Based on the thrifty name-rank-affiliation formula from which bios in most scholarly print journals are designed, one might conclude that indeed, editors and readers care little about who is speaking. Instead, editors plug authors' information into the bio formula. Consider the following four bios that appear in a recent edition of a prominent journal of American studies:

_____ is a professor of _____ at _____. His most recent book is _____.

_____ is an assistant professor of _____ at _____. She is currently completing a book entitled _____.

_____ is an assistant professor of _____ at _____. He received his Ph.D. in _____ from _____ in 1992.

_____ is a professor of _____ at _____ and a past president of _____.

The minimal variation among these four examples demonstrates how the name-rank-affiliation formula works as a stencil in which editors enter the appropriate proper nouns. To construct authorial identity, simply fill in the blanks.

One finds evidence of the disembodying of the author among those who work at journals, as I have discovered in the last year that I have spent assisting at a journal while working on my degree. Recently, one author returned a copy of the proofs for the upcoming edition with her request that we include two additional items in her bio: the name of the university from which she received her Ph.D., and the names of the courses she taught last semester. One of my coworkers quipped, "What does she want, a biography?" His offhand response reflects how many of us who work at journals have ceased to consider a "bio" to be a "biography," in the sense that the former is an abbreviated version of the latter; instead, we define "bio" as the name-rank-affiliation triad. Any other information we consider extraneous; it falls under the rubric of biography, not bio, and is rejected from publication.

The restriction of authorial representation to the aforementioned formula disembodies the author. Writers are not presented as living, breathing bodies whose minds generate thoughts and whose fingers type them; rather, they are contained as names, ranks, and affiliations that indicate status but little else. We distinguish authors from each other only through invoking an academic hierarchy in which some names are more prominent than others, some ranks more senior than others, and some universities more prestigious than others. But we have few other means by which to distinguish one author from another. Thus, print conventions encourage us to think of the author as a name, a title, and a university, rather than as a person.

previous page || next page