In Ethnography/Memoir/Imagination/Story, Paul Stoller looks at ethnography from an anthropological perspective.  He notes that because he thinks of anthropology of the most personal of the human sciences, “the personal usually has a deep impact on the professional.  For me, living anthropology has been profoundly personal.”  He describes the many areas of expertise that anthropology has been known but emphasizes that the bedrock of anthropology is ethnography, which he eloquently refers to as the following:

…our enduring gift to the world, a gift that sometimes enables readers to understand the wisdom of others, which, in turn, can open their being to an increasingly complex and interconnected world (179).

This, of course, rings very true, considering the many cultures that anthropologists research and report on.  Once again, as in the past few articles we have read, we have an article in which the writer states that the genre he chooses to use for his reporting is considered inaccurate to some scholars.  He states, “Some people consider ethnography more like a method of doing social research than a district literary genre…” (179)

            The question that is paramount in Stoller’s mind is this: how can an ethnographic work, based on long-term research, remain open to the world?  He notes that a sense of locality is important and that a common reaction of a memorable ethnography might elicit a reaction such as: ‘I felt like I was there.  I felt the pulse of the sun and the itch of the dust in my eye.’  Another important consideration is – and, yes, this is going to sound like fiction – is the importance of character.  That is, when you read about the people that he is reporting on, do you get a sense that you know that person? (181). Interestingly that is what I tell my students that a strong writing voice conveys.  Still, that is not enough, to truly make a connection – the ethnographer must be able to get you to relate to the human qualities, such as “love and loss, fear and courage, fate and courage” (181).  In this way, the reader is truly able to identify with and relate to the anthropologist’s observations.

            Throughout Stoller’s article, he refers to Adamu Jentongo as a wise man who summed up the role of an ethnographer perfectly in the following remark: “You may write a good deal about us, but to understand us, your life must become entwined in ours.  To understand us you must grown old with us.”  With that, it definitely sounds that the anthropology-minded ethnographer does his or her research with a lifetime commitment in mind (181). 

            Stoller describes memoir as a “slippery slope” that anthropologists should consider incorporating into their work as it can extend the readership, assuming that the narrative is written well and not a tedious account of the author’s life (182).  He notes that “wounded storytelling” is popular and brings about a sense of “clarity and calm.”  I find this ironic, given the fact that currently in my AVID class, my 7^th grade students are writing memoirs, and the majority of them have chose topics which include a malady of injuries – due to reckless behavior in the house, accidents with quads, and jumping off of high places.  Stoller states, “wounded storytellers say illness has given them a fresh and more appropriate perspective on life.  They often speak of being able to sense what is truly important in life” (183). 

            As, presumable most writers do, Stoller places a high emphasis on imagination, which “enables us to ell stories, which give birth to new stories, which generate in their turn, more stories.”  He notes that in various genres anthropologists tell other people’s stories, but “in so doing, as Adamu Jenitongo once reminded me, we also tell our own stories.”