But enough about you; let's talk about me.
Ann Althouse wrote a post today about jokes and anecdotes.
She quotes an article in the New York Times titled Seriously, the Joke Is Dead. "[S]cholars say, in a social situation wit plays better than old-style joke telling. Witty remarks push the conversation along and enliven it, encouraging others to contribute. Jokes, on the other hand, cause conversation to screech to a halt and require everyone to focus on the joke teller, which can be awkward."
Althouse says, "So, then, is recounting anecdotes dead too? It seems to me this is a modern preference for a conversation that rotates fairly quickly. No one wants any one person to talk too long. I don't think this is just a cultural "A.D.D.," but a positive understanding that people in a conversation are developing a social relationship that needs to work well. So no one should dominate."
This struck a chord with me. I grew up with a conversational style largely dominated by joke- and anecdote-telling, or more accurately novellista-narrating.
There are some contexts where telling anecdotes or jokes can be an enjoyable and appropriate part of the conversation. This conversational style can be a great ice-breaker or a fun way to pass the time.
But I've noticed that when one person has a story for every comment someone else makes, it does deflect attention from others. Often the person is so busy thinking about what quip they're going to make next and so eager to relate THEIR experience in that area that they don't really listen to the person talking.
That's something I have to work really hard at. Talking is much easier than listening for me. But I find that I'm a much better conversationalist when I can respond to someone's story by saying something simple like, "Wow, that must have been painful," or asking a question about what they just said. That makes people feel heard and valued.
If I respond instead by saying, "Oh, that reminds me of this . . . " I may be deflecting from their experience and just using them as a jumping-off-place to talk about myself.
I've noticed that those kinds of conversations often become one-upmanship contests. Each person is more interested in telling a funnier joke or a more amazing story than in hearing the other person's thoughts and feelings.
Have you ever heard a group of moms at the park talking like this?
"My Janie learned to walk today!" "Oh, how sweet. My Johnny was walking by 11 months and by the time he was your baby's age he was already running."
"My 5-year-old read her first word yesterday." "That's great! My 5-year-old is already reading at a second-grade level. But, of course, every child is different."
The first mom walks away feeling that her child's accomplishments have just been chewed up and spit out. A few more conversations like that and she'll vow never to have another playdate with Mrs. My-child-is-better-than-your-child ever again.
Almost every first-time mom has been subjected at some point in her pregnancy (usually at her baby shower) to this phenomenon. A group of been-there-done-that moms will feel it their duty to have a childbirth horror story contest in her presence.
Their stories are full of italics: "Oh, you think your labor was bad! Mine was sixty-two hours, and when the baby finally did come I hemorrhaged and almost died. Then the baby had jaundice and wouldn't nurse, and on top of that his poor little heart wasn't working right, and we thought he was going to die."
A few rounds of that game and the mom-to-be (who's supposed to be celebrating this joyous occasion) is debating between escaping the room or trying to find a way to escape labor and delivery altogether.
I must admit that the "my boss is worse than your boss" stories can be amusing and sometimes therapeutic. But often there's a fine line between being funny and insightful, and being boring and self-centered--or even damaging. Anecdote-telling can easily turn into hurtful gossip or unproductive griping, too.
It's much more difficult to listen well and ask someone questions about themselves than to talk about ourselves or show off our collection of jokes and anecdotes. In a way, we're more vulnerable when we listen to and focus on the other person. When we encourage someone else to talk, we're giving up control of the conversation.
We don't like to give up control. But if we do, we may find that the conversation is really more interesting and interactive--and that others enjoy talking with us a lot more.
She quotes an article in the New York Times titled Seriously, the Joke Is Dead. "[S]cholars say, in a social situation wit plays better than old-style joke telling. Witty remarks push the conversation along and enliven it, encouraging others to contribute. Jokes, on the other hand, cause conversation to screech to a halt and require everyone to focus on the joke teller, which can be awkward."
Althouse says, "So, then, is recounting anecdotes dead too? It seems to me this is a modern preference for a conversation that rotates fairly quickly. No one wants any one person to talk too long. I don't think this is just a cultural "A.D.D.," but a positive understanding that people in a conversation are developing a social relationship that needs to work well. So no one should dominate."
This struck a chord with me. I grew up with a conversational style largely dominated by joke- and anecdote-telling, or more accurately novellista-narrating.
There are some contexts where telling anecdotes or jokes can be an enjoyable and appropriate part of the conversation. This conversational style can be a great ice-breaker or a fun way to pass the time.
But I've noticed that when one person has a story for every comment someone else makes, it does deflect attention from others. Often the person is so busy thinking about what quip they're going to make next and so eager to relate THEIR experience in that area that they don't really listen to the person talking.
That's something I have to work really hard at. Talking is much easier than listening for me. But I find that I'm a much better conversationalist when I can respond to someone's story by saying something simple like, "Wow, that must have been painful," or asking a question about what they just said. That makes people feel heard and valued.
If I respond instead by saying, "Oh, that reminds me of this . . . " I may be deflecting from their experience and just using them as a jumping-off-place to talk about myself.
I've noticed that those kinds of conversations often become one-upmanship contests. Each person is more interested in telling a funnier joke or a more amazing story than in hearing the other person's thoughts and feelings.
Have you ever heard a group of moms at the park talking like this?
"My Janie learned to walk today!" "Oh, how sweet. My Johnny was walking by 11 months and by the time he was your baby's age he was already running."
"My 5-year-old read her first word yesterday." "That's great! My 5-year-old is already reading at a second-grade level. But, of course, every child is different."
The first mom walks away feeling that her child's accomplishments have just been chewed up and spit out. A few more conversations like that and she'll vow never to have another playdate with Mrs. My-child-is-better-than-your-child ever again.
Almost every first-time mom has been subjected at some point in her pregnancy (usually at her baby shower) to this phenomenon. A group of been-there-done-that moms will feel it their duty to have a childbirth horror story contest in her presence.
Their stories are full of italics: "Oh, you think your labor was bad! Mine was sixty-two hours, and when the baby finally did come I hemorrhaged and almost died. Then the baby had jaundice and wouldn't nurse, and on top of that his poor little heart wasn't working right, and we thought he was going to die."
A few rounds of that game and the mom-to-be (who's supposed to be celebrating this joyous occasion) is debating between escaping the room or trying to find a way to escape labor and delivery altogether.
I must admit that the "my boss is worse than your boss" stories can be amusing and sometimes therapeutic. But often there's a fine line between being funny and insightful, and being boring and self-centered--or even damaging. Anecdote-telling can easily turn into hurtful gossip or unproductive griping, too.
It's much more difficult to listen well and ask someone questions about themselves than to talk about ourselves or show off our collection of jokes and anecdotes. In a way, we're more vulnerable when we listen to and focus on the other person. When we encourage someone else to talk, we're giving up control of the conversation.
We don't like to give up control. But if we do, we may find that the conversation is really more interesting and interactive--and that others enjoy talking with us a lot more.
Copyright 2009. All rights reserved.
Posted by purple_kangaroo at 1:17 PM[Permanent link]
3 Comments:
There is definitely a balance which should be struck, though I struggle to approach it from the other end of the spectrum as you do. For me, listening is the easy part... unless, of course, there's going to be a test on it later, in which case I'm liable to become stressed over it. :)
Asking questions is, at times, a bit more difficult for me, and initiating conversation with an interesting quip or story is tough once my mind goes blank, as it is wont to do.
I think I feel safer and, perhaps in a sense, more in control when I'm listening than when I'm talking. I can always interrupt if I think there is something useful to say, and I feel I have a better sense of the situation as a whole when I'm primarily observing.
If I become the center of attention, I lose my objectivity and I wonder if I'm having any impact and what that impact might be. Also, I tend to feel like I'm babbling on those rare occassions when I talk a lot; particularly without significant feedback.
I'm glad there are kind people like you out there to balance people like me; lest everyone should always listen in uncomfortable silence. :)
Kevin
You're so right, Kevin. Some people have to work at talking more and some need to work at talking less . . . and I think almost everyone needs to work at drawing others out and asking good questions.
It's amazing how much you can learn when you really listen ... not only about the person you're talking to but about yourself!
I think everyone has to fight the urge to dominate the conversation from time to time. It's good to remember that when you let others speak first, you actually seem smarter! Proverbs says that even a fool, when he holds his peace is counted wise!
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