Too Much Information: Too Little Information

It's funny, because I was just explaining my theory on classic literature to a friend maybe two days ago.  Basically, it seems to me that reading any of the classics is not just boring, but downright inefficient.  Why would you waste your time reading every word of a book when so many summaries and analyses are already out there?  Reading classic literature is as unreasonable a pursuit as, I don't know, making your own napkins.  Why would you do that when someone else has already gone to all the trouble a million times before?  Let's be honest: it's not like you're going to catch something someone else missed.

(Sidenote: KELLYq, I hope you don't think I'm trying to devalue your English degree and imply that it was a huge waste of time.  Clearly you studied all of those books in college not just for the hell of it, but with the admirable goal of later being able to torture young children with them.  That is something I fully support.)

So anyway, when Justin Douglas announced this week's theme to the group, an all-too-familiar feeling washed over me--a feeling I can only describe as "hearing the name of a book and knowing that I was not going to end up reading it."  Ahh, I've missed that feeling!  It's been too long since I've had to really buckle down and bring out my A-game in B.S-ing.  That's why I thought I'd use this week's topic as a reason to highlight some of my best tips on how to bullshit your way through a paper when you didn't read the book.

Scan the Cliffs Notes

Obviously you've got to start here.  Obtain the Cliffs Notes (or another reliable summary) for the book in question and give them a nice, halfway-decent scan--the key words here being halfway decent.  Don't go overboard.  If you read the Cliffs Notes word for word, you're bound to internalize a lot of it and then when it comes time to take the test or write the paper, you're going to end up spewing up a bunch of undigested chunks of copyrighted conceptual vomit.  And your teacher's gonna smell it from a mile away.  So read just enough to give you a good idea of the plot and major themes, but not enough that you're like a walking Cliffs Notes audiobook.

If you're worried about sounding "too Cliffs," just go with a lower-profile brand of book companion or, better yet, cobble together a bunch of different analyses and really mix up your scent.

Go big

Now that you've prepped by familiarizing yourself with the material, you need to remember something: be confident!  You've got a huge advantage over your peers who actually read the book, because you know the essentials and that's it.  Your mind isn't bogged down by stupid details like what size Jane Eyre's feet were or what flavor ice cream Madame Bovary liked the best.  So you definitely shouldn't be worried about your classmates somehow knowing something you don't.  Don't be afraid to speak up in class, make bold claims in your essay, or come up with an outrageous thesis.  The only risk you run is sounding like you know the book too well, but the next couple of tips will help you mitigate that risk. 

Take an opposing stance

Disagreeing with the main theme of the book (or just criticizing the author) will let you totally sucker your teacher every single time.  It makes you look like you have put that much more thought and analysis into the book.  I don't know why they fall for this, but they do.  Every time.  Trust me.

When I say this, though, I'm obviously not suggesting that you make the argument something stupid like, "Oliver Twist was not actually an orphan!"  Rather, you just cast doubt on a key theme of the book, or the execution of an important symbol.  Good phrases to employ include "overly idealistic," "unsatisfactorily examined," and "kind of wack."

Get a couple of things wrong

You read the Cliffs Notes, so obviously you know the big picture; however, you can't come into class on the first day of discussion and be spouting out wisdom like you've got a PhD in this shit.  You have to play it cool at the beginning and purposely make a few mistakes.  Allow yourself to ask a couple of thoughtful but misguided questions, or to offer an interpretation of something even though you know it's wrong.  Then later, break out the big guns and start showing off your knowledge.  Your teacher will remember your earlier difficulties and your growth will come off as very organic.

Don't panic

Sometimes we all get lazy--we might even get so lazy that we take the easy way out of the easy way and skip 20 pages of the Cliffs Notes or just avoid them altogether.  This is not advised, but there are still things you can do to save your ass.  Some quick tips:

• Use big words.  Duh.  Throw in words like "thus," "consequently," and the like, and your teacher might not even notice that they are not really followed by an actual conclusion.
• Seize on whatever little information you do know.  Even if you haven't read a single word of the book, chances are that your essay prompt gives away something--a theme, a few characters' names, etc.  Piece those together with what you already know about all books--there's going to be a conflict, a climax, and a resolution--and you'd be surprised how much you can fake.
• Talk about how important the question is.  One of the more elementary principles of bullshitting is to restate the question a number of times, but that's a pretty transparent strategy.  I've always had more success with just talking about the question itself and how important I think it is.  For example, I once took a linguistics test with a short essay question on it asking us about how humans evolved the ability to make sounds (or something like that).  I wrote a neat little paragraph about how important it was for us as humans to explore the evolution of communication, because our ability to communicate so elegantly is at the core of what makes us human, etc. etc., and I only got like one point off, even though I never actually got into the mechanics of speech that the question was looking for.  I've never figured out why this strategy is so successful, but I think it has to do with the preliminary positive impression the teacher gets when he sees that you've written a nice, full response as opposed to a scant sentence or two.  His subsequent evaluation of your response is colored by that initial positive impression, and he wants to validate your efforts.

That last tip gets to the heart of why good bullshitters can often do much better than they would have done if they actually tried to write something legit.  First, teachers want to see you succeed (or at least, most do).  So they're looking for the good stuff.  Secondly, they're pressed for time just like anyone else, so they're really just reading your work for the important cues that show them you did what you were supposed to.  As long as some of the important signals are there--the big words, the thematic references, etc.--you're good to go.  And ol' teach is good to speed through her stack of essays and hit the bar even faster.

Lauren McMahon (e-mail, website) writes "Too Much Information" on Mondays at noon.  Find out more here.

Comments

[Caitlar]

These techniques are precisely how I have a degree in English.

Also, I'm curious for the teacher's response. Kellyq?

[Phylan]

Don't knock it until you've tried it.

[Phylan]

"It," in this instance, refers to making your own napkins.

[KELLYq]

OK, so as an English Major, this is all totally legit. The other thing I would suggest is to chew up and reconfigure whatever the prof said in lecture, and some how tie those concepts into some grand notion of this book affecting society. That's always good.

I rarely deal with such skilled B.S, as I teach eleven-year olds. When kids BS stuff for me, they're sloppy and obvious. Sometimes I will award points for fancy phrasing, and also if a a kid says in a particularly humorous way how much they hated the book. that can be good.