Buchanan argues brightly that many young readers are irritated and repelled by Socrates' conduct of the argument, and they never get over it; Buchanan then recommends a traditional system for making the dialogues accessible to "stalled beginners," but he confesses that it is a flawed system. Buchanan's spirited essay should be read entire; perhaps he is correct in concluding that there is not and can never be a "system" for reading the dialogues.
Yet, there can be no disputing the fact that the participants in the Republic do adopt the rhetorical ploy of flyting at one another (that is, they engage — in a friendly fashion — in the sort of exchange of smiling insults that often precedes physical combat), and that "seeing" and "hearing" this use of language may aid any "stalled beginner" or even a seasoned Guardian of whatever academic state.
It is a commonplace of any American street scene that a minor character, generally a toady to some other major person, will appear and make some sort of humble request, ask a fawning favor. In American street argot, the response to that sort of behavior is verbalized: "Don't be pulling on my coat." The literal act of pulling on one's coat is the first "deed" (ergos, action) of the Republic; the logos (what is said) will follow as the dialogue is joined. The dramatic movement of the dialogue may be said to begin in the middle of things; the occasion is that of a parade celebrating a party in honor of a fertility goddess. When Socrates, whose coat is pulled, and Glaucon are overtaken by Polemarchus and his cronies, the flyting begins. Polemarchus tells Socrates that he and Glaucon had better come to Polemarchus' house for dinner; the invitation is couched in physically threatening language: "You see how outnumbered you are." Thus the flyting which permeates the dialogue begins.
