Essayist Stephen Miller pursues a lifelong interest in conversation by taking an historical and philosophical view of the subject. He chronicles the art of conversation in Western civilization from its beginnings in ancient Greece to its apex in eighteenth-century Britain to its current endangered state in America. As Harry G. Frankfurt brought wide attention to the art of bullshit in his recent bestselling On Bullshit, so Miller now brings the art of conversation into the light, revealing why good conversation matters and why it is in decline.Miller explores the conversation about conversation among such great writers as Cicero, Montaigne, Swift, Defoe, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, and Virginia Woolf. He focuses on the world of British coffeehouses and clubs in “The Age of Conversation” and examines how this era ended. Turning his attention to the United States, the author traces a prolonged decline in the theory and practice of conversation from Benjamin Franklin through Hemingway to Dick Cheney. He cites our technology (iPods, cell phones, and video games) and our insistence on unguarded forthrightness as well as our fear of being judgmental as powerful forces that are likely to diminish the art of conversation.
The first few chapters (on conversation--or not--in the ancient world) were pretty throwaway, with the exception of the discussion of Cicero. The ending chapters (rants about cell phones, TV, and the f-word) were predictable and tedious.
The middle chapters were excellent. Miller first discussed the rise of conversation as an art, beginning in the salons of France and reaching full stature in the London coffee houses. Particularly interesting to me was the notion of conversation as a civilizing agent, a unifying and constructive force in society. The idea is reminiscent of Richard Weaver's work on rhetoric. It seems to me there is some interesting potential for a discussion of "Eucharist as conversation" or "Eucharist as rhetoric."
I loved reading about Johnson, Addison, Burke, Goldsmith--all the masters of conversation who incredibly appeared in the same generation, in the same city. I admit I was hoping for details of what made them great conversationalists, and some principles for good conversation, but not much beyond the standard appeared (don't fight, pay attention when someone else is speaking, keep the topics general). Miller did draw out one interesting observation: it is not truly conversation unless actual converse is held. Much of modern "conversation" consists of alternating monologues by two people facing each other.
The author then relates the circumstances under which conversation declined. Mostly it came down to a changed view of what Richard Weaver would call ethics and piety--our relations with our fellow men and with the natural world. The greats believed that the proper occupation of man was man. Beginning with Rousseau (the braying egotist and wannabe noble rustic), men started believing the proper occupation of man was a combination of "me" and "nature." In England Thomas Gray and others began to lose sight of the city as paradigm and turned to nature, especially "sublime" wilderness scenes far from all traces of man.
(I wish here to note that the antithesis of city is wilderness, not farm. The conservative agrarian view of farm as paradigm is in direct continuity with the classic view of the city. Farms are cultivated, ordered, articulated models of the universe. In the Bible, garden and city are congruent images. It is no accident that when the highest image of our contemplation became the wilderness, our cities went from bulwarks of civilization to concrete jungles.)
In America, conversation did not fare well. Despite the intellectual pretensions of Boston, Johnsonian-style conversation was never robust. Even the European-minded Franklin was inclined to view conversation as "networking"--talking not for intellectual fellowship, but to make connections and get ahead in life. Emerson and Thoreau were wannabe Rousseaux. European visitors, to a man, remarked on the propensity of American men to be wholly preoccupied with business, and American women to chat about sermons and charities. (Tocqueville, to my uncharitable satisfaction, mentioned the South excelled the north at conversation, having more leisure and being less obsessed with making money. On the whole, though, no one met with any hearty approval from the acknowledged masters.)
Despite the shortcomings of both Boston and Charleston, a worse fate was to meet American conversation with the rise of the frontier. The author quotes a saying of Paul Bunyan's: "Since becoming a Real American, I can look any man straight in the eye and tell him to go to hell!" (p 199). The blunt, taciturn loner became the American ideal of character. John Wayne and Humphrey Bogart, despite their numerous merits, would not have shone at the coffee house or the dinner party. However, I would like to point out that Andy Griffith most certainly would have.
It is amusing (though, unfortunate) that a book dedicated soley to the art of conversation starts out strong then descends into an extended screed about internet chat rooms and rap music. Rather like a promising conversation gone sour, in fact.
Not the book I was hoping it would be but not totally without merit.
Miller traces the history of the "conversible world" of friends and acquaintances who discussed the big ideas of their day and how they shaped their world. The ancient world gets short shrift, but the 18th c. British coffee houses get their due. Miller covers the likes of Samuel Johnson and David Hume and their discussion partners and contrasts this golden age of conversation with the lack of meaningful conversation happening today. Miller argues that the conversible world has shrunk. People no longer visit coffee houses for conversation but to use the wifi. We prefer friends at out fingertips rather than face time for important issues. Contrast this with the world of Johnson and Hume who made face time with friends one of the greatest joys of their intellectual lives.
Johnson and Hume work well as about the only value they shared in common was a love of conversation. It would have been quite a spectacle had they ever met for coffee. Hume was the consummate skeptic who despised people who thought they were the most interesting topic of conversation. Miller agrees as he makes Rousseau the villain of this history. Rousseau thought his life worthy of a "Confessions" not written to God, like Augustine's Confessions, but to his fellow man. Rousseau's audience was evidently supposed to think that Rousseau's Confessions were some sort of anti-septic for all his questionable deeds.
Johnson sought out conversation to cure his melancholy. Recent research (not from Miller) has shown that it is a natural drug more helpful than any anti-depressant, though the anti-depressant can help get you out of the pit and back into the coffee house. Johnson and Miller like raillery and badinage instead of preoccupation with the self. Raillery is the jocular intellectual dueling that isn't underhanded but usually so over the top that it's just good clean fun for those who don't take themselves too seriously. Badinage is playful conversation that is usually refined by intellectual and experiential knowledge. It reminds me of GK Chesterton's tremendous trifles.
Miller's book is never dull, despite what other reviewers have said on Goodreads, and is a veritable gold mine of wisdom for learning the ropes of good conversation. If you want a practical guide for avoiding boredom and conversation stoppers and stimulating community then Miller's book is a great place to start. From a worldview perspective, Miller is a secularist who values religion for the issues it raises for rational discussion. He finds his religious friends, even those who accept the authority of the Bible, to be great discussion partners.
Miller however, never addresses the challenge that secularism poses to substantive conversation. Secularism promotes the idea that people must check their ultimate commitments at the door of public debate. This is the real conversation stopper and the greatest weakness of the book. Miller's work does serve as a good reminder that curiosity is born in conversation which demands a conversing community of honest intellectuals. This is a declining ideal.
Miller has done enough research to write an excellent book. It's a pity that the book didn't live up to its potential.
The organization of the book gives the impression that Miller's main goal is to unload opinions about conversation of one beloved dead person after another, interspersed with his occasional views. The book has some interesting bits but leaves the reader wondering what Miller intended. Miller seems confused, not sure if he's writing a history, an instructional book, or a cultural critique. As it stands, the meandering barrage of opinions saps the reader's interest of what might otherwise be an interesting subject.
One of the boon's of Miller's book is that it has the potential to be a source for further conversation. Miller makes strong claims which are contestable and which would make for interesting debate. For example, he suggests that with some people it is simply impossible to have a conversation, and when faced with such a person it is better to just walk away. Is this fatalist-elitist view valid, or is it possible to "win converts," so to speak? Miller also brings to our attention certain concepts which can enhance conversations about conversation: "ersatz conversation," "raillery," "anger communities" and "conversation avoiders," to name a few. However, all the discussion about the death of conversation and the futility of talking with some people (to say nothing of the tirade against rap music) reeks of the close-minded cultural criticism that Miller himself accuses of killing conversation. While I found myself agreeing with his critique of the overvaluation of "being natural, sincere, authentic and nonjudgmental," his smug withdrawal into the cozy safety of conversation clubs and dinner parties left me ambivalent. I love dinner parties as much as any conversation-enthusiast, but I wouldn't want to limit myself to those select groups.
Interesting history, mainly focusing on European and more specifically British habits and trends in conversation. Probably the most interesting part was the author's discussion of conversation in modern America. I'm not entirely sure that I agree with all his conclusions (for instance, rap music is not conducive to conversation, yes, but it, like many other things, doesn't really have anything to do with conversation), however, he does make some good points especially in the context of modern political polarization in the U.S. Overall, worth the read.
"Intellectual stimulation, to most, means hearing themselves deliver lectures on matters they have already figured out to their own satisfaction."
Three-quarters of this book is historical and felt like deja vu of my university days. Hearing the names Samuel Johnson, Alexander Pope, David Hume and Virginia Woolf was a pleasant journey back to academia. I did find it a little frustrating that the book doesn't always use full names upon first-use, which seems the proper way to me.
The last two chapters of the book were absolute gems. I couldn't agree more that the proliferation of conversation-avoidance mechanisms (tv, ipods, internet, cellphones...) has taken a toll on our lives and especially our conversations. (A debatable point that we even have any.) The author is right-on-the-mark in saying that we are egotistical by nature and that we have to train ourselves to be good listeners. He adds that many such bad listeners become "bloggers" to be able to talk without interuption (in other words to talk at you, not to converse with you). The book also discusses how people use e-mail to avoid face to face interaction. I enjoyed the emphasis on the importance of manners and civility. With some additional tidbits on how anger clouds communication, this book has a lot to offer.
Conversation is a history of the idea of the value of conversation. For Miller the height of conversation occurs in the 18th century in the French salon and especially in the English coffee house. He begins earlier with the Greeks and with Job, discusses Cicero and the Renaissance, but spends the most time in the 18th century with Johnson and with Hume. The end of conversation comes in part due to concern for commerce (whether in the late 18th century or with Dale Carnegie) and for authenticity (highlighting the personal above the give and take of conversation), with Rousseau and the romantics guilty of the latter (as well as 1960s counter culture). His chapter on American conversation finds it historically limited and declining among laconic men and the rise of impolite opinion and distracting technology (at an ever increasing rate over the 20th century, into the 21st). The topic here felt limited historically, a little grumpy and elitist, but I appreciated his calls to politeness, to raillery (gentle wit), to the benefits of personal contact and discussion, and to remember the 18th century.
The sections of the book on 18th century salons and coffeeshops in London and Paris were interesting, though it made me wonder: does the history of conversation really revolve so centrally around Dr. Johnson and La Rochefoucauld? Apparently, Europeans outside Britain and France did not converse.
The parts on America were less interesting, resting as they did mostly on the idea that American conversation was bad and that many Americans maintained an attitude of apathy or even antipathy toward "good conversation." And apparently conversation in modern times has gone to hell in a handbasket -- a conclusion I should have guessed from the title.
This book reminded me a lot of Joseph Epstein's work; urbane, sophisticated, conservative, drawn from wide reading and long experience with city life. At least that seems like the ballpark here. I don't know that this book will make me a better conversationalist, but it certainly has made me better appreciate the civilizing qualities of genuine, respectful human interaction. If more of us thought like Stephen Miller, I suspect the world would be a better place.
Eh - kind of a snore, and the fact that it was reminiscent of something I would have written as an undergrad didn't do it any favors, either. I guess I was expecting a more colorful overview of the history of the social functions of conversations, with plenty of Oscar Wilde-style bon mots thrown around. But alas. It was not to be.
After reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies in which the characters always talk about their "lovely conversations," I was glad I had bought this book. It helps answer the age old question, "What did people do before tv and the internet?" A book that fits my constant critique of online communication/ communities (yes I see the irony here).
I plodded halfway through this book and finally had to put it down (and I really hate doing that). The subject matter is really interesting (a look at the history of conversation in the 18th century) which is why I picked it up in the first place. However, I didn't understand/"get" the flow of the book - it jumps around without clear connections - which made it not very readable.
A disappointment. I was hoping for a history of what people have said in conversation, with plenty of witty quips. Instead it's a journalistic cut-and-paste of what people have said about conversation. Reads like an overlong senior thesis.
The book is staggeringly well-researched, but Miller comes across as arrogant and pretentious, adhering his reader to his strict definition of conversation. Ultimately, one can't help but think that if he is so worried about the decline of conversation as an art, he should simply go and have it.