequately supported with evidence. Instead, the problem is that the speakers don’t address the crucial question of why their arguments matter” (92). Graff and Birkenstein reframe this question as the “who cares?” and “so what?” of a piece:
In one sense, the two questions get at the same thing: the relevance or importance of what you are saying. Yet they get at this significance in different ways. Whereas ‘who cares?’ literally asks you to identify a person or group who cares about your claims, ‘so what?’ asks about the real-world applications and consequences of those claims—what difference it would make if they were accepted (93).
Graff and Birkenstein return to the inherently responsive nature of argumentation. When a claim is framed as a response, this highlights the fact that other people care enough about this to talk about it.
To illustrate the power of “who cares” and “so what,” Graff and Birkenstein break down passages from Denise Grady’s “The Secret Life of a Potent Cell.” To a layperson, Grady’s findings about the activity of fat cells may not be inherently meaningful in themselves. To make them matter, Grady must connect those findings to something the reader already cares about. Grady does this by explaining how understanding fat cells can help doctors and scientists combat obesity and, crucially, by reminding readers that obesity is a growing health problem that is dangerous and potentially deadly.
While many of the ideas that Graff and Birkenstein teach are common to traditional rhetoric and composition texts and courses, they develop their own rhetorical lexicon in They Say/I Say, which allows them to communicate these ideas in a more accessible way and Demystify Academic Writing for Students and Laypeople.
Their tone and attitude are more instructional than scholarly, as reflected in the more casual, but no less clear, language they use. In fact, they readily adopt slang to convey their points. For example, they refer to a rhetorical strategy as l “the duh move”: “You can even disagree by making what we call the ‘duh’ move, in which you disagree not with the position itself but with the assumption that it is a new or stunning revelation” (59). In other words, “Well, duh.”
This casual language, which anyone can understand, itself demonstrates empathy for the audience of the book and thus goes a long way toward helping Rather than dig into rhetoric’s roots in Greek philosophy, as is traditional in introductory composition textbooks, these authors focus on the most practical elements of rhetoric and composition. Instead of bogging students down with classical rhetorical terminology, Graff and Birkenstein focus on explaining the mechanics of effective argumentation in simple and catchy terms. These terms are designed to help inexperienced writers grasp sophisticated rhetorical concepts with ease.
However, Graff and Birkenstein also take care to strip down the intellectual nuance of their material in the process. For example, instead of explaining the concept of “aureation” (the use of prestigious-sounding language) to the reader, Graff and Birkenstein instead encourage us to try “dressing up” our language in the appropriate contexts. The information they share is as detailed as it needs to be, but it doesn’t burden its audience of students and new writers with unfamiliar and challenging language.
Graff and Birkenstein work to make their book accessible on multiple levels. Outside of choosing simple and memorable terminology, they also rely heavily on metacommentary and practice empathy for their readers. Throughout these chapters, they anticipate their readers’ potential questions and address them explicitly, as in the following direct address to readers, which occurs after a discussion of the benefits of repetition:
‘But hold on,’ you may be thinking. ‘Isn’t repetition precisely what sophisticated writers should avoid, on the grounds that it will make their writing sound simplistic—as if they are belaboring the obvious?’ Yes and no. On the one hand, writers certainly can run into trouble if they merely repeat themselves and nothing more. On the other hand, repetition is key to creating continuity in writing. It is impossible to stay on track in a piece of writing if you don’t repeat your points throughout the length of the text (118).
Graff and Birkenstein’s writing literally gives voice to their readers as novice-academic-writers, and they address not only logical objections (i.e., questioning whether a specific method would flatten an argument) but also more emotional concerns (i.e., reluctance to base arguments on disagreement due to fear of being rude). Either way, their style of writing itself models the lesson they teach. It also has the effect of
This rhetorical technique of directly addressing readers is also helps with Demystifying Academic Writing for Students and Laypeople. By anticipating and addressing common fears among student writers, Graff and Birkenstein assuage fears that are common among student writers and allow their readers to focus more on the purpose and craft of writing.