An Exit Interview with Kemble Yates

Kemble Yates is from Pullman, Washington. He graduated from the University of Puget Sound in 1982 with degrees in economics and mathematics and went on to earn a master’s degree in mathematics in 1984 and a PhD in 1987, both from Washington State University. His area of expertise is mathematical modeling in biology and astronomy. He has published research on mathematical modeling and has served as an expertise witness in court cases on age discrimination and as a mathematical consultant in industry.

He joined the faculty of Southern Oregon University in 1987 and was promoted to full professor in 1999. He has served as chair of the Math Department from 2003 – 2008. He has also served many terms as a faculty senator and was twice the President of the Faculty Senate and served a term as president of the statewide Inter-institutional Faculty Senate. He twice served as the president of the Associated Professors of Southern Oregon University and was the chief union negotiator several times. From 2003 — 2022, Yates served as the Southern Oregon University representative to Association of Oregon Faculties.

He is an accomplished amateur bridge player.

In 2018, Kemble Yates received the Outstanding Service Award at Southern Oregon University. He retired in 2022.

Ed Battistella: How did you make your way to SOU?

Kemble Yates: As it worked out, I decided late in the 1986-87 employment cycle to look for a job, and only a few universities still had openings. One of those was Southern Oregon State College. I got an interview, and ultimately a job offer. At the time, I was thinking this would be a good “starter job” and I’d move on in a few years. I fell in love with the university and the area, and I really never seriously considered leaving after my first couple of years.

EB: Do you remember what you taught in your first years at SOU?

KY: I taught college algebra, first term calculus, and multivariate calculus my first term. I fell in love with teaching collegiate mathematics in graduate school, and one thing that I’ve really loved about my Southern experience is that I got to teach a wide variety of courses.

EB: What else stands out from your first years?

KY: I arrived the same year a new President, Joe Cox, did. Prior to Cox, a pretty unpopular President (at least to the faculty and staff) had left in a cloud. The university seemed to ride a nice optimistic wave my first three years. Unfortunately, Oregon’s Measure 5 passed in 1990, and higher education funding has been a painful challenge ever since.

EB: What’s been your favorite thing about being an academic life?

KY: Perhaps unusually for a mathematician, I am a people person – I really like interacting with people. The faculty and staff at Southern have always been inspiring to me. And of course, working with bright, (mostly) younger students is a true joy. I really loved being a professor at SOU.

EB: What were some high points of your work at SOU?

KY: As your bio on me points out, I have been very active in the life of the university. Through committees, Faculty Senate, and our faculty union, APSOU, I’ve had multiple opportunities to take part in discussions and decisions which have shaped the university and especially the lives of faculty. And I really enjoyed my colleagues in the Mathematics Department: their dedication to building and improving our curriculum, to helping our students learn and succeed, and to being a supportive team to one another has profoundly impacted me. In my last several years, two major highlights were: I got to help start a graduate program in mathematics, and I was the department point person for guiding senior math majors in their capstone projects.

EB: How did you get interested in mathematics?

KY: My road to a mathematics PhD was actually pretty indirect. My true love as an undergraduate at the University of Puget Sound was economics. My Econ professors gave good advice – they said if you want to pursue a graduate degree, you need to have a solid mathematics background. So I backed into a double major of math and econ. And when it came time to go to graduate school, again my Econ professors suggested getting a Master’s in mathematics before switching to a doctoral program in economics. When I arrived at Washington State as a mathematics graduate student, I was awarded a Teaching Assistantship; this meant I taught one math course per term to “earn my keep”. It was then that I realized I really liked math a lot, and I especially liked teaching math. I never made it back to economics!

EB: You are a live-music aficionado. Who are some of your favorites?

KY: I do in fact love live music. I’m really kind of a mutt – I like many different kinds of music (classical, rock, bluegrass, country). And I love everything from a small club show all the way to a stadium show. I have been to over 600 different live music performances. Some of my favorite shows have been Fleetwood Mac, The Cure, Little Feat, AC/DC, and Roger Waters (of Pink Floyd fame). But over the last five years, I’ve actually “graduated” to 3-4 day music festivals. I just returned from the Northwest String Summit (bluegrass and rock) and two weeks prior, my wife and I attended the High Sierra Music Festival (again bluegrass and rock). Next week I travel to Alaska to attend Salmonfest. And of course we are members of Britt & attend 10-15 shows each summer.

EB: What are your plans, post-SOU?

KY: So I’ve always been good at filling my time, and I’m looking forward to having even more time with which to play. In addition to many live music activities, I will play more bridge (both locally and traveling to tournaments), Diana and I will travel more, and I’m really looking forward to reading more books again. I also have an eye on creating and teaching some OLLI classes, as well as taking a few OLLI classes. We will stay in Ashland – we love this area and our home is definitely here.

EB: Thanks for talking with me. I’m right behind you, retirement-wise.

KY: Thanks Ed! I look forward to your joining me in our post-SOU world!

 

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An Interview with Louise Wagenknecht

Louise Wagenknecht is the author of a trilogy of books about life in northwest California: White Poplar, Black Locust (2003, republished in 2021), Light on the Devils: Coming of Age on the Klamath (2011), and Shadows on the Klamath: A Woman in the Woods (2021), all available from Oregon State University Press.

Born in Boise, Idaho, Wagenknecht was raised in Hilt and Happy Camp, California, and received a degree in English from California State University, Chico. She also studied range, botany, forestry, and wildlife management at Humboldt State University and worked for the U.S. Forest Service for more than thirty years.

Her writing has appeared in High Country News, American Nature Writing, The River Reader, and Ring of Fire: Writers of the Yellowstone Region.

Ed Battistella: I really enjoyed reading your work. How would you describe yourself as a writer? Memoirist, historian, naturalist?

Louise Wagenknecht: All of the above, I suppose. When I started writing, I was trying to make sense of the place in which I grew up, and the family in which I grew up. I knew a great deal about what had happened, but why things happened was often pretty murky.

Especially while writing the first book, I read everything I could find about the Klamath-Siskiyou region, starting with its geology, which is so tied in with the Gold Rush history of the region. I had been very interested in natural history since childhood, but the unique qualities of the bioregion were barely taught in school. When I was seven, someone gave me a children’s book about birds, which I loved, but it focused on eastern species which I had never seen, and didn’t mention most of the birds around Hilt.

At Humboldt State University, I took two semesters of plant taxonomy, taught by a specialist in northwestern California plants. That was a terrific eye-opener to the world of endemic plant species, and I gained context for what I had seen up until then.

Another resource was the library at Chico State and its northern California history collection, including all of the yearbooks of the Siskiyou County Historical Society. I stumbled onto a book called California Called Them, by Robert O’Brien, a columnist for a Bay Area newspaper, who in the 1950s wrote a series of articles about the history of the Gold Rush country. He included three chapters on Siskiyou County – Mount Shasta and Yreka – and his evocative writing style blew me away. Nobody had ever talked that way to me about my home country, or written about California history that way.

Right after I found O’Brien, I picked up Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America, and was astounded to find myself reading about Grider Creek, a place I knew intimately. I stood there and read that and I thought the top of my head would come off. That’s when it hit me: people could and did write imaginatively about precisely the places I loved. It took me another thirty years to attempt it myself, but I think that’s when the germ took root.

EB: Did you start out with a trilogy in mind? How do the three books fit together in your mind?

LW: In the beginning, I just concentrated on writing about Hilt. After the first book came out, people started asking me, “what’s next?” and while thinking about what that could be, I started transcribing the diaries I had kept in high school, and by the time I finished, the theme was there: moving from Hilt to Happy Camp was still the same ecoregion, the same natural resource issues still present. Once I carved out the second book, then dealing with the years I worked for the Forest Service, in the belly of the timber beast, so to speak, was the obvious next step. But it still took me a long time to write about it.

I think now that all the books are chapters of a long tale called “The Decline and Fall of the Western Timber Industry,” which of course continues today, but with the addition of climate change as a factor. It’s another human impact, like logging, but at one remove.

EB: Something that struck me throughout was the coming together of a sense of place and the sense of people. But there is also a sense of history. How do you balance all those things as a writer?

LW: Well, that was rather difficult to do. I was fortunate, when I was trying to write the first book, to be able to attend a few really good writing seminars. Bill Kittredge was very enthusiastic about the first project. “Nobody has written about that country,” he told me. He grew up near the headwaters of the Klamath River and was interested in the history of the whole drainage. Kim Barnes recognized the same elements of patriarchy and of families dependent on the lumber industry that she wrote about in her first memoir. Mary Clearman Blew – wonderful to recall – looked me in the eye and said, “You’re really a good writer.” And Rick Bass – defender of the Yaak – recognized the ecological and political undercurrents and encouraged me to write about them.

I had some good Forest Service sources to draw on, too. Several veterans of the Klamath National Forest – Gil Davies, Russ Bower, and Al Groncki – gathered a lot of material from both their own recollections and interviews with the Forest’s first generation, and also took care that old documents were preserved. The Forest published some of their work in-house. They were compilers rather than analyzers, but the raw material is there.

I mention Paul Hirt’s A Conspiracy of Optimism in the bibliographies. He dove deep into the layers of Forest Service and Congressional politics that drove resource extraction. He first made the connection for me between what I saw happening on the ground on the Happy Camp District and what was going on – and had long been going on — in Washington, D.C. I read it while working on the Salmon-Challis National Forest, where I could see the same dynamics at work.

EB: It seems to me that it is important to document stories like the ones you tell – stories of the small towns like Hilt and Happy Camp and of people that are experiencing a vanishing way of life. Are you optimistic about the future of the region?

LW: (I’m glad to hear you say that stories about small towns are important!) As a member of the post-World War II generation, I was raised with optimism, with the idea that things would get better, but when I look at the scientific consensus about warming and drying trends in the region, it’s hard to maintain a lot of optimism. Still, I am very glad to see the Karuk and Yurok people on the middle and lower Klamath River reestablishing traditional burning practices. I’m happy to learn of California condors soaring over the north coast once more. And I hope to be able to see for myself those four Klamath River dams come down, very soon. That will give me a bit of optimism for at least the near term future of salmon and steelhead on the Klamath.

EB: How has your writing changed in the period since White Poplar, Black Locust? Do some matters of technique and style strike you as evolving?

LW: I think I’m more confident now in my ability to just dive right into a story, and more confident that it will interest readers. That was a big hurdle for me with the first book: I knew that I was passionate about this place called Hilt, which was embedded so deeply in me. I couldn’t not write about it, but the challenge was to write well enough for publishers and readers to be interested. As far as style goes, I think I’m now better about cutting, and then cutting some more, than I used to be.

Literature of place – especially of place in the West – and memoirs by Western women have come of age over the past thirty-some years, and I’m sure reading in those genres has affected my style. Strangely enough, one of my earliest influences was Betty MacDonald, who wrote The Egg and I in the 1940s. The book was smoothly written and very funny, but it was its sense of place – the still-wild Pacific Northwest – that spoke to me. Her later memoir about the Depression, Anybody Can Do Anything, is in my opinion even better, with its focus on a family of (mostly) women struggling to (sometimes literally) survive in 1930s Seattle.

EB: At some points you mention the archeologist Jim Rock, whose historic can collection is documented in the Southern Oregon University library. Any recollections you can share?

LW: Jim was such a wonderful person, it’s hard to know where to stop once I get started. At the time that the first book came out, his wife Mary Ellen owned the bookstore on Miner Street in Yreka, and they put on a great book-signing event for me. I talked to Jim on the phone several times when I was writing the second book, and he actually tried to track down the details about a couple of incidents that I write about in Light on the Devils. His cynicism about the poor record-keeping on the part of Siskiyou County law enforcement turned out to be prescient; often, records either had not been kept or had been lost.

He was a grounded and practical person. He probably would have preferred that some of his friends not dig up old cabin sites and can dumps, but he once told me that to him the important thing was to document their locations, especially those inhabited by the Chinese miners. As far as artifacts went, all of the post-1850 sites contained the same mass-produced goods – at first brought in by pack trains from the coast, and later by wagon from inland. He was much more protective of the Native American sites. Those, as far as he was concerned, were not to be messed with.

Jim often put on archeological training sessions on the ranger districts, and the ones at Happy Camp were always fun. His slide show about how to date tin cans was an education in itself. I still remember him standing there at the front of the room, talking around the pipe clenched in his teeth. Unfortunately that pipe – or rather the tobacco he burned in it – would eventually kill him. Whenever I read an interesting news story about Siskiyou County, I wish I could call him up and get his acerbic take on it.

EB: Are you working on another book?

LW: Yes – two of them, in fact. It turns out that over thirty years of living in an Idaho valley bordered by three mountain ranges generates some stories. Who knew? The Forest Service will be back – with some of the same issues, and some new ones – and also showing up will be sheep, wolves, moose, and of course some neighbors. And – because I obviously don’t have enough to do – I’m taking a stab at writing a murder mystery based extremely loosely on the first job I ever had – working at a girls’ summer camp in the Sierra Nevadas.

EB: Thanks for talking with us.

LW: Thank you very much for talking with me, and I hope you have a wonderful summer out there in that good country under Mount Ashland.

 

 

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An Interview with Ellen Jovin, author of Rebel with a Clause

Ellen JovinEllen Jovin has a B.A. from Harvard College and an M.A. from UCLA and has studied twenty-five languages for fun. Jovin is a cofounder of Syntaxis, a communication consultancy, and the author of four books on English and writing,

She is the creator—and staff—of a traveling pop-up grammar advice stand called the Grammar Table, and her adventures as a traveling grammarian are recounted in her book Rebel with a Clause: Tales and Tips from a Roving Grammarian (HarperCollins, July 2022).

Ellen Jovin and her Grammar Table have traveled nearly 30,000 miles around the U.S. to address the most pressing—and amusing—grammar questions of our time. When not on the road and at the table, she lives with her husband, Brandt Johnson, on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.

Ed Battistella: I really enjoyed Rebel with a Clause. How did you get the idea to become a roving street grammarian?

Ellen Jovin: At first I was a street grammarian without much roving. My first stops involved roving from my apartment building to less than one block from my apartment building and plopping down a table with a sign. I’m not entirely sure why the Grammar Table occurred to me; one day it just did. I do know I was sick of spending so much time online in language chat groups, and I wanted more real-world contact. The computer lifestyle makes me cranky—I am a people person—so it seemed like a natural step to move backwards technologically off the internet to a no-tech, face-to-face medium. And by the way, I load the table up with actual physical reference books, with pages people can touch. I try to keep this grammar life very physical when I’m out there.

EB: You travelled far and wide. Did you have a grammarmobile?

EJ: I haven’t had a grammarmobile, but I’ve definitely had grammarmobile fantasies. My husband and I don’t even own a car here in Manhattan, so we had to rent a car for each Grammar Table road trip. For fun I’ve spent a little recreational time looking at trailers as well as cars with big trunks that could fit a Grammar Table plus luggage, and I’ve actually pondered what could go on the outside of the vehicle, but then I wondered—would a grammarmobile be a special target for anti-grammar graffiti? It might be! Therefore, if I ever did have a grammarmobile, it would probably need to be a special unmarked grammarmobile.

EB: So what are the best spots to talk grammar?

EJ: I follow the feet. I am dependent on foot traffic for my grammar customers. Without people, there are no questions. It’s easier to get visitors in dense urban areas with lots of foot traffic. After New York City, I found Detroit to be one of the pedestrian-friendlier stops we made. But smaller, more remote places are a lot of fun. Red Cloud, Nebraska, has only about 1,000 people in it, but I had tons of conversation with local residents there. In Austin, Texas, I set up along a dirt park path with tree parts hanging down into my hair. Traffic was sparser there in the trees and dirt, but where there is a path, there are people, and where there are people, there are grammar questions.

EB: I was really impressed with how much the people you talked with—from all walks of life—seemed to know about grammar and relieved to find that people are not as judgmental as I feared. Do you think grammar is divisive or does it have the potential to bring us together?

EJ: The field of linguistics has had an effect on popular attitudes toward grammar. More people understand that a language is neither monolithic nor immutable. You have less of the “This is how it has to be” attitude,” and often people I encounter have heard of prescriptivism and descriptivism. Those weren’t terms I knew when I was in school. Also, the underlying philosophy of the Grammar Table matters. If I approached the subject as a grammar snob, people would feel intimidated, or angered, or put off. And if your discussion of, say, colons is as much fun as a colonoscopy, it will not get a great response either. To me, participles are like a party, and language variety, while maybe not the spice of life, is a spice of life. We play with language at the Grammar Table. It’s a grammar party! And parties are unifying.

EB: What was the hardest grammar question you got along the way?

EJ: The hardest questions are always the ones that aren’t about grammar. For example: Where is the nearest public bathroom? Usually I have no idea. Or this: What is the centuries-long history of a particular word? A word-history question can be a whole research project.

In the realm of grammar, though, one of the hardest topics to explain, in my experience, is the difference between restrictive and nonrestrictive appositives. Hearing that terminology already puts people off, so never mind—let me just give you an example:

1. The witness Sarah Still was convincing.

2. The witness, Sarah Still, was convincing.

In one sentence there are multiple witnesses, and Sarah Still is one of them. In the other sentence, there is just one witness, and her name is Sarah Still. Which is which? Can we put the answer at the end of this interview and give people a chance to think about it while we continue with other things?

EB: Sure!  How did the experience change you? What did you discover or learn along the way?

EJ: I already knew people were full of surprises, but they are even fuller of surprises than I expected. The Grammar Table has reminded me to assume nothing. That unsmiling couple in biker gear standing far away from me may actually be concocting a question about gerunds. The homeless person carrying a sleeping bag may want to discuss dictionaries. The unkempt person with holes in his sweatpants may be a scholar of English literature. I got excellent questions and comments from all walks of life—from lawyers and editors to people who didn’t finish high school, people who work with their hands, high school students all dressed up for a homecoming dance, and so on. Handled with tact and openness, grammar chat isn’t sad and it isn’t inflammatory—it is happy and fun—and when you open a door to people, they will often walk in.

EB: You’ve studied a lot of languages—twenty-five, I read. Do you have a favorite, grammar-wise?

EJ: I hate to be predictable, because I feel this is going to sound trite, but I absolutely loved studying Italian. I love all the different ways you can say the word “the,” I love that lower-case “i” is an actual word, I love Italian past participles, I love the rolling r’s, I love the plural formation patterns for nouns, and so on. There is nothing quite like learning a new writing system, though, and acquiring skills in reading and writing words in Arabic—which lack vowel data and are written right to left and have sounds we don’t have in English—was, and still is, a magical language trip beyond what I could ever have expected. Language-learning keeps you young, by the way. Maybe it’s not scientifically proven, but I think it’s excellent brain lubrication.

EB: Can you tell us about your husband/videographer Brandt Johnson and the Rebel with a Clause documentary?

EJ: I met Brandt in 1994 at a party I didn’t want to go to, thrown by a mutual friend who had tried to set us up six months earlier but who had failed, because neither of us wanted to go on a blind date. We have been together ever since that party and have a communication skills training firm together called Syntaxis. Brandt is a hunky language nerd. He played professional basketball in Europe but then will bring up some totally random language point at three in the morning, which is hot. During our travels, he accumulated 366 hours of Grammar Table footage, including lots of B-roll. He stuck GoPros to our windshield wherever we went! He’s at about ninety minutes now of a movie draft—I don’t know that you are allowed to say “draft” for movies, but I like it—and is hard at work editing the material.

EB: What’s next? I love the idea of a Grammar Table musical. Just sayin’.

EJ: I’m so happy to hear that! Definitely the movie comes first, but I do really love the idea of a grammar musical. One of my favorite musicals ever was The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. I was in heaven for every minute of that show. If I could have a Grammar Table musical and a grammarmobile, I would be out of my mind with joy. In the meantime, I do respond to grammergencies at my Twitter account at @grammartable, so people can tag me or message me there.

EB: Thanks for talking with us. I’m recommending Rebel with a Clause to all my friends!

EJ: Well, I am recommending this interview to all my friends! I loved your questions. And thank you for reading my book.

Answer to the grammar question above:

1. The witness Sarah Still was convincing.

This sentence indicates that there are multiple witnesses; Sarah is just one of them. No commas.

2. The witness, Sarah Still, was convincing.

In this sentence, there is only one witness: Sarah Still. More on this topic in Rebel with a Clause!

 

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Coffee Houses and History, a guest post by Gray Blair

Coffee Houses and History: How Their Reputation has Evolved

Coffee houses are known today as places for first dates and novel writing, but their history is much more politically radical. Originally popularized in the Middle East during the ottoman empire, coffeehouses quickly gained a reputation as spaces for political debate and social interaction between classes. Coffee houses were similarly adopted by intellectuals and political revolutionaries in Europe and the United States. Though originally controversial, the increased commerciality of coffee houses and the growing popularity of online spaces for debate has led to a more subdued atmosphere in modern coffee shops. The association with academics and informal social conventions has remained, however. Where historic coffee houses were known for their lively debates and political nature, modern coffee shops have become a haven for uninterrupted study and comfortable conversation.

Originally favored as a way to boycott British imported tea, coffee soon became the prefered drink of American revolutionaries. In the chapter “Coffee Controversies and Threats to Social Order”, from her book Coffee Culture Local Experiences, Global Connections, Catherine Tucker describes how “American coffee houses offered opportunities for patriots to gather surreptitiously” (56). In France, coffee houses similarly played an integral role in the formation of the French Revolution. Many French political figures and revolutionaries, including Napoleon and Camille Desmoulins, frequented Parisian coffee houses as places for lively discussions and political debates (57). Coffee shops were a space for debating social issues and political unrest, and the overthrow of the French government was planned in some of Paris’ many coffee houses. How, then, did these radical political spaces evolve into the docile coffee shops of today?

Coffee houses were associated with social unrest from their very invention. As Gaudio writes in his article “Coffeetalk: Starbucks™ and the Commercialization of Casual Conversation”, “Almost from the moment of their inception, the earliest coffeehouses of western Europe, founded in Oxford and London in the mid-seventeenth century, were characterized as places where commoners and aristocrats alike could meet and socialize without regard to rank” (670). Even before they spread to London, coffee houses were integral to the development of the social sphere. The introduction of coffee houses in the Ottoman Empire started a shift in international social decorum. Coffee shops were some of the first non-religious spaces for people to gather and speak freely. Because alcohol consumption was not allowed under the Islamic faith, and restaurants were not widely used, there were few spaces for people to socialize outside of the home. Like the aforementioned coffee houses of London, these older shops provided a social meeting place for Muslims and non-Muslims alike. Unlike the coffee shops of today, these coffee houses were accused of encouraging “raucous noise late at night […] animated conversation, political debate, playing games […] and perhaps conducting certain prohibited activities” (Tucker, “Coffee Controversies and Threats to Social Order” 54). There were several attempts to ban coffee shops because of this, though none were successful (55). Instead, coffee shops developed into some of the most popular places for social interaction and discussion, with coffee becoming an iconic drink within the Ottoman empire.

Rather than encouraging “raucous noise” or “prohibited activities” as critics claimed, the caffeine kept people stimulated and without the drunkenness that comes with alcohol. The association between coffee shops and social unrest seems less based on the drink itself, and more on the atmosphere the shops provide. According to Tucker, “The introduction of coffee drinking […] subtly changed the social environment because it entailed a new context for social interactions. Caffeine drinkers tend to become more active and engaged intellectually, in sharp contrast to those who rely on alcoholic beverages for refreshment” (57). Later incarnations of Ottoman coffee houses were indeed much calmer and gained a reputation for their civil, intellectual conversations. Later these coffee houses were spread to England, where despite being loud and rowdy, coffee shops became popular with academics. Gaudio describes how “the classic English coffeehouse was thus characterized not just by its lively conversation […] but by the sophistication of its clientele, who were increasingly literate and eager to read and discuss contemporary works of literature that had become widely available thanks to recent advances in printing technology” (671). This combination of alert and increasingly educated customers led to the English phenomena of ‘penny universities’, where even the working class could access discussions of literature and culture for the price of a coffee. It was these calmer coffee houses from England and the late ottoman empire that gave way to the cafes we know today.

While modern cafes no longer incite revolutions, at least not on weeknights, the unique social atmosphere remains. Internet cafes have helped coffee houses retain their reputation for intellectual study while allowing for a new social niche to develop. After the invention of the printing press led to increased literacy, many coffee houses in London started printing newsletters and essays for their customers. As Gaudio writes, “the literary debates that took place in coffeehouses constituted a site of democratic political participation – a ‘sphere of public opinion’” (671). As the public sphere shifted online, cafes adapted as well. Modern coffee shops offer their patrons internet access, which has become increasingly important for pursuing an education and staying informed. According to Tucker in the chapter “Culture, Caffeine, and Coffee” from her book Coffee Culture Local Experiences, Global Connections, “The Internet allows coffeehouses to extend their reach as places of social interaction and centers to exchange news and information. The interactions may be virtual, but coffeehouses provide a physical bridge for communicating through cyberspace” (9). Coffee shops appeal to the desire for an in-person community and social interaction, while still offering a relatively peaceful atmosphere for individual study or online interaction. Where the freedom from social taboo in historic coffee houses encouraged lively debate and revolutionary thought, modern cafes offer a space for people to relax as individuals free from social pressures.

As modern cafes have become more individualistic, social expectations for cafe meetings have become fairly unique. In a 2015 study by Benjamin Garner researching the interpersonal rituals of coffee shops, participants described how “the environment [of cafes] represented casualness, relaxation, inspiration, and even self-disclosure […] the atmosphere was conducive for conversation and was quiet enough to enable listening and conversing” (8). Garner further describes how cafes offer a social ‘script’ conducive to informal but structured meetings, perfect for a first date or reconnecting with an old friend. The relaxed atmosphere still offers the social freedoms of old coffee houses, blended with the courtesy of meeting in a public space and a respect for personal privacy. This paradoxical blend of public and private life is best summarized by Tucker, who describes modern cafes as “the ideal place for people who want to be alone but need company for it” (“Culture, Caffeine, and Coffee Shops” 8). Tucker further posits that the peaceful atmosphere of coffee shops is what makes them so popular as communal spaces. She describes how “through coffeehouses, people can sense or imagine the ‘small world’ nature of society[…] such as learning that someone we just met has a friend who grew up in our neighborhood” (8). The small world theory refers to the idea that everyone is connected by only a few degrees of separation. Since their invention coffee shops have attracted a wide range of customers, and today they retain their reputation as a common ground for people from different social classes and backgrounds. Where this social mixing used to lead to lively debates, today it has created a calmer, more welcoming environment.

While coffee houses have their roots in political and social unrest, modern cafes are known as quiet spaces for study and relaxed conversation. The shift from controversial to casual nature for coffee shops was gradual, stretching across centuries and continents before settling into their current place in society. Nevertheless, the freedom from social boundaries and reputation as a neutral space for interpersonal connection has remained. Cafes have always been a place where people from different backgrounds can interact with each other freely and exist without expectation. As the idea of social demographics interacting became more commonplace, coffee culture lost the political edge it used to have. Coffee houses have not radically changed, they have merely adapted to modern society.

Gray Blair is a Junior at Southern Oregon University with an interest in writing.

Works Cited

Garner, Benjamin. “Interpersonal Coffee Drinking Communication Rituals.” International Journal of Marketing and Business Communication, vol. 4, no. 4, 2015. Crossref, https://doi.org/10.21863/ijmbc/2015.4.4.019.

Gaudio, Rudolf P. “Coffeetalk: StarbucksTM and the Commercialization of Casual Conversation.” Language in Society, vol. 32, no. 5, 2003, pp. 659–91. Crossref, https://doi.org/10.1017/s0047404503325035.

Tucker, Catherine M. “Coffee Controversies and Threats to Social Order.” Coffee Culture Local Experiences, Global Connections, 2nd Edition, New York, Routledge, 2017, pp. 53–58.. “Culture, Caffeine, and Coffee Shops.” Coffee Culture Local Experiences, Global Connections, 2nd Edition, New York, Routledge, 2017, pp. 3–10.

— “Coffee Controversies and Threats to Social Order.” Coffee Culture Local Experiences, Global Connections, 2nd Edition, New York, Routledge, 2017, pp. 53–58.

 

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