ha I just had a manuscript desk-rejected by a journal with the comment "which historiography/ies are you seeking to transform?"
And as it happens I was not trying to transform any historiographies! I just found some interesting things no one had paid much attention to before, and I thought I came up with some clever ideas about them
Well! In the France of Louis XIV there were three main ways that current or recent events (battles, sieges, weddings, festivals, diplomatic receptions, etc.) could be portrayed in art:
1. prints, paintings or tapestries made by artists working for the state
2. news prints, made to sell to the public right after the event
3. almanac prints, which were big prints with calendars, designed so that people would post them on their walls throughout the year and then get a new one the next year, these went on sale every December (here's an example: https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b69454991.item)
Type 1 was official propaganda, and types 2 and 3 were made by private firms (though subject to censorship, for example they never portrayed a battle France didn't win).
If you compare the three categories it turns out that type 3 is by far the dominant one (in contrast to neighboring Holland where type 2 was dominant). So my paper demonstrates that this was the case, that almanacs were the main format, and then gives my theory of why.
The manuscript is now off to another journal that's less focused being the center of the conversation in the field, fingers crossed...
Yeah, I agree that this is the heart of the problem. And I also love scholarship from that era. (I think about 1910-1940 was the high point.) Unfortunately I don't think that it's possible for everyone to just agree to write as if we're in a world that still places intense value on these works when we're so obviously not. I mean we can do better than we've done, without question! But the thing is, detailed, empirical research, no matter how minute, is never just antiquarianism if it's part of a bigger cultural narrative or set of values; it becomes antiquarianism when those collapse.
For earlier periods here's also the problem that this kind of research really has been done. Not everything, but the stuff that's likely to really reshape interpretations. There's just not low hanging fruit when it comes to Shakespeare. Figuring out how to write original scholarship while navigating literally millions of pages of preexisting work is no joke, and I'm not sure anyone has a great solution to that problem.
Great, great point about the bigger cultural narrative; this is why minute examinations of, say, Melville can get published, whereas minute examinations of, like, Sutton Griggs might not. I will say that lots of historicist scholars in my field have begun to focus more intensely on non-canonical texts, precisely because they offer something new to comment on, a new archive to plumb, etc. The problem is that if nobody has read an obscure author, a long commentary on that author is, in fact, antiquarian, even if done admirably and written lucidly! At the same time, we can also cultivate and expand countercultures in which literary works and knowledge about them are valued, even if the wider culture doesn't do the same thing. Hard work, but I'm inspired by a lot of what I read on here.
Your point about Shakespeare is well taken, too. This is why I have never written scholarship on Emily Dickinson--there's just too much pre-existing work, and I don't have ten years to get acquainted with the conversation! But, if anyone has a great answer to that problem, it isn't me!
That question "who cares?" – I imagine some old-fashioned philistine barking it at his bookish son while he counts the earnings from his sawdust factory or something. But it's coming from the academics themselves!
I had always thought the question was: “why should anyone care about what you have written?” (emphasis on why not who). It’s about the unique perspective of your writing since anyone can merely gather factoids. No two people see the world exactly the same and therein lies anyone’s contribution to anything. The question “who cares” places the focus on writing what you think someone or some audience wants to read rather than writing from your unique perspective. As an academic (or any writer really), the “who cares” is already known — it’s you.
Substantively, you're right--the question is "why should anyone care" or, more succinctly, "why does this matter?" I used "Who Cares?" because I've seen it used time and time again in academic writing guides or manuals and have heard the question formulated in that way by writing coaches and the like. With that said, though, I do think that most academic writing is done with an audience in mind, be that an audience of specialists or a broader public, and the question of mattering is of course tied up in questions of who is reading.
As to the question of whether a unique, individual perspective is valued in academic writing: I mean, maybe? There certainly was a pseudo-autobiographical strain in some humanities/social science academic writing a few years ago, but the sense that I got was that the autobiographical strain was being justified in one of two ways--first, as a methodological innovation revealing supra-rational information, and second, because the author's individual experience was more broadly representative, e.g. claims that "lived experience" were uniquely descriptive of the collective experience of certain groups in ways that couldn't be gleaned from statistics. But I feel like if I submitted a journal article, most readers would not consider it worth reading because it came from my perspective.
All very good points. I agree with the points you make in this piece. What I mean by individual perspective is what you focus on in a myriad of details, and then how you put those details together. Much in the way of John Berger's ways of seeing. In that respect, every scholar has their own voice within their specialties.
If you haven't already read the essay below, I think you will enjoy this one. David Simpson referred to the problem you describe as "presentist affirmation."
Is Literary History the History of Everything? The Case for "Antiquarian" History
Author(s): David Simpson
Source: SubStance, Vol. 28, No. 1, Issue 88: Special Issue: Literary History (1999), pp. 5-16
This dissertation sounds like the kind of research that's _most_ necessary! If you care about Balzac, then you want to know these things. Personally I am highly fascinated to know that Balzac wasn't always held in high regard in America!
Yes, I think one of the most interesting things about studying literary history is observing how plastic and mutable standards of taste have been. It is interesting to watch canons of taste emerging as part of an argument--for example, Tolstoy was not immediately greeted as a universally loved writer, and if not for the efforts of critics like W.D. Howells (who was slightly obsessed with Tolstoy), maybe we wouldn't be hosting War and Peace slow-reads on Substack today! It really makes you realize how contingent some literary reputations are.
ha I just had a manuscript desk-rejected by a journal with the comment "which historiography/ies are you seeking to transform?"
And as it happens I was not trying to transform any historiographies! I just found some interesting things no one had paid much attention to before, and I thought I came up with some clever ideas about them
I am curious now about what your article was about and whether I would find it interesting!
Well! In the France of Louis XIV there were three main ways that current or recent events (battles, sieges, weddings, festivals, diplomatic receptions, etc.) could be portrayed in art:
1. prints, paintings or tapestries made by artists working for the state
2. news prints, made to sell to the public right after the event
3. almanac prints, which were big prints with calendars, designed so that people would post them on their walls throughout the year and then get a new one the next year, these went on sale every December (here's an example: https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b69454991.item)
Type 1 was official propaganda, and types 2 and 3 were made by private firms (though subject to censorship, for example they never portrayed a battle France didn't win).
If you compare the three categories it turns out that type 3 is by far the dominant one (in contrast to neighboring Holland where type 2 was dominant). So my paper demonstrates that this was the case, that almanacs were the main format, and then gives my theory of why.
The manuscript is now off to another journal that's less focused being the center of the conversation in the field, fingers crossed...
Yeah, I agree that this is the heart of the problem. And I also love scholarship from that era. (I think about 1910-1940 was the high point.) Unfortunately I don't think that it's possible for everyone to just agree to write as if we're in a world that still places intense value on these works when we're so obviously not. I mean we can do better than we've done, without question! But the thing is, detailed, empirical research, no matter how minute, is never just antiquarianism if it's part of a bigger cultural narrative or set of values; it becomes antiquarianism when those collapse.
For earlier periods here's also the problem that this kind of research really has been done. Not everything, but the stuff that's likely to really reshape interpretations. There's just not low hanging fruit when it comes to Shakespeare. Figuring out how to write original scholarship while navigating literally millions of pages of preexisting work is no joke, and I'm not sure anyone has a great solution to that problem.
Great, great point about the bigger cultural narrative; this is why minute examinations of, say, Melville can get published, whereas minute examinations of, like, Sutton Griggs might not. I will say that lots of historicist scholars in my field have begun to focus more intensely on non-canonical texts, precisely because they offer something new to comment on, a new archive to plumb, etc. The problem is that if nobody has read an obscure author, a long commentary on that author is, in fact, antiquarian, even if done admirably and written lucidly! At the same time, we can also cultivate and expand countercultures in which literary works and knowledge about them are valued, even if the wider culture doesn't do the same thing. Hard work, but I'm inspired by a lot of what I read on here.
Your point about Shakespeare is well taken, too. This is why I have never written scholarship on Emily Dickinson--there's just too much pre-existing work, and I don't have ten years to get acquainted with the conversation! But, if anyone has a great answer to that problem, it isn't me!
That question "who cares?" – I imagine some old-fashioned philistine barking it at his bookish son while he counts the earnings from his sawdust factory or something. But it's coming from the academics themselves!
I had always thought the question was: “why should anyone care about what you have written?” (emphasis on why not who). It’s about the unique perspective of your writing since anyone can merely gather factoids. No two people see the world exactly the same and therein lies anyone’s contribution to anything. The question “who cares” places the focus on writing what you think someone or some audience wants to read rather than writing from your unique perspective. As an academic (or any writer really), the “who cares” is already known — it’s you.
Substantively, you're right--the question is "why should anyone care" or, more succinctly, "why does this matter?" I used "Who Cares?" because I've seen it used time and time again in academic writing guides or manuals and have heard the question formulated in that way by writing coaches and the like. With that said, though, I do think that most academic writing is done with an audience in mind, be that an audience of specialists or a broader public, and the question of mattering is of course tied up in questions of who is reading.
As to the question of whether a unique, individual perspective is valued in academic writing: I mean, maybe? There certainly was a pseudo-autobiographical strain in some humanities/social science academic writing a few years ago, but the sense that I got was that the autobiographical strain was being justified in one of two ways--first, as a methodological innovation revealing supra-rational information, and second, because the author's individual experience was more broadly representative, e.g. claims that "lived experience" were uniquely descriptive of the collective experience of certain groups in ways that couldn't be gleaned from statistics. But I feel like if I submitted a journal article, most readers would not consider it worth reading because it came from my perspective.
All very good points. I agree with the points you make in this piece. What I mean by individual perspective is what you focus on in a myriad of details, and then how you put those details together. Much in the way of John Berger's ways of seeing. In that respect, every scholar has their own voice within their specialties.
If you haven't already read the essay below, I think you will enjoy this one. David Simpson referred to the problem you describe as "presentist affirmation."
Is Literary History the History of Everything? The Case for "Antiquarian" History
Author(s): David Simpson
Source: SubStance, Vol. 28, No. 1, Issue 88: Special Issue: Literary History (1999), pp. 5-16
Published by: University of Wisconsin Press
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable
We are currently, we are told, living through a "vibe shift."
This article is a case study in a previous vibe shift.
It is not only interesting, it is timely.
BTW, the best book on this sort of thing that I have read is The Victorian Frame of Mind, 1830-1870 by Walter E. Houghton (1963)
This dissertation sounds like the kind of research that's _most_ necessary! If you care about Balzac, then you want to know these things. Personally I am highly fascinated to know that Balzac wasn't always held in high regard in America!
Yes, I think one of the most interesting things about studying literary history is observing how plastic and mutable standards of taste have been. It is interesting to watch canons of taste emerging as part of an argument--for example, Tolstoy was not immediately greeted as a universally loved writer, and if not for the efforts of critics like W.D. Howells (who was slightly obsessed with Tolstoy), maybe we wouldn't be hosting War and Peace slow-reads on Substack today! It really makes you realize how contingent some literary reputations are.