Abstract
This article provides a descriptive overview and brief example of Bud Goodall’s Verbal Exchange Coding, a method profiled in his book, Writing the New Ethnography. Verbal Exchange Coding categorizes conversation into five forms of verbal exchange, then into five practices or cultural performances of everyday life. Written reflection stimulates the analyst to create storied accounts that weave the researcher’s personal experiences into meaning in ways that serve as an analysis of culture. The example is a poignant verbal exchange between the author and a stranger at an airport boarding area.
Keywords
Bud Goodall’s (2000) Verbal Exchange Coding, a method outlined in his book Writing the New Ethnography, is perhaps one of the least utilized methods cited and profiled in the author’s The Coding Manual for Qualitative Researchers (Saldaña, 2013). Verbal Exchange Coding consists of verbatim transcript analysis and interpretation of the types of conversation and personal meanings of key moments in the exchanges. Goodall (2000), however, opted not to prescribe mechanistic approaches to the method, preferring instead and encouraging researchers to create an “evocative representation of the fieldwork experience,” the “writing of a story of culture” (p. 121, emphasis in original).
Goodall’s introductory approach to the analysis of talk and text is just one of many extensive and systematic approaches to conversation and discourse analysis (e.g., Agar, 1994; Drew, 2008; Gee, 2011; Gilligan, Spencer, Weinberg, & Bertsch, 2006; Jones, Gallois, Callan, & Barker, 1999; Lindlof & Taylor, 2011; Rapley, 2007; Silverman, 2006). However, unlike several of these methods, which include detailed notation systems for microanalyses, Goodall advocates a more holistic and truly interpretive approach to the data by novices. The outlined description and analyzed example below should not suggest that users must adhere to a formulaic framework for Verbal Exchange Coding. I simply provide a streamlined summary of Goodall’s recommendations for reader guidance. His methods are applicable to both transcribed dialogic exchanges and preexisting fictional and non-fictional texts.
Verbal Exchange Coding Method
Goodall describes a “coding” method that first determines the generic type of conversation, followed by analytic memoing or reflection to examine the meaning of the conversation. This memoing and reflection often make it directly into the text. It begins with a precise transcription or recollection of conversation, ideally including all pauses and non-verbal cues. The analyst then draws from a typology/continuum of five forms of verbal exchange Goodall suggested for identification of the units. Those familiar with the field of human communication studies might recognize the established emphases areas from the study of discourse and interpersonal communication:
Phatic Communion or Ritual Interaction, a “class of routine social interactions that are themselves the basic verbal form of politeness rituals used to express social recognition and mutuality of address.” Simple exchanges can communicate cultural patterns such as status, gender, race, class differences, and so on;
Ordinary Conversation, “patterns of questions and responses that provide the interactants with data about personal, relational, and informational issues and concerns, as well as perform the routine ‘business’ of . . . everyday life”;
Skilled Conversation, which represents “a ‘higher’ or ‘deeper’ level of information exchange/discussion” between individuals, and can include exchanges such as debates, conflict management, professional negotiations, and so on;
Personal Narratives, consisting of “individual or mutual self-disclosure” of “pivotal events in a personal or organizational life”; and
Dialogue, in which conversation “transcends” information exchange and the “boundaries of self,” and moves to higher levels of spontaneous, ecstatic mutuality. (Goodall, 2000, pp. 103-104)
This first stage of Verbal Exchange Coding also explores the personal meanings of key moments by examining facets such as speech mannerisms, non-verbal communication habits, and rich points of cultural knowledge (slang, jargon, etc.). The categorization then proceeds to examine the practices or the “cultural performances of everyday life” (p. 116). Notice that these five also suggest a continuum ranging from everyday matters to the epiphanic episode:
Routines and Rituals of structured, symbolically meaningful actions during our day;
Surprise-and-Sense-Making Episodes of the unanticipated or unexpected;
Risk-Taking Episodes and Face-Saving Episodes of conflict-laden exchanges;
Crises in a verbal exchange or as an overarching pattern of lived experience;
Rites of Passage, or what is done that significantly “alters or changes our personal sense of self or our social or professional status or identity.” (pp. 116-119)
Selected questions assist the analyst in coding, interpreting, and reflecting on the content and meaning of the verbal exchange: What is the nature of the relationship? What are the influences of fixed positionings (gender, race/ethnicity, social class, etc.)? What are the rhythms, vocal tones, and silences contributing to the overall meaning? (pp. 106-107).
The overview described above should not suggest an overly systematic approach to analyzing verbal exchanges. For Goodall, these could be quick reflective analytic moves. His suggested heuristics are basic categorization of overheard conversation followed by reflective narrative, rather than coding’s traditional unitizing of data and symbolic notation of them through words or short phrases (Saldaña, 2013). His approach evocatively explores “the new ethnography”—storied accounts grounded in the data that weave “the personal experience of the researcher into meaning in ways that serve as analyses of cultures” (Goodall, 2000, p. 127). Following is an example of how I employed my interpretation of Goodall’s suggested method.
Example
(I stand waiting for my flight to New York–LaGuardia at a Delta Airlines gate at the Raleigh–Durham airport on Friday, July 26, 2013, approximately 5:30 p.m. I am separated from the other seated passengers’ waiting area, occasionally puffing on my electronic (e-)cigarette. The gate agent makes an announcement over the speaker system. An average-build White man in his late 50s with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed goatee, dressed in a light gray suit but with no tie, approaches me; I call him the SWEDE because we never exchanged our actual names, and it was only later in our conversation that he revealed his nationality.)
What did she say? (I detect a slight European accent in his voice, but am not sure which country he’s from. His voice is medium pitched, moderate volume, and gentle in tone.)
She said that boarding was going to be delayed until the captain calls New York to find out if we can land OK and on time.
Oh. (referring to my e-cigarette) Are those things any good?
(making a grimace) They’re satisfactory but not satisfying.
I used to smoke, too.
I smoked for 40 years before I quit.
I had to quit.
Me, too. A friend of mine smoked the same amount of time as me, probably the same amount each day, and he ended up with lung cancer, he’s on chemo, so bad. Me, I stopped, got my lungs x-rayed and, thank God, I’m clean as a whistle.
I had cancer, too, spent a year in the hospital.
Wow.
(smiling) They cut me from here to here (pointing and moving from one side of his jaw to the other) and took it out.
(almost apologetic) Oh, I’m so sorry.
(laughing) No, that’s OK, it’s not your fault.
I mean that I’m sorry for what happened to you.
It was hard. My wife had to take care of me for nine months in the hospital.
Wow. (in an affirming tone) But you’re here, and that’s good!
(smiling) Yes.
Do you live in New York?
I’m originally from Sweden and moved there to work.
I’m going to New York to see some shows for a day, then going right back home. I’m from Arizona.
I was here for just the day, and flying back. I’ve been here since eight o’clock this morning.
Wow.
And you?
I was teaching at one of the universities here for a week.
Lots of universities here.
Yes.
What did you teach?
Research methods for an institute. What do you do for a living?
I’m an investment planner.
Are you with a bank or an investment firm?
Investment firm.
Yeah, I’ve been thinking a lot about investments and savings lately. I’m going to retire from my job in May 2014.
What kind of plan are you on?
I’m on a pension plan with my state.
(rolling his eyes slightly) Good luck with that.
It’s a pretty good plan but it’s not going to be the same as what I’m making now. It’s both scary and exciting. . . .
(We continue chatting about our jobs for awhile, and the conversation veers back to smoking.)
I still like to be around smokers and smell it.
Me, too. The smell of it comforts me even if I can’t smoke.
My wife doesn’t like the smell of it at all. She goes away from it, makes a face, “Ah, that smells terrible!” She hated it when the smell of smoke was in my clothes, in my coat.
I know, I got so self-conscious of the way I smelled, but now that’s not a problem.
I look at people smoking and I miss it.
I like to hang around smokers and just smell it. I don’t need to smoke, I just want to be around them. I know that if I had just one more cigarette, I’d probably get hooked again. I have a very addictive personality.
I quit once for two weeks long ago. But a friend of mine said, “Ah, just have a cigarette with me,” we were in a bar. So I smoked one from him, and when I was on my way home, I thought, “Ah, I’ll just buy a pack,” and I started up again.
I couldn’t do that. I know that all it’ll take is just one cigarette and I’ll be hooked again.
Yes, well.
I have nicotine tablets, too, because you can’t smoke these (referring to and holding my e-cigarette) on the plane.
(The gate agent makes an announcement for first-class and priority passengers to line up. The SWEDE smiles at me and says, “Here we go. See you.” Later, when my section of seats is called to board, I enter the plane and pass the SWEDE sitting in first class on my way to the coach section. We make eye contact; he grins and reaches out to grasp my arm and pats it strongly; I quickly grin back and pat his arm with the same strength.)
The Swede might never have spoken to me had he not seen me with my nicotine substitute prop: an electronic cigarette. He was an investment planner, dressed in a suit, well groomed, and had a first-class seat on the plane. I was dressed in very casual clothing and destined for coach, but he had no problem striking up a conversation with me, of a different ethnicity and social class—yet each of us within the same age range and with graying facial hair. We both shared a former bad habit, and this transcended all other demographic attributes. His line, “I look at people smoking and I miss it,” is exactly what I myself feel. If we can no longer smoke together and share the bonding that comes with mutual engagement in the habit, then former smokers can at least find comfort and empathetic understanding with someone who shares the memory of what it used to be like.
Our shared stories of addiction and withdrawal are our emotional nicotine substitutes. A patch, lozenge, and electronic cigarette satisfy our ongoing psychological and physical needs for a mild high. However, the human affirmation of someone who’s been there gives us a sense of community, of cultural belonging. Virtually nothing connects recovering addicts more than sharing a (former) bad habit. Me and the Swede never told each other our names, but that didn’t matter. Our identities were rooted in and revealed through a similar past experience.
The Rite of Passage moment of patting each other’s arm strongly while grinning on the plane was a “dialogic” moment that capped two strangers’ fleeting conversation, cemented our temporary yet quickly formed relationship, and reinforced a sense of kinship, brotherhood, and an affirmation of triumph: “We’re here, and that’s good!” Two men in their late 50s, occasionally reflecting on our mortality as we grow older, were still being “bad boys” by symbolically high-fiving our shared pasts, shared accomplishments, and shared ex-smoker’s culture.
Conclusion
Goodall recommends Verbal Exchange Coding as a preliminary analytic step toward a more evocative write-up, perhaps drafted as vignettes or profiles (Erickson, 1986; Seidman, 2013). Research genres such as action and practitioner research (e.g., Fox, Martin, & Green, 2007; Stringer, 2014), narrative inquiry (e.g., Holstein & Gubrium, 2012; Riessman, 2008), phenomenology (e.g., Smith, Flowers, & Larkin, 2009; Wertz et al., 2011), and arts-based research (e.g., Knowles & Cole, 2008; Leavy, 2009) lend themselves well to representing and presenting an analyst’s inquiry and discoveries through Verbal Exchange Coding. Although Goodall did not mention it, his approach also serves as an excellent way for performance ethnographers/ethnodramatists to delve deeply into the texts they construct to exhibit the nuanced actions, reactions, and interactions between their participant-characters (Saldaña, 2011).
Goodall’s legacy of Verbal Exchange Coding is perhaps an overlooked method from his prolific writings that instructors of qualitative research methods may wish to reexamine for their coursework readings and student exercises. The approach provides both structured and open-ended guidance for internal reflection and analysis of conversation. It is recommended as an introductory way to holistically explore the subtleties of dialogue and culture before venturing into more systematic methods for analyzing talk and text.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
