Northern, with a capital ‘N’

Recently I got some feedback on my MA dissertation, and one of the comments from one of the markers was that I’d used some odd capitalisation. Without seeing the marked work itself I still have some idea about what they were referring to, especially as they wrote the word ‘northern’ in my feedback with a lower case ‘n’. My work was based about the regionality of the Old Poor Laws, and I frequently referred to regions, and capitalised them, i.e. North, South-East etc. Now this is in no way a dig at the academic, who has been helpful throughout the year, gave me a good mark, and always delivers particularly eloquent seminars (and probably has much better reasons than me as to why the North-West should not have capitals), but it made me think about whether or not these regions deserve capitalisation, and consequently whether or not they are, or should be treated as ‘places’.

In my mind, and I imagine in the minds of many others, the North is identifiable as different in plenty of ways. It has its own culture, politics, its own landscape, different weather, and is undeniably different economically. It is seen differently. Did you ever notice that the BBC has a North of England correspondent, but not a Southern one? The North is a place, where you can go, and meet Northerners, and be in the North, and as such deserves a capital. And before you think I write lopsided essays, I believe the same to be true for the South and the Midlands.

But what constitutes a ‘place’? Another academic at Leicester once told me that after considerable thought on the issue, for him it came down to notions of common history within a geographical area, and hence didn’t consider various dormitory towns to be ‘places’. Therefore should we have Barnsley, Wolverhampton and Gloucester, yet also have crawley, milton keynes and slough? It has often struck me that places of the latter nature have been built to serve other places, in this case largely London, and I am aware that in the minds of some, this would discount their claims to some sort of local authenticity. I’m sure that this view links in some way to some leftist leaning against them, where their creation has been seen as a consequence of recent free market booms favouring these areas. However, I can’t think of many areas that weren’t ultimately built to serve other places that have been conjured up by profiteering, for instance Barrow-in-Furnace and its shipyards, or Ebbw Vale and its steelworks; surely the only difference is the distance of the commute? All of these places were new at some point, and consequently lacked geographic common histories.

Where exactly should the line be drawn between what’s a place and what’s not, i.e., where gets that precious capital letter? We all like to think we’re a bit ‘unique’, look at the amount of provenance claimed by football fans, ‘could only happen to us’, etc. Street names get capitals, and in many cases the inhabitants of one will define themselves against another, and this is even truer at the level of housing estates. Of course these are to some extent entities in their own right. I would consider Yorkshire to be a region, but for me it is less of an entity than the North-East; the contrasts between the villages of North Yorkshire and the ex-industrial areas of the South and West are stark to say the least.

The point that I’m not sure about is why I want to define my region of the country, The North, as a separate place from The South. Is this desire to consider it as separate and different not slightly counter-productive as the region continues to attempt to find its post industrial legs? Is there much there for me to take this strange pride in? Sure the region was Britain’s industrial powerhouse, but it hasn’t bounced back fantastically, and some of the stereotypes associated with the North can be, aside from offensive, painfully true. The mindset is a bit masculine to attach to, and not especially academic. This mindset ties to the idea that some places have greater authenticity due to their industrial past, than new commuter belt towns, frequently Southern, and frequently dismissed by militant Northerners.

I think the point is that perhaps these region’s peoples are different, on a human level, in terms of behaviour and outlook, even though they’ve been shaped by forces beyond their own control, i.e. geography and consequently economics (for instance having to locate industry near raw materials and easy access routes). Regardless of this they choose to take pride in what they consider to be genuine uniqueness; their view of their own, or another’s area, is essentially self reflection and a display of personal value, and what would we be as beings if we lacked this? If nothing else (and there is plenty else) this existence of places should be recognised with capitals.

Something's Got to Give

MA results were published this week meaning that there are a lot of happy and relieved history students floating around at the moment! It also means that a lot of us are looking back at the past year and feeling immensly grateful that it was not a waste of time and hopefully reflecting upon everything we've learned and the way we've all grown as historians and researchers.

Its this mood of reflection that I wanted to touch upon. I came out with a pass which initially I was a little bit dissapointed with having maintained a merit throughout the rest of the course. It was my dissertation that let me down in the end as I suspected it might as it was written while I was working full time and waist deep in two separate PhD proposals - it was a stressful summer. I knew at the time that I simply wasnt giving the dissertation the time it needed to be a good, solid piece of research but I also knew that I was giving it all the time I physically could, short of abandoning sleep. So while i was dissapointed I was also accepting.

This in turn made me think of the choices we all make during our studies and the other things that muscle in on the time we would otherwise devote to learning. Finances are an issue that affect most students and thanks to recent governmental decisions its not something thats going to get any easier to manage in the near future. I have always worked as well as studying, having two jobs during my BA and working as a subwarden and in the SU to finance my MA. There were times when this was difficult (frequent 5am callouts to deal with drunk and often vommiting students being particularly trying moments) but on the whole it is definitely not something I regret doing. I got a lot out of working; i made friends outside of my course, gained experience and had something separate to my studies to spend time on which proved helpful for my sanity.

However when it came to writing my dissertation this summer I found that I had definitely bitten off more than I could chew. Taking on a full time job meant that i could stay in Leicester and access the library my supervisor and ultimately pay my rent, but also meant that I was devoting 36 hours a week and considerable thought and energy to something that wasnt my dissertation. Applying for a PhD at the same time meant that I had deadlines that seemed more urgent and more pressing to claim my attention. The result was pretty inevitable, I came out with a pass when really I should have done better. However my dissapointment has passed as I've been thinking about everything I gained from the MA beyond the mere qualification. I have grown and learned a lot in the last year, more so, I think, than all three years of my BA. I have been introduced to new conepts and methods that I never would have encountered otherwise and ultimately feel much more sure of my ability to start my PhD in January.

For those lucky few who receive funding, this is not something you have to worry about and, I wont lie, I hate you a little bit for that ... However there are definitely worse things than working to fund your studies. The moral of the story is just to be aware of your limitations and what is feasible in the ammount of time you have and not try and push yourself beyond either of those things. Something always has to give and you just have to be aware of what that thing will be.

No votes! No golf ! Alice Hawkins and the Leicester Suffragettes

Alice Hawkins and the Suffragette movement in Edwardian Leicester by Richard Whitmore is an interesting read.

Alice Hawkins worked in the Leicester shoe industry at the turn of the century and was a founder member of the local branch of the Women's Social and Political Union. The Leicester branch was notable for the level of interest it aroused among working class women

Hawkins was a trade unionist and a socialist who became disillusioned with the hostility women trade unionists received from their male counterparts and in 1911 she helped found a independent women's union in the industry.

Although from 1908 the Chistabel Pankhurst directed the focus of the movement to middle class women-Hawkins remained a committed member-convinced that if women got the vote this would enable an avalanche of change.

When the militant campaign was in full force in Leicester during 1912-1914-women attacked pillar boxes in Leicester either burning them or pouring ink(or some other black liquid) through the slot. They also burned down Blaby railway station and inscribed 'No votes -no golf' on the turf at the Leicester Golf course in Stoughton Drive.

Alice Hawkins kept a scrapbook about the movement and her relatives loaned this to Richard Whitmore for his research.

Poppies and Pride

I didn’t buy a poppy this year, largely because I didn’t pass any for sale, but at the same time I didn’t hunt one out, and it didn’t crucify me with guilt that I wasn’t wearing one, though given the option I probably would have been. At the risk of sounding cantankerous, wearing a poppy is not what it was.

Partly this attitude is attributable to my own leanings. I make a feeble nationalist, failing to understand exactly what makes our lump of land so special in comparison to everyone else’s lump of land, and, despite being a serious football fan, having a good chuckle to myself whenever the national team underperform. However I consider nationalism and its associated noise to be part of the problem with our approach to remembrance, and I’m sure I’m not alone.

The attitude taken to poppy wearing in recent years has become incredibly gung ho, and seems to be coupled with a wider rise in nationalism. The reasons for this are endlessly debatable, but it certainly exists. Everyone saw the news regarding poppies on the England team's shirts when they played Spain on 12th November. Remember the commotion when England played on the same date in 2005 or in 2001? Exactly. It appears to be particularly strong amongst my own generation. The amount of pictures of poppies that appeared on my Facebook on Armistice Day, accompanied by endless xenophobic slogans and statuses was staggering. This display was far too often a celebration of nationhood, as opposed to a genuine act of remembrance. However this celebratory approach, admittedly with fewer profanities, is carried on throughout our society. In adverts for Remembrance Sunday on the BBC we had Helen Mirren telling us that the troops were the ‘stars’. Now I do not doubt the bravery of those who have gone into the theatre of conflict, and I could not stress more how my heart goes out to anyone connected to a loss of life in such circumstances, but when the Iraq war alone saw over 130,000 civilians lose their lives, is ‘star’ with its various connotations of fame and joyful triumph, really the right word to use? We seem to be in a place where not wearing a poppy is politically incorrect; paradoxically a position promoted by many of the tabloids.

This renewed vigour associated with remembrance and the wearing of a poppy has perhaps inevitably been coupled with a shiny commercial face. You may well have seen the Andy Murray adverts asking us to ‘remember those who don’t return’; a celebrity endorsed pun, really? It’s understandable that some, whatever their role in society, may choose to jump on what appears to be an attempt to boost the national self esteem. Is it unforeseeable that in years to come, we will see various poppy paraphernalia becoming available from mid-October? Such as shiny and inflatable poppies, and (God forbid) ones that play the last post when squeezed?

Of course money does have to be raised, and I could never fault the cause behind the poppy. However surely this responsibility should lie more squarely with the government? It’s often their doing that the mess has occurred in the first place, and money would be raised without the risk of using mollifying gimmicks that could hide the true nature of the cause.

I’m by no means saying that poppies should be ditched, but they’re being flaunted in a way that detracts from their true meaning. They’re far too often a symbol that says ‘we won’, whereas they
should be a stark reminder of the futility of war. The idea of wearing ‘your poppy with pride’ should really be something more remembrance based, as we risk losing the true meaning of the day. Of course in a perfect world there would be no need for the armed forces anyway.

Writing Routines

Back when I was an undergraduate, and especially as a fresher, I convinced myself that academic creativity came best under intense pressure. What this meant in practice was staying up all hours the night before an essay was due, in a frenetic caffeine haze, pacing wildly, and occasionally plunging myself into a cold shower. When I eventually finished at about 5am, I would nip over to the all-night Spar, wide-eyed and staring at the other night-folk, as we acknowledged that there wasn't something quite right about what we were doing. Ashamedly, I'd buy a four-pack of strong ale - perhaps Old Speckled Hen or Marston's Old Empire - and let it nuzzle me to sleep as I desperate tried to forget essay words.

Furthermore....however...yet....although....paradoxically....hypothetically....pathetically....miserably...in conclusion...

Finally, about twenty minutes before submission, I would leg it across Victoria park, half-delirious, to drop it into the essay box, before collapsing in a crumpled pile. Though definitely damaging to mind and body this process was, it was a writing routine. I did it almost religiously - though arguably more like a naive follower who didn't know any better. Gradually the routine took place later and later, to the extent that the trip to Spar had to take place after, rather than before, submission. Eventually I came to think of it as stupid, and so I would start essays in advance, plan them properly, and finish at a reasonable hour - something I still try to maintain now.

Back in the present day, and I am struggling with writers block. The only real routine I have at the moment... is not having a routine. Sometimes I don't work in the mornings, instead watching BBC iPlayer, and then work into the night. I'll work on trains, and then play on the computer when I get to the office. Bit by bit, the work is getting done anyway. I was beginning to wonder then whether it was beneficial to have a writing routine at all. Then I stumbled across this website http://dailyroutines.typepad.com/ detailing some writing exploits which made my old routine look childish and wimpish.

"Perhaps the finest writer ever to use speed systematically, however, was W. H. Auden. He swallowed Benzedrine every morning for twenty years, from 1938 onward, balancing its effect with the barbiturate Seconal when he wanted to sleep. (He also kept a glass of vodka by the bed, to swig if he woke up during the night.) He took a pragmatic attitude toward amphetamines, regarding them as a "labor-saving device" in the "mental kitchen," with the important proviso that "these mechanisms are very crude, liable to injure the cook, and constantly breaking down."

John Lanchester, "High Style," The New Yorker, January 6, 2003"

Fantastic! Other writers had/have more mundane, though just as productive, routines. John Grisham used to rise at 5am every day, and wrote the first word at 530am. President Obama exercises in the morning, and doesn't begin working until 9am. Many highlight the importance of rituals: coffee, cigars, showering, dinner, walking. While I can only dream of being as successful as these people, one thing is clear - there is no such thing as the one routine that works for everyone.

Does anybody have any particularly interesting routines they follow?

The Man Who Loved Books Too Much: The Story of a Thief, a Detective, and a World of Literary Obsession

At the most I consider books to be like romantic flings. They can be too long, often end with me feeling confused, and almost always cost a lot more than they're worth. Yet I know I can't do without them, I have my fair share, and I'll almost certainly acquire some more. Before I lapse too far into an offensive Swiss Tony stereotype, I should note that I of course respect the absolute necessity of books (and romantic flings!). As a history student, I would be an idiot not to. But love? No. To me, books are from where I absorb knowledge, some enjoyment, and, hopefully, a career. I get no pleasure from hunting them down at car-boot sales, seeing them lined up on a shelf, and I certainly do not view mere ownership as a symbol of social position or intellect.

The Man Who Loved Books Too Much then is not about me. If it was, it would probably have been titled The Man Who Was Somewhat Indifferent About Books and Working In General. Instead, Allison Hoover Bartlett wisely chose the curious true story of John Charles Gilkey - a man consumed by his insatiable desire to own rare books. Taking place across the USA, Bartlett periodically meets the charming and devious Gilkey as he defrauds bookstores and libraries out of hundreds of thousands of dollars, trying to understand both his motivation and willingness to repeatedly break the law in spite of his many incarcerations. Bartlett balances this tale by also giving a platform to the bookstore owners and bibliophiles affected by Gilkey's deception. Ken Sanders, a book dealer and amateur detective enraged by rare book thieves, features the most prominently as he attempts to track down Gilkey and bring him to justice.

The Man Who Loved Books Too Much however is not just a formulaic tale of a passionate detective and his one great unsolved case. Throughout the book Bartlett takes brief sojourns to regale the reader with short and interesting anecdotes of famous book collectors, infamous book thefts, and other book-related stories. It's hard to not be drawn in when reading these asides, and it breaks up what could otherwise be a fairly standard cat-and-mouse chase. Bartlett also ruminates on the nature of obsession throughout the ages, and looks deep into Gilkey's psyche, while also giving the reader an insight into her own relationship with books and collecting.

Though, on occasion, Bartlett's analysis was in danger of lapsing into pseudo-psychology, and I am not sure that Gilkey was as naive of his culpability as she portrays, it is still a read I can highly recommend. Well-researched, based on personal interviews as well as academic sources, and fastidiously written, at no point however is it dry or boring. Every reader of reviews knows that the compliment of 'page-turner' is overused, but in this case it is accurate - I finished the book in two sittings over one weekend. Bartlett does a great job of pulling the reader into a really niche section of society, of which most of us will have no prior knowledge, and reveals it in the most vivid of ways.

Now, where's that stolen credit card? I've just spied a genuine first edition of Crime and Punishment on eBay...

UNESCO

Today's events (or more specifically the following news http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-15527534) have prompted me to seek the LAB's insights.

Surely it cannot be right to prevent a group of people having representation?
After all 'in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people ... to assume among the powers of the earth , the seperate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them ...' (US Declaration of Independence)

When is the right time for recognition?
Who decides when it is time?

Can other people sense that something is wrong?

Of course the 'Arab-Israeli' is not straightforward but I can imagine historians writing about how the USA's foreign policy contributed to a very slow 'peace process'.

What do you think Labbers? Have I missed something?

We Need to Talk about Kevin

On Saturday I went to see Lynne Ramsay's film adaptation of We need to talk about Kevin based on the book by Lionel Shriver. This, as I'm sure you know, is about a Columbine style high school massacre carried out by a sixteen year old called Kevin. The book caused havoc between friends and in book clubs up and down the country as people violently disagreed with each other about who was responsible for the murders -Kevin or his Mum. This could be a bit alarming. I once told someone (innocently) that I thought the book was ambiguous about who was responsible -this was met with absolute fury and the suggestion that I was a bit of a dodgy person.

When I heard that Tilda Swinton-who you may remember was a seriously terrifying White Witch in the Chronicles of Narnia -had been cast as Kevin's Mum -I thought well that's it- they are going to make the mother responsible-with no ambiguity at all!

However, this was not the case. It was a very good film -though difficult to watch. I thought the ambiguity was still there-though probably more blame was put on Kevin than his mother. However doubtless people will disagree!

Tilda Swinton was very impressive-giving a very subtle performance that was miles away from the wicked witch-on the level of a Meryl Streep performance.

What is interesting though is the way this story hit such a nerve with people-the subject is obviously very upsetting but why did people row about it rather than discuss it?

Expose the Lies Before Maggie Dies

Being from Liverpool there are certain things that are just a part of your identity whether you like it or not. Our name, "Scousers" which stems from the Norwegian Lobscouse or Lapskause (a type of meat stew), The Beatles, Anne Clough, Gladstone and even Kim Cattrall form parts of our identity of which we are particularly proud. Then there's that Harry Enfield sketch, the less said about which the better.

One of the most prominent and divisive aspects of Scouse identity is football. While applying this to everyone in Liverpool would be a hideous generalisation, a large part of the city is divided along red and blue lines, with an inbuilt hatred of whomever you class as the opposition coming to most as naturally as breathing. For the most part this is clear cut and simple, until you broach the more problematic topic of Hillsborough.

The title of this post is taken from several groups (and something called a trendmap....) on Facebook expressing anger regarding the coverage of events at Hillsborough on 15th April 1985 which claimed the lives of 96 people and injured 766 more - all of whom were Liverpool fans.

Despite the conclusions of the Taylor Report - that failure of police control was the primary cause of the disaster - insinuations of blame on the part of the Liverpool fans caused and continues to cause outrage in Liverpool. In an article entitled "The Truth" the Sun accused Liverpool fans of pickpocketing victims, urinating on emergency services and assaulting a police officer administering CPR, all of which were later proved to be hearsay. Despite admitting since that its coverage of Hillsborough was 'the most terrible blunder' in its history, the above accusations are not easily forgotten - a fact reflected in the persistently low circulation of the Sun in Liverpool.

As a Blue I have never felt the same ownership of the legacy of the tragedy that a lot of my Red friends obviously hold. However the recent debate on the disclosure of all documents relating to Hillsborough made me realise how affected by it I actually am. Red or Blue there is a common sense that the families of the victims are still being denied information and that justice for the 96 cannot totally be achieved until there is complete transparency about what happened.

My personal reaction to the debate brought home to me that however close one may personally feel to the tragedy, it has become a fundamental part of Scouse identity. The shared sense of outrage and a lack of resolution evoked by Hillsborough were mirrored in the outpouring of anger and grief at the shooting of Rhys Jones. Such things, when shared, generate unity. I personally will never forget the moment when, in the aftermath of Rhys' death, Z-Cars was played in full to absolute silence at Anfield.

While our allegiances may be firmly declared on match days, Scousers share a sense that we are still being lied to and about and it is that which rankles. Whatever the result of the debate Hillsborough will always be a key part of Scouse identity and I think Scousers, football fans or no, will wait with bated breath for the outcome.

Justice for the 96.

The Association of British American Nineteenth Century Historians (BrANCH) and musings on networking

This weekend just passed saw the annual conference of the aforementioned BrANCH at Madingley Hall, just outside Cambridge, and also saw my first substantial jaunt into the world of academic assemblage. I won’t say I felt like a five-year-old approaching the school gates for the first time...because I was driving. But it certainly felt like entering a new world, at least a little bit, as I trundled up the tree-lined avenue of the charming country grounds at Madingley. As the busy car park informed me, the turnout was very healthy indeed. Scholars had travelled from a whole variety of institutions, from Oxbridge to Vanderbilt, and Paris-Diderot to Chengchi (in Taiwan). (And, of course, our very own University of Leicester was well-represented, by Drs. Clapp and Campbell, if not myself!)

The topics of research at this year’s meeting were, as ever, a diverse bunch, ranging from the impact of animals on the wagon trails emigrating West, to White Southern attitudes towards the literacy of slaves, sexual negotiation in Texas prisons, political identity in the Civil War North, and federal disaster relief. Whilst one often finds oneself sitting in a stuffy room, listening to papers not of immediate interest, trying desperately not to drift off to sleep, it is always good to see that historians are still doing what they do best – asking new and unheard of questions, uncovering new sources, and pushing the boundaries of research.

But then conferences were never simply about the papers presented. The aspect I enjoyed most about this weekend, to be truthful, was the opportunity afforded by the generous number of coffee and food breaks. What a surprise, you might think! But, like the prospect of hugging a tiger, the chance to network has never really appealed to me. Call it shyness, an inferiority complex, (a general aversion to being eaten alive), or whatever, but I have always harboured a dread of this aspect of academic life. Such a fear was never, and still isn’t, helped by those people who ask interesting questions of you, and then spend the next few minutes looking over your shoulder, or smiling inanely, clearly not listening. But then perhaps it is I that needs to be more engaging!

I was saved by a very early realisation that, at conferences, everyone is largely in the same boat. Even established academics need places to share their ideas and gain insights from others, and whilst their experience separates them, somewhat, from post-grads such as myself, they still seem to take great pleasure from the simple question of what it is they are researching. Remarkably similar to asking an old tramp how he is doing, or asking a cab driver what he thinks about the government’s latest plans, nothing seems to enamour oneself to an academic more than making such an enquiry!

In the past, my networking style usually consisted of finding someone standing on their lonesome, and making small-talk with them until it was time to enter the next session. I never really understood the true definition of the term ‘mingle’. How could I muscle my way into other people’s conversations? Such rudeness! But one soon realises that this is how it happens – although perhaps not always with the muscling. Networking usually consists of little triangles or squares, with one or more of the apexes shifting at regular intervals. New contacts are made, fresh conversations are developed, and innovative insights garnered. My only regret was that I was not able to make full use of these occasions. Because Madingley was relatively close to home, I chose to drive in every day rather than lodge. But, whilst saving a bit of cash, I missed the morning and evening social sessions. And I couldn’t drink! If only that had occurred to me at the time! So my advice would be to lodge, if at all possible. For the networking opportunities, of course, rather than the booze...

P.S. Highlight of the weekend - beating UCL in my first ever game of croquet!