That was beautiful. As I read your piece , it occurred to me that your point is what 'lived experience' could encapsulate, if it weren't subsumed by Theory. Meaning, lives experience would be better described as Practice vs Theory, as you so eloquently distinguished.
Such a great familial connection through the generations that is so relatable. It was my 70 year old, Jewish, New Yorker Grandma who first pressed me with, 'Who said life is fair?'. Not mean, just straight forward in a way that my generation had taught out of us.
All of this is to say, thank you. Great read that hits home (pun inteneded).
Thank you, that is really kind. About your point on "lived experience" not being subsumed by theory, Fish talks about that a bit in his article. I didn't go into it too deeply, partly because I'd need to read more to be able to articulate it well myself, but he draws a distinction about thinking "within" a practice versus thinking "with" a practice, which I think is similar to what you're getting at. When one thinks "within" a practice, then a whole new understanding of an activity emerges that is separate from the theory versus practice binary. It's not that there's no "theory," but that the whole idea of seeing things as split into two becomes irrelevant. Everything that one would consider "theory," meaning something outside of practice, is then inside practice (the enriched notion of practice) and is part of it. Obviously Fish explains it better than I can, but he's really talking about two different understandings, almost like two people speaking two different languages.
Interesting. This was what came to mind for me while reading your piece. While growing up, I played soccer at a high level but I never thought much about it beyond relying on whatever "second nature" ability I'd had ingrained in me over the course of however many games I played. But something clicked in my early twenties, after I had any serious ambitions, when I started to think more about the "theory" of it all, thinking within the practice, it seems, and it's actually when I improved the most and played my best, I think.
There’s a really interesting novelization of these ideas in “The Art of Fielding” by Chad Harbach (of n+1 fame). About baseball, not soccer, but relevant for anyone who’s played sports and also tried to theorize the game. I think everyone who has played long enough and gone through ups and downs has experienced this (I know I have).
If you enjoy narratives with this kind of theory/practice friction, you might enjoy reading (if you haven't already) some of the works of the American regionalists. Jewett's The Country of the Pointed Firs is my favorite. They almost always dramatize the analytical outsider, often a schoolteacher or writer, who must find their way in a small community where their book-learning isn't always a great fit. So they have to learn how to live in the real world, even as they have their own valuable abstract knowledge to impart to the locals. Your Grandpa Joe (my grandpa's name, too!) almost reads like a character from one of these books--full of a kind of down-home, brass-tacks wisdom that isn't afraid of poking holes in the thinking of the pretentious eggheads.
But one thing the regionalists always remind their readers of is: while the abstract, intellectual schoolteacher, with their proofs and figures ranged in columns before them, has plenty to learn from the locals, the locals always have plenty to learn from the schoolteacher, too.
Wonderful, I’m not really familiar with the American regionalists but will look up this book. As a side note, your description reminded me of a novella by Stefan Zweig called “Confusion.” The main character is a charismatic professor and the book includes some incredible passages describing him in the classroom and the effect he has on students when in full flow. Yet he’s out of place everywhere else in life. Kind of an interesting twist on the theory/practice divide as the classroom becomes the arena for displaying one’s seemingly “natural” abilities.
You’ve reminded me of an Edna Ferber novel I read in high school, 1924’s “So Big.” Wikipedia: ‘The story follows the life of a young woman, Selina Peake De Jong, who decides to be a school teacher in farming country.’
Will summon google documents to do a word count. I never want to exceed this jewel. We know I will, because talkers will talk, but this was shockingly to the point.
*I always rather enjoyed Earl Weaver’s general reliance on allowing Boog or Frank R to hit in the baserunners in place of small ball.
*My son-in-law enjoys pro wrestling precisely because of the kayfabe.
*I was seated along the left field line last weekend when 1995 Cleveland greats Kenny Lofton and Dennis Martinez walked by to enter the field for 30th anniversary festivities, and I’ve been thinking about Dennis ever since.
Theory seems less valuable in the arts than, in, say, the sciences, where reality is assumed to be reproducible and independent of the observer. In the arts you need novelty, and the same novel/song/movie may be received completely differently by two different people. We know lots of talented artists with no grasp of theory (do you think Eminem knows an iamb from a trochee?), but an engineer with no knowledge of science isn't going to build bridges that stay up.
“In theory, there’s no difference between theory and practice, but in practice, there is.” - Yogi Berra.
That was beautiful. As I read your piece , it occurred to me that your point is what 'lived experience' could encapsulate, if it weren't subsumed by Theory. Meaning, lives experience would be better described as Practice vs Theory, as you so eloquently distinguished.
Such a great familial connection through the generations that is so relatable. It was my 70 year old, Jewish, New Yorker Grandma who first pressed me with, 'Who said life is fair?'. Not mean, just straight forward in a way that my generation had taught out of us.
All of this is to say, thank you. Great read that hits home (pun inteneded).
Thank you, that is really kind. About your point on "lived experience" not being subsumed by theory, Fish talks about that a bit in his article. I didn't go into it too deeply, partly because I'd need to read more to be able to articulate it well myself, but he draws a distinction about thinking "within" a practice versus thinking "with" a practice, which I think is similar to what you're getting at. When one thinks "within" a practice, then a whole new understanding of an activity emerges that is separate from the theory versus practice binary. It's not that there's no "theory," but that the whole idea of seeing things as split into two becomes irrelevant. Everything that one would consider "theory," meaning something outside of practice, is then inside practice (the enriched notion of practice) and is part of it. Obviously Fish explains it better than I can, but he's really talking about two different understandings, almost like two people speaking two different languages.
Interesting. This was what came to mind for me while reading your piece. While growing up, I played soccer at a high level but I never thought much about it beyond relying on whatever "second nature" ability I'd had ingrained in me over the course of however many games I played. But something clicked in my early twenties, after I had any serious ambitions, when I started to think more about the "theory" of it all, thinking within the practice, it seems, and it's actually when I improved the most and played my best, I think.
There’s a really interesting novelization of these ideas in “The Art of Fielding” by Chad Harbach (of n+1 fame). About baseball, not soccer, but relevant for anyone who’s played sports and also tried to theorize the game. I think everyone who has played long enough and gone through ups and downs has experienced this (I know I have).
Adding it to the list.
What a charming, lovely essay.
If you enjoy narratives with this kind of theory/practice friction, you might enjoy reading (if you haven't already) some of the works of the American regionalists. Jewett's The Country of the Pointed Firs is my favorite. They almost always dramatize the analytical outsider, often a schoolteacher or writer, who must find their way in a small community where their book-learning isn't always a great fit. So they have to learn how to live in the real world, even as they have their own valuable abstract knowledge to impart to the locals. Your Grandpa Joe (my grandpa's name, too!) almost reads like a character from one of these books--full of a kind of down-home, brass-tacks wisdom that isn't afraid of poking holes in the thinking of the pretentious eggheads.
But one thing the regionalists always remind their readers of is: while the abstract, intellectual schoolteacher, with their proofs and figures ranged in columns before them, has plenty to learn from the locals, the locals always have plenty to learn from the schoolteacher, too.
Wonderful, I’m not really familiar with the American regionalists but will look up this book. As a side note, your description reminded me of a novella by Stefan Zweig called “Confusion.” The main character is a charismatic professor and the book includes some incredible passages describing him in the classroom and the effect he has on students when in full flow. Yet he’s out of place everywhere else in life. Kind of an interesting twist on the theory/practice divide as the classroom becomes the arena for displaying one’s seemingly “natural” abilities.
You’ve reminded me of an Edna Ferber novel I read in high school, 1924’s “So Big.” Wikipedia: ‘The story follows the life of a young woman, Selina Peake De Jong, who decides to be a school teacher in farming country.’
Will summon google documents to do a word count. I never want to exceed this jewel. We know I will, because talkers will talk, but this was shockingly to the point.
I never heard of Earl Weaver and have never been a baseball fan but I enjoyed the article anyway.
I was meant to find this essay.
*I always rather enjoyed Earl Weaver’s general reliance on allowing Boog or Frank R to hit in the baserunners in place of small ball.
*My son-in-law enjoys pro wrestling precisely because of the kayfabe.
*I was seated along the left field line last weekend when 1995 Cleveland greats Kenny Lofton and Dennis Martinez walked by to enter the field for 30th anniversary festivities, and I’ve been thinking about Dennis ever since.
Your essay hit the spot!
Haha! There's not really enough Substack writing about Dennis Martinez, and it's been a minute since I thought about Kenny Lofton!
Thank you, Alan. What a coincidence you saw Martinez just the other day!
Theory seems less valuable in the arts than, in, say, the sciences, where reality is assumed to be reproducible and independent of the observer. In the arts you need novelty, and the same novel/song/movie may be received completely differently by two different people. We know lots of talented artists with no grasp of theory (do you think Eminem knows an iamb from a trochee?), but an engineer with no knowledge of science isn't going to build bridges that stay up.