| First published in AmSAT News, no. 45, Summer 1999. |
This book offers a real “party mix” - pick out the cashews and leave whatever you personally dislike. Here are some of my cashews. Under the topic, “Defining movements of the neck and head,” the author enhances the text with good graphics that clarify for a beginner some possibilities of head-neck poise. These drawingsgive meaning to words that Alexander teachers often use.
There are several thoughtfull clarifying sentences, sections, and chapters. For example, under the heading, “The right thing does itself,” Chance states that our nervous system is already wired for the “appropriate recruitment of fatigable and non-fatigable muscle fibres” and will assert itself if we can get out of our own way. Another clear section concerns the dynamics of upright poise, “. . . placing the full weight of our body on our foot will mechanically cause a stretch along the fibres of some muscles in our foot. This in turn sets off a reaction called a “stretch” reflex The end result will be that our extensors maintain our upright stance.”
Humor is well used in the following example: “We say things like ‘I have a sore back. It would be truer to say ‘I am a sore back for . . . there is no bak that is sore separate from who I am. Alexander didn’t have a voice problem, he was a voice problem And this meant that he had to change his total reaction before he did anything else.” Looking at things in this way is profoundly different than is true for most people who come for Alexander lessons.
Chapters 3 and 4 contain good material for teaching patient self-observation. My favorite part of the entire book is Chapter 7, concerning Alexander’s discoveries. Here the author expands on Alexander’s own words and tells a good story at an appropriate introductory level. These three chapters (3, 4, and 7) might well have been integrated into one whole.
The pretzels (my personal dislikes) fell into one area that could have been addressed by more severe editing. A casual slangy verbal style may be appropriate for an in-person lecture-demo, a workshop, or for one-on-one teaching, but it makes for confusing language in an introductory book (especially one that claims to be “the only introduction you’ll ever need”). In the interest of cleverness often comes obscurity. Two examples suffice: “Here was his [a former pupil] problem dear as daylight to see, but he was too busy looking to look at his looking.” “The thing you want to learn is the absence of what you have, and that’s nothing.” These statemerits may mean something to Alexander teachers but are confusing for beginners.
Another unnecessary confusion occurs in (perhaps inadvertently) separating the “practical side” from the “conceptual framework.” As well as its practical side, there is an entire conceptual framework within which Alexander work rests - Alexander’s work, as much as anything, is a practical philosophy of life. Any “conceptual framework” came after the fact of the eminently practical discoveries, and I think it is a disservice to students of the Technique to even appear to separate the work into “practical side” and “concepts” or philosophy.
There is also the slippery slope of dividing the “emotions” from the “body” (“. . . relationship between emotion and bodily states of tension”); or of dividing the “mind” from the “body” (the Alexander work is not body therapy, but “about how your mind influences your body and vice versa”). Existing language does not help us, because these words seem to mean that the parts of the self are really separate. It behooves us as Alexander communicators to try to use language that integrates rather than separates. FM tried to say clearly what he meant about the wholeness of the self in his writing and his teaching.
I agree with the author that we do not need Chapter 6 about teaching lineages. He expects bad press for doing so, so why do it? This topic may have some interest for individual teachers, but it is inappropriate in an introductory book.
A critical editor might also have excised such phrases as “the more advanced abuse of Alexander lessons;” and “Alexander hands-on work does mess around with your insides. . .” These words would scare me off if I were reading them with no experience of lessons. The third chapter has some useful experiments to be used on your own if you have no access to a teacher, but includes this discouraging statement: “I don’t promise that you will get anywhere with them or that you won’t make an even bigger mess of things than when you began.” Why bother?
In sum, this small book contains some useful language and some confusing language, and would best be read in the context of one-on-one lessons with a teacher skilled both with her/his hands and in articulating F.M.’s thoughts, words, and the practical nature of his discoveries.
© Jane R. Heirich. Reproduced with permission.
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This edition © Mouritz 2005. All rights reserved. |
