A quick tidbit.
I’ve gotten a paper proposal accepted for the Midwest Conference on Asian Affairs in early October, in Columbus, OH. I’m excited about this conference in particular because of its focus on media and communication throughout history, and thinking hard about how we approach our various fields through this lens (or vice versa).
My own topic is something I will elaborate on later, but for now, let me tell you it’s about the impossibility of separating physicality from social network from archive from publication in the context of a certain book in the late 1800s. To be less vague, I’m going to talk about how one man’s “rediscovery” (via many allusions by a fiction author he liked) of Ihara Saikaku (then mostly forgotten, now Mr. Edo-Period Canonical Author) in the 1880s. Those who got excited about reading Saikaku talk quite a bit about buying, handling, and borrowing/lending old copies of Saikaku’s work, and in their anthology that they published, they go so far as to credit each work with whose archive/collection it came from. The sense of physical ownership – and being able to touch the thing itself – is overwhelming compared to everything else I’ve looked at from this period. It’s fascinating and exciting and I’m looking forward to sharing this finding as well as getting feedback on my methodological approach and conclusions. (Surely weak at best, given that this is news to me and I haven’t had a lot of time to develop my thinking over the past year, buried in a mountain of magazines in the library basement.)
By the way, this probably can’t fit into the paper, but the social ripples of Saikaku popularity vibrate constantly through the Meiji literature and general literary discourse that I read throughout my research. Saikaku love versus hate, going so far as to adopt a pseudonym that translates to “I love Saikaku” while attempting to imitate his style in one’s own writing, republishing his works in random magazines, the changing ideas about whether or not his works qualify as modern works of fiction (小説, now translated as “novel” but then quite contested), and reactions to him – they not only feed into and inform and make clear literary cliques and their interactions, but also literary trends and experimentation in an era where nearly anything goes.
A forgotten author as a window into an historical moment: nothing could make me happier about choosing the path that I have.
… a Holley resident once told a reporter, at A.G. Holley, “the principal thing is to get well and get out of here.” (‘In Florida, a Lifeline to Patients with TB,’ The New York Times, June 12, 2010)
As someone born after the de-institutionalization of all kinds of patients – those suffering from both mental illnesses and what we like to call plain old illnesses – I have never stopped to consider the environment of the sanitarium. Even as someone who studies the 19th and early 20th centuries, where authors whose works I read more often than not succumbed to early death at the hands of diseases we now cure easily, it doesn’t register with me that as recently as fifty years ago, treatment could consist of anything besides a quick hospital visit and then a solitary regimen of medications taken at home, sick days meaning isolation in the private home.
When I think now about the few forms of institutionalized care that I’m familiar with, the association is purely negative: nursing homes and mental hospitals. They’re frightening, alienating environments, signaling to me the helplessness of the patient and the power of authorities over not just their well-being but over their very lives. Even I assume that I would become someone holding onto their “own” house for dear life, even after no longer being able to care for it, rather than go to someplace where I trade independence for life.
Yet reading about one of the last tuberculosis sanitariums in the United States, I was struck by the idea of community, environment, and disease. Community not in the sense of connections to family and neighbors or friends, but connections to caregivers and to a different kind of neighbor – those who share not your locale but your condition. Your way of life as influenced by what makes you suddenly abnormal. The illness.
Continue reading wellness, environment, the body, the mind
I have been selected as a member of the Writing Assistance Team for the journal of Evidence Based Library and Information Practice!
This isn’t a big job, and it’s volunteer: basically, if a non-native English speaker submits a paper that is accepted but needs major revision for natural English, I will communicate/collaborate with the author to work through the rewrite of the unnatural parts. I’ll get recognized by name in the journal for doing this. Of course, few papers that come through will need this, but still – I am excited! This is something I’ve got the skill set for and I am looking forward to using it.
What’s also great about this journal is that it’s open access, something that I’m very committed to – open education, and open access to scholarship. I’m really happy to be contributing to a journal that makes its content available online and uses a Creative Commons license on the articles. Check out their web site for more information.
A paradox? Not quite.
But a few things have inspired me to think about archives lately – use vs. preservation.
The sad fact is, the more you lean toward preservation, the less access you have. Using causes damage, speeds aging.
Preservation puts a barrier between people and materials. Digital preservation doesn’t capture a full physical experience, just as one cannot “print out” a web site without contradicting the very fundamental point of hyperlinking and the technology of the web.
So the more you use your favorite things, the more you destroy them.
Continue reading a horrible coincidence