The Politics of Appalachian Rhetoric by Amanda E. Hayes (review)

Appalachian Ohio author Amanda E. Hayes answers questions regarding the role of identity in writing in this self-reflective book that goes beyond what teachers tell us writing must be to explore what writing can be. It is clear from the outset that Hayes has a specific goal in mind—to help Appalachian readers/writers not only understand why they sometimes struggle to create work that resembles traditional academic writing, but to also embrace how culture and context, people and places, and diversity of voice can augment and enhance what they write. Hayes does more than achieve this goal. She embodies it.

This investigation of Appalachian rhetoric centers on a misalignment of the goals and outcomes of traditional academic writing and that of the Appalachian writer. Hayes starts from a non-traditional definition of rhetoric, one that draws on her own cultural experiences, saying, “when people really want to say—or write—something important, they tell a story. Specifically, they tell a story of how they have come to believe or decide something. . . . Rhetoric is, for the purposes I’m examining in this book, how we tell and use our stories and the stories of those around us to decide who we are and what we stand for” (p. 9). Hayes’s focus on stories is sewn throughout the entire book, with the author providing nuanced, colorful glimpses of her own upbringing to make her claims. Indeed, this meta-writing component (that is, a book about how Appalachians write in the same style being described) is its most enthralling feature. She elaborates on this meta-analysis in chapter two when she talks about her language. As a Southern linguist, I know all too well the linguistic tightrope those of us in academia have to walk. The oral component of her description of Appalachian rhetoric is a necessary one. When people think of Appalachia, they often think of storytelling. But in chapter five, Hayes suggests that many Appalachian stories are not predisposed to being written, at least in the minds of those storytellers, likely because they cannot see how their language, their rhetoric could be “right” enough to write down. It is this disconnect between oral tradition and written word that Hayes hopes to diminish in this book.

Another primary focal point is on the impact of people and places. In chapter one, she highlights how ethos is established through developing credibility. In some kinds of rhetoric, that means facts and figures; in Appalachian rhetoric, it boils down to where you’re from and who your family is. This point is further elaborated on in chapters three, four, and five when Hayes looks at the various features of Celtic rhetoric that have influenced Appalachian rhetoric, including this establishment of ethos, the inclusion of narratives, and the notion that “[t]he process of thinking/coming to knowledge is often shaped by family and place-based experiences” (p. 66).

As a winner of the College English Association of Ohio’s Nancy Dasher Award for Pedagogy and Professional Issues in 2019, The Politics of Appalachian Rhetoric is a masterful piece that serves to educate teachers (and others) on the need to understand variation in cultural literacies. As Hayes puts it, “differences in the writing classroom aren’t always about mistakes or ignorance; they can be about cultural rhetoric” (p. 117). The power of this message comes not only from the content of the book but in the manner in which it is presented. Hayes’s contribution helps move beyond the notion of a “deficit culture” (chapters six and seven) to encourage place-centered pedagogical practices and to accept the rhetorical quilt of each writer, each student, no matter the cultural background.