We want to talk about what we enjoy most in academic writing. Not about the content or influence, the substance of the writing, but the writing, the quality of the actual writing. This is as close as we have got to a ‘top ten’, the sort of lists popular with podcasts. There are five ‘qualities’ that we discuss, and we tried to give some examples of academic writers who exemplify each of these qualities.

The first quality is ‘literary’ writing, the elegant writing that might be expected of a novelist. Its aesthetic qualities impress the reader, and it is a pleasure reading the text. Examples include the writing of Anne Pirrie, and Gillian Simpson, both of whom we have worked with. Apparently effortless, lyrical, writing – like (good) dancing, hiding its skill and effort.

The second quality is clarity. Overall, the writing fits together, and makes for a consistent argument and a straightforward structure. Each sentence can be clear and lucid too, without unnecessary flannel or confusing ambiguity. Aristotle’s writing has this quality, with Plato better at the ‘literary’ qualities.

Third, enthusiasm that comes over in the writing. This can be a simple enthusiasm about the topic, or a ‘bigger’ enthusiasm, a visible activism that shows how much the writer wants to change the world. Two writers are mentioned, bell hooks and Gloria Ladson-Billings, both of whom are enthusiasts who manage to avoid ‘preachiness’. They are authentic and more invitational than preachy.

Forth comes writing that is full of knowledge. Ninian Smart’s book of a thousand years of philosophy, or Nel Noddings guide to the philosophy of education, are given as examples of single authors managing to write what you would think would be the work of a whole team. There are many more such writings.

And the fifth category is the sort of writing that ‘rescues’ you. You are stuck, in your own research and writing, and one book can help ‘unstick’ you. The writing that can get you over a barrier. Even better if it can keep getting you over a variety of barriers. Another mention of bell hooks, and John Macmurray can do this too. For us, at least.

These are overlapping categories, but it’s always worth looking out for the qualities in academic writing that you find helpful. And the writers who achieve these qualities. What works for you?

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Punctuation is what we all use, but rarely think about. Academic writing suffers from poor punctuation more than most genres. Too many academics forget to use a full stop, for example, partly, perhaps, because they think their thoughts just go on and on and on, and mustn’t be interrupted. But the full stop is a wonderful little piece of punctuation, in good uses, giving the reader a chance to take a breath, albeit in bad uses a bit of a macho mark. Commas are good friends for marking out sub-clauses, but they have a secret: they are great at emphasising the word before the comma. Semi-colons can create a neat two-part sentence. Exclamation marks have almost no role in academic writing. Question marks remind us that questioning should be at the heart of all research. (Real questions, not those pesky rhetorical ones.) Colons are good introductions, like a well-mannered party-host. We even discuss en-dashes and em-dashes – the latter expressing poetic openness when used at the end of a sentence, as in the poetry of Emily Dickinson. (In academic writing, em-dashes are more useful at providing for subclauses, when there are already too many commas in the sentence.) Bullet-points are like showy semi-colons.

Punctuation marks are quiet alternatives to emojis, and Lynn Truss has written whole books about them. We just have a podcast.

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