The central point of discussion in today's class was the paradox to be found in the teaching of a class on oral traditions: we're learing about methods of storytelling and memorization by cultures with no writing system by reading books. Hence, a remembered conversation about emptying out a cooler by the window(or not, because there was nothing important in it) has different cadences when it is recounted verbally than when it is written down with a bunch tiny little marks called letters.

According to Ong(who was a Jesuit, and therefore already a scholar of some making), of the 3000 spoken languages in the world, only 78 have a writing system and therefore a form of literature. This is of course what is noted in his book which was published in the early 80's, but still, its a fascinating glimpse into the still far reaching expanse of orality, even in an intensely visualized culture as ours is or has become. Here we could probably move into lamentations about how technology is a vile thing, with how it is increasingly removing us from the world and the world's essence(and there would be some truth in this). But then, it was an observation made by Ong that language itself is a technology. So, we might want to watch trashing everything technological.

I close with the observation that I am now reassured: I'm not unique in being prone to fondle the covers of books in a creepily erotic way(those with tactile tendancies, appeal to the muse Eroto).