Abstract
Social scientists observe, interact with, transform, and are transformed by other human beings. Thus, we social scientists have the task of figuring out how to represent ourselves and other human beings in the most full and accurate way possible. Jane Gilgun, “Grab” and Good Science: Writing Up the Results of Qualitative Research (Gilgun, 2005: 260)
Long ago, I learned that while inspiration certainly plays a role in research and writing, both are crafts, governed by formal and informal rules and explicit and tacit standards. I admire both enterprises; they are hard and frequently, demand that I extend my repertoire. Precisely because these endeavors require on-going skill tune-ups, I remain a cautious fan, always seeking to improve the workflow and of course, the final product. Therefore, I read…a lot. I devour productivity books, books on writing, and writer’s memoirs. I love books written by academics that take disparate, often stodgy social science literature, and distill it into a coherent narrative palatable for a popular audience. Books such as Presence (Cuddy, 2015), Originals (Grant, 2016), and Deep Work (Newport, 2016) come to mind. Such works resonate with the mission that Jane Gilgun alludes to in the opening quote. The processes of social inquiry are potentially transformative and as such, hold out the promise of renewal and self-discovery. For those who embrace the challenge, a fuller life awaits.
This issue marks my inauguration as book review editor. In this role, I wish to introduce the reader to books that can potentially enrich processes of inquiry and writing. QSW contributors and readers reflect a diverse group of scholars and professionals committed to processes that generate new understandings. As such, the QSW community strives to bring practical applications of discipline-specific knowledge to wider audiences. In pursuit of that endeavor, clear and concise writing serves as an important vehicle. The two reviews that follow feature books aimed at expanding its readers’ methodological and expository range. Written by highly successful scholars whose careers reflect steadfast devotion to their avocation, both books serve as important tools for practitioners of qualitative methods and as examples of the rewards that come from taking scholarly risks.
In Mixed Methods Research for Social Work: Integrating Methodologies to Strengthen Practice and Policy, Wendy Haight and Laura Bidwell demonstrate how social work scholars can employ mixed methods to advance social justice. They draw on a wide variety of past and recent work to illustrate the opportunities that result from the integration of methods. In contrast, in Air & Light & Time & Space: How Successful Academics Write, Helen Sword presents a qualitative study of how scholarly authors attend to their writing. Arguably, these books would bring honor to any qualitative researcher’s workbench; they serve as guides for those interested in the deliberate practice of their craft. Sure, it is possible to conduct social science without regard to its personal transformation on the scholar. But, why shortcut the range of possibilities for human representations? Transformation awaits; these books offer us a glimpse.
References
Haight WL and Bidwell LN, Mixed methods research for social work: Integrating methodologies to strengthen practice and policy. Lyceum Books: Chicago, IL, 2016; 288 pp. ISBN 9780190616090, $53.00 (pbk)
Reviewed by: Lissette M Piedra, University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, USA
Haight and Bidwell open this volume by situating mixed methods within a broader intellectual context familiar to any social work researcher educated within the past 50 years. Frequently referred to as the “paradigm wars,” many of us can recall having to choose, at some point in our graduate studies, between qualitative and quantitative methods, followed by the expectation to faithfully adhere to the selected mono method. In the midst of such partisanships, mixed methods research emerged as a third-party candidate of sorts, enticing scholars who eschewed being intellectually pigeonholed and sought better strategies for understanding messy social problems.
This book offers much to both the beginner and the advanced practitioner. Written explicitly for social workers, Haight and Bidwell’s book serves a dual function: as a primer for mixed methods research and as a conduit for the profession’s rich intellectual history. For those new to mixed methods, the authors provide a stepwise framework for constructing a mixed methods project, illustrating each stage with contemporary research and, as an added bonus, an interview with the researcher. Exemplar research showcased in the book includes such gems as Jane Gilgun’s decades-long program of research with men incarcerated for violent crimes (Chapter 4), Patricia Shannon’s observational work with refugees to the United States who have experience war trauma (Chapter 5), and Wendy Haight’s extensive work with children from rural methamphetamine-involved families (Chapter 8).
For the practiced scholar, this book features a tour of the historical and philosophical foundations of the profession as a means of broadening an understanding of the methodology underlying mixed methods inquiry. Such an angle allows the reader to consider the philosophical roots that led to the methodological pluralism found in the work of the social work pioneers. In doing so, the authors carve out a pathway for understanding the contributions of mixed methods research within an evolving historical context. One can hardly read the first part of the book without acquiring a deep appreciation for how Pragmatism—the philosophical position that asserts that what we know precedes from our experiences and the activities we undertake—influenced the fledging profession and contributed to a number of mixed methods inquiries as well.
However, the book serves another agenda, which Haight and Bidwell forthrightly disclose in the introduction. While they intend to persuade the reader to use mixed methods, they also want the social work profession to assume leadership in the ongoing development of such composite methodology. Most of the recent advances come from allied professions such as health services, education, and nursing. By drawing attention to the intellectual roots of the profession and the role that mixed methods played in groundbreaking studies such as the Pittsburg Survey (1907–1908), the authors argue that social work has a “long and evolving heritage of integrating quantitative and qualitative methodologies to address complex social issues.” (p. 31). The third part of the book is devoted to advice for those interested in constructing a research program that employs mixed methods.
This book inspires action; one feels compelled to embark on a new study, teach a new course, or just share the work with colleagues. Each chapter includes a list of suggested readings along with a brief description and discussion questions. The book provides a detailed glossary of terms and an example of a completed dissertation proposal.
Sword H, Air & light & time & space: How successful academics write. Harvard University Press: Cambridge, M, 2017; 280pp. ISBN: 9780674737709280, $24.95 (hbk)
Reviewed by: Lissette M Piedra, University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, USA
Helen Sword’s unusual new book draws insights from in-depth interviews with 100 successful academic writers worldwide on how they attend to their craft. As such, Sword’s analysis provides a holistic and inclusive view of the writing process, a welcomed departure from the prescriptive penchant of many writing books to overprescribe sound but generic strategies that inevitability miss the mark for a number of writers.
The range of writing strategies recorded in these interviews is breathtaking and defy categorization into pithy how-to lists. Rather, Sword uses her data to identify common attitudes and attributes that all successful writers share. She classifies them into four habits—Behavioral, Artisanal, Social, and Emotional—that serve as a “BASE” of a house, a metaphor she uses throughout the book for the conditions under which one writes. Sword posits that this BASE is not static but shifts and changes over time and by project. She includes a diagnostic exercise that helps the reader determine his or her own BASE (see pp. 8–9). The tool asks the reader to rank from 1 (low) to 10 (high) the strength each of the four habits in his or her life; then, enter the scores along the corresponding BASE axis that appears in a diagram. After connecting the dots, the reader is left with a visual representation for the BASE of his or her house. Sword suggests that an even distribution among the habits in one’s life creates a more secure structure that allows more “room” to write but she also points out that like any dwelling, it will need maintenance and occasional repairs over time. These BASE habits divide the book into its four parts, each subdivided by aspects that inform the core habit.
After reading the first few chapters, I excitedly contacted a number of colleagues to recommend it. For me, it was liberating. I had long held the steadfast belief that one must write for at least “30 minutes a day” to be a successful writer. Although I had never been able to string together more than three or four days of consistent writing (albeit for several hours at a time), I nonetheless advocated this approach for novice writers. I kept my dirty little secret to myself; somehow, what I did worked for me, but it was hardly an ideal. Sword’s study blows this thinking apart. She describes that the interviews reflect an “ethos of experimentation, empowerment, and choice.” Yes, there are truisms, such as the importance of writing rituals and consistent writing, but she expounds on the diverse measures prolific writers take as they go about their work. In the process, she gives the reader permission to cast aside writing shibboleths that do not seem to work and exchange them for attitudes that promote joy in writing. How exhilarating!
This book provides an exceptional treatment of the mechanics of writing in the first two parts of the book (Behavioral and Artisanal Habits). It includes a brilliant chapter entitled The Other Tongue that Swords considers vitally important for improving the institutional culture of academic writing. She astutely observes that at the same time that English has become the dominant language of academic writing, most of us have international colleagues for whom English is a second language. Appreciating the difficulties they encounter writing in a second language is central to being able to provide the support and encouragement they need to flourish. However, equally important is the contributions that such writers can make to their native English-speaking colleagues.
Finally, I will end with brief discussion on the last two parts of the book (Social and Emotional Habits), which for me brought me great delight. In these sections, Sword moves past writing procedures to explore the social and emotional complexities that bind the writer to the craft. Who among us has not experienced the dreaded slog through impasses or wrestled with a stubborn tangle of word? For those ever so human of writers, Sword gives us chapters aptly entitled The Pleasure Principle (Chapter 10) and Metaphors to Write by (Chapter 12). You will never think of writing the same way again.