Very little has been written about the quite noticeable tendency of God to address himself in the Old Testament, starting with the opening chapters in Genesis and continuing, intermittently, until 2 Kings. These speeches may very well be the oldest examples we have of what James Hirsh calls “self-addressed soliloquies,” but they cannot be analyzed based on some of the theoretical ideas of Kenneth Burke, Chaim Perelman and Lucie Olbrechts-Tyteca, Augustine (who invented the term), or Harold Bloom. As my analysis of these speeches shows, God's rhetoric in these speeches, his ethos, is highly elliptical, ironic, and contradicts most of what readers expect from a soliloquy.

Very little has been written about the quite noticeable tendency of God to address himself in the Old Testament, starting with the opening chapters in Genesis and continuing, intermittently, until 2 Kings. These speeches may very well be the oldest examples we have of what James Hirsh calls “self-addressed soliloquies,” but they cannot be analyzed based on some of the theoretical ideas of Kenneth Burke, Chaim Perelman and Lucie Olbrechts-Tyteca, Augustine (who invented the term), or Harold Bloom. As my analysis of these speeches shows, God’s rhetoric in these speeches, his ethos, is highly elliptical, ironic, and contradicts most of what readers expect from a soliloquy.

Imitation has long been a method and theoretical basis for rhetorical instruction. It has also enjoyed a complex, if not always glorious, history-a lineage which extends from the apprenticeship of sophists in Plato's Greece to the moral education of orators in Quintilian's Rome; from the nurturing of abundant expression in a Renaissance text by Erasmus to the cultivation of taste in an Enlightenment text by Hugh Blair. In the last few decades, however, we have witnessed dramatic changes in how we look upon imitation-changes largely influenced, we think, by the process movement, with its various emphases on invention and revision, expression and discovery, cognition and collaboration. In the wake of shifting so much of our attention to writing processes, we might well expect imitation to have been pronounced as dead as Nietzche's God was a century ago. But if the literature reviewed here is any indication, rumors of imitation's death have been greatly exaggerated. Most of the studies in our survey are favorablyand surprisingly-disposed to imitation's continued practice. Such studies typically call for a revised understanding of imitation, a novel approach which reveals the proponent's understanding of the need to somehow demonstrate imitation's acceptability to a community which presumably resists its use. Why? Most likely because imitation turns on assumptions about writing and learning which many find discomforting, if not altogether objectionable. There are, of course, fairly complex historical, cultural, and theoretical reasons for our current aversion to imitation, many of which we explore later in our review. But the important point for us is that those who argue for imitation-however much they may differ in their various arguments-share an awareness that its use must be justified in answer to, and anticipation of, its critical refusal by the community at large. What we infer from this awareness is the community's largely tacit rejection of imitation. That's not to say, of course, that explicit criticism of imitation is wholly absent from the literature.' But in a context where many readily assent to the idea that almost any form of direct imitation leads to a distortion of the writing process, there is little urgency to speak against its use in the writing classroom (Judy and Judy 127). Indeed, only those who desire a reevaluation of imitation need

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