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	<title>Comments on: On Unreliable Narrators</title>
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	<description>Notes and Queries in Anthropology</description>
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		<title>By: Guard Your Heart and Your Purpose: Faithfully Writing Anthropology &#124; Savage Minds</title>
		<link>/2014/02/10/on-unreliable-narrators/comment-page-1/#comment-816314</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Guard Your Heart and Your Purpose: Faithfully Writing Anthropology &#124; Savage Minds]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 17 Feb 2014 13:33:51 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">/?p=1677#comment-816314</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[[&#8230;] The anthropological truth Sienna Craig wrote about in her post last week is a knowing that many times goes beyond words. As you share your hypotheses, your analyses, your participant observed ah-ha moments with interviewees, a confidant, a colleague, or a student, there are moments when the knowing is deep down in your soul. And sometimes it can feel as if words are not enough. You may have this shared moment of knowing, but the best you can do to acknowledge it is a look, an embrace, even a collective sigh. Even though it can feel limiting, in our writing we try our best to describe these soul-knowing truths; we attempt to describe, tell, teach, and explain. It takes vulnerability to attain this knowledge; and for me, it takes faith and Faith to write it. [&#8230;]]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>[&#8230;] The anthropological truth Sienna Craig wrote about in her post last week is a knowing that many times goes beyond words. As you share your hypotheses, your analyses, your participant observed ah-ha moments with interviewees, a confidant, a colleague, or a student, there are moments when the knowing is deep down in your soul. And sometimes it can feel as if words are not enough. You may have this shared moment of knowing, but the best you can do to acknowledge it is a look, an embrace, even a collective sigh. Even though it can feel limiting, in our writing we try our best to describe these soul-knowing truths; we attempt to describe, tell, teach, and explain. It takes vulnerability to attain this knowledge; and for me, it takes faith and Faith to write it. [&#8230;]</p>
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		<title>By: Week 4: Savage Minds Writing Group Check-In &#124; Savage Minds</title>
		<link>/2014/02/10/on-unreliable-narrators/comment-page-1/#comment-816313</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Week 4: Savage Minds Writing Group Check-In &#124; Savage Minds]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 14 Feb 2014 05:48:05 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">/?p=1677#comment-816313</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[[&#8230;] about the responsibility of the anthropologist. These are Sienna Craig&#8217;s words from her essay On Unreliable Narrators. So much of what she wrote resonated for me. Thinking about how people try to reliably narrate an [&#8230;]]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>[&#8230;] about the responsibility of the anthropologist. These are Sienna Craig&#8217;s words from her essay On Unreliable Narrators. So much of what she wrote resonated for me. Thinking about how people try to reliably narrate an [&#8230;]</p>
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		<title>By: [BLOG] Some Tuesday links &#124; A Bit More Detail</title>
		<link>/2014/02/10/on-unreliable-narrators/comment-page-1/#comment-816312</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[[BLOG] Some Tuesday links &#124; A Bit More Detail]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 11 Feb 2014 17:48:49 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">/?p=1677#comment-816312</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[[&#8230;] posting at Savage Minds, Sienna R. Craig writes about unreliable narrators in anthropology. How can we count on things in a complex [&#8230;]]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>[&#8230;] posting at Savage Minds, Sienna R. Craig writes about unreliable narrators in anthropology. How can we count on things in a complex [&#8230;]</p>
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		<title>By: Ann Armbrecht</title>
		<link>/2014/02/10/on-unreliable-narrators/comment-page-1/#comment-816311</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Ann Armbrecht]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 11 Feb 2014 17:16:01 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">/?p=1677#comment-816311</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Great post, Sienna, thank you!   Sienna, Carole, any others, I&#039;d love to hear your thoughts about your writing process. For example, Sienna, you talk about the &quot;residual ache of personal history – the desire to be a generous listener, to resist taking sides – which has coaxed me toward the use of dialogue, irony, and shifts between first, second, and third person as strategies for trustworthy storytelling.&quot; Can you say more about how you go about doing this? How and when you choose irony, say, or dialogue or other strategies. Is it intentional? Or more spontaneous? I ask because I am struggling between the very concrete ethnographic &#039;facts&#039; of what I am writing about and the desire to let something more arise in the writing... thank you!]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Great post, Sienna, thank you!   Sienna, Carole, any others, I&#8217;d love to hear your thoughts about your writing process. For example, Sienna, you talk about the &#8220;residual ache of personal history – the desire to be a generous listener, to resist taking sides – which has coaxed me toward the use of dialogue, irony, and shifts between first, second, and third person as strategies for trustworthy storytelling.&#8221; Can you say more about how you go about doing this? How and when you choose irony, say, or dialogue or other strategies. Is it intentional? Or more spontaneous? I ask because I am struggling between the very concrete ethnographic &#8216;facts&#8217; of what I am writing about and the desire to let something more arise in the writing&#8230; thank you!</p>
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		<title>By: Pâticheri</title>
		<link>/2014/02/10/on-unreliable-narrators/comment-page-1/#comment-816310</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Pâticheri]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 11 Feb 2014 08:59:57 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">/?p=1677#comment-816310</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Love, love, love this. Particularly because I&#039;ve often felt stuck here in India among all sorts of unreliable narrators--be these journalists or the women who work in our homes or those upon whose services and promises we are compelled to rely--and I do now count myself as one whose narratives (at least in daily living) are reliable only up to a point. Reliability here comes with blood-relatedness, or at a price--so that the go-between who mediates my relationship to public institutions is my only reliable source, outside of my family. It&#039;s its own sort of economy. For a long while I thought: What&#039;s reliability anyway except a framework that helps our statements make sense, so for the first years of my move back here I was the patient ethnographer, waiting for the frameworks to become obvious so that everything could once again make sense. (And I&#039;m a so-called &quot;native,&quot; too, go figure.) That sort of relativist premise really is only so useful though, for as you so finely point out, unreliable narratives permeate; hyperbole, hype, exaggerations, hopes, and outright lies are just about everywhere--and these provide hooks on which we come to rely. It&#039;s not just once or twice that I&#039;ve thought of Italo Calvino&#039;s Octavia as the only framework that is completely reliable:

&quot;Now I will tell how Octavia, the spider-web city, is made. There is a precipice between two steep mountains: the city is over the void, bound to the two crests with ropes and chains and catwalks. You walk on the little wooden ties, careful not to set your foot in the open spaces, or you cling to the hempen strands. Below there is nothing for hundreds and hundreds of feet: a few clouds glide past; farther down you can glimpse the chasm’s bed.

This is the foundation of the city: a net which serves as passage and as support. All the rest, instead of rising up, is hung below: rope ladders, hammocks, houses made like sacks, clothes hangers, terraces like gondolas, skins of water, gas jets, spits, baskets on strings, dumb-waiters, showers, trapezes and rings for children’s games, cable cars, chandeliers, pots with trailing plants.

Suspended over the abyss, the life of Octavia’s inhabitants is less uncertain than in other cities. They know the net will last only so long.&quot;]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Love, love, love this. Particularly because I&#8217;ve often felt stuck here in India among all sorts of unreliable narrators&#8211;be these journalists or the women who work in our homes or those upon whose services and promises we are compelled to rely&#8211;and I do now count myself as one whose narratives (at least in daily living) are reliable only up to a point. Reliability here comes with blood-relatedness, or at a price&#8211;so that the go-between who mediates my relationship to public institutions is my only reliable source, outside of my family. It&#8217;s its own sort of economy. For a long while I thought: What&#8217;s reliability anyway except a framework that helps our statements make sense, so for the first years of my move back here I was the patient ethnographer, waiting for the frameworks to become obvious so that everything could once again make sense. (And I&#8217;m a so-called &#8220;native,&#8221; too, go figure.) That sort of relativist premise really is only so useful though, for as you so finely point out, unreliable narratives permeate; hyperbole, hype, exaggerations, hopes, and outright lies are just about everywhere&#8211;and these provide hooks on which we come to rely. It&#8217;s not just once or twice that I&#8217;ve thought of Italo Calvino&#8217;s Octavia as the only framework that is completely reliable:</p>
<p>&#8220;Now I will tell how Octavia, the spider-web city, is made. There is a precipice between two steep mountains: the city is over the void, bound to the two crests with ropes and chains and catwalks. You walk on the little wooden ties, careful not to set your foot in the open spaces, or you cling to the hempen strands. Below there is nothing for hundreds and hundreds of feet: a few clouds glide past; farther down you can glimpse the chasm’s bed.</p>
<p>This is the foundation of the city: a net which serves as passage and as support. All the rest, instead of rising up, is hung below: rope ladders, hammocks, houses made like sacks, clothes hangers, terraces like gondolas, skins of water, gas jets, spits, baskets on strings, dumb-waiters, showers, trapezes and rings for children’s games, cable cars, chandeliers, pots with trailing plants.</p>
<p>Suspended over the abyss, the life of Octavia’s inhabitants is less uncertain than in other cities. They know the net will last only so long.&#8221;</p>
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		<title>By: John McCreery</title>
		<link>/2014/02/10/on-unreliable-narrators/comment-page-1/#comment-816309</link>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[John McCreery]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 10 Feb 2014 23:38:48 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">/?p=1677#comment-816309</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Marvelous. I may have a thought or two later; but for now just &quot;Marvelous.&quot;]]></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Marvelous. I may have a thought or two later; but for now just &#8220;Marvelous.&#8221;</p>
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