Copy What You Like (2006)
Interesting. PG provides a thought provoking opinion, and he&#x27;s a fine writer. However, I think this idea is a bit naive.<p>Sure, maybe he came to realize depressing, moody short stories weren&#x27;t his thing, but I damn near guarantee his imitation of said stories was crucial to his learning how to write half-way decently. The vast majority of philosophers are not good writers. A few stand out as fine men of letters, Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Cioran, and some others, but the vast majority of them are more concerned with the clear step-wise elucidation of an argument which, while important, rarely leads to an enjoyable or noteworthy result in the domain of literary style and is frequently bland and dry. There is some special enjoyment one derives out of the works of the like of Russell and Frege, but it relates to the crystalline nature of their ideas, not the genius of their literary style.<p>Take for instance the rhetorical technique Paul utilizes in the first graph--the repetitions of Mistake n. x. Mistake n. x. Mistake n. x...etc. That sort of structure, and indeed the casual tone, is pretty rare in academic philosophy, and in academic computer science. Where is it more common? In the efforts of short story writers, informal essayists and other such literary folk.<p>I do agree that its natural to imitate what you like, and beneficial, but there&#x27;s something to be said for imitating things you are averse to as well--they present more of a challenge because you have to <i>overcome</i> your natural dislike for the thing and <i>really</i> evaluate it--you have to question your own opinion of it, have to see if you can uncover any diamonds in the muck, have to see if, even if you dislike it, you have the chops to pull it off. In short, you <i>grow</i> as a person. Sure, the same thing happens when you make an easy picnic of your studies and imitations, but its silly to discount the value of forcing yourself to engage with views opposite your own, or things you are naturally disinclined toward.<p>I think Paul makes the mistake of assuming his conclusion in this essay before reaching it. He seems to have decided that none of his history copying these things he didn&#x27;t like was valuable from the start, when, if he reflected a bit more, I&#x27;m sure he&#x27;d be able to find that, in fact, those were important links in the chain in some sense, and not total wastes of time.<p>That being said, he is correct that we need to determine value for ourselves and to come up with our own metrics and schemes of judgement. However, there is still value in the old pantheon--in the recommendations of all the men who walked before us, in all those stuffy critics and analysts babblings. After all, giants are giant for a <i>reason</i>. While it&#x27;s important, as Paul says, to get over blindly accepting as good or special what everyone else considers good or special, it&#x27;s just as important to be able to understand <i>why</i> these things are considered special in a particular domain. You have to learn your own predilections--but you also have to learn the rules, the history, the techniques, and the value scales coupled with a field of art--the master is he who can bridge the two, he who engages in tradition while changing it, he who plays by the rules while making his own.