Levels of good.

Well, it's been nearly a week since my last post so I thought I ought to catch up with the blog.

Got the introduction finished early this week, and I'm meeting Supervisor tomorrow (yes, Saturday - I'd like to say it's because we're dedicated people, and in some ways I suppose it is, but really it's a convenience as Supervisor now teaches elsewhere and we try to have a meeting whenever we're relatively near each other). After such a lot of time and effort, the 5000 words it turned out to be didn't seem like very much. As a friend said though, it's quality, not quantity that counts. Still, when you're so close to something that has taken so long to write, it is very difficult to test the 'quality'. I know when things are bad. I try not to write bad pieces of work. But the level of good, well, that's a mystery.

Supervisor assesses by levels of good. I wonder what I'll hear tomorrow:

1. Excellent (high praise not given out lightly or often)
2. Very good
3. Very good (you know there's a difference between 2 and 3!)
4. Good
5. Good, but...

In fact, the 'but' can go with any of 2-4, and usually does. Often this is disappointing to me. I think, occasionally, I'd like to hear an excellent and leave it at that. But it's a good thing really. Supervisor believes I can do better and pushes me to do it. Whatever I hand in as the final version will be as good as I can make it.

'But' is important. I shouldn't complain.

As long as it isn't a level of bad, I won't be too disappointed.

Quote for today

Not much time today - I'm still working on the introduction which has, since the last post, progressed a little but is now way behind schedule. Supervisor, whose whip-cracking is a constant background noise to me, will not be pleased.

While researching one of my other chapters I came across a description in Conrad Russell's book, Parliaments and English Politics 1621-1629, of the reaction in Parliament when the King did not respond to a parliamentary petition as they had expected that I thought I'd share with you:

"Digges proposed to sit in silence, since they were so miserable they did not know what to do, and Seymour, seconding him, suggested that the silence should be confirmed by order" (1979, p.378).

I like the way it's written - it almost reads like a novel, doesn't it? It made such an impression on me in the writing style and the description of the Members of Parliament that I've stuck it to the wall over my desk. Perhaps it's because it conveys the mood of the moment so well. Perhaps it's because I see some profound advice here somewhere...

Beginnings

I’m trying, at the moment, to write the introduction to my thesis. As is my usual practice with introductions, I’ve left it to the end, so I know what follows it. So, I’m not struggling to say what I plan to do, but I am struggling with the beginning though: how to start; where to start. I don’t want to start with what someone else says around my topic, in case it makes my work look derivative. When I’m reading novels, which I sadly don’t have much time for at the moment (I long for the day after thesis submission day when I can read a novel for fun and without guilt – oh, and re. my last post, I was speaking to a fully fledged academic this weekend, and he assures me this guilt will never go away if I enter academia), I always prefer the ones that start in medias res. I like to be thrown in to an apparently existing story and find out what’s going on. I’ve tried starting with a primary text but my work is historically contextual, and I’m afraid that’s too much in medias res for my introduction – I find myself tied up, unable to move for things which have yet to be said. So, where to start? How to begin with something which has already been said without stealing my own thunder or assuming something yet to be said that I have already written?

I had hoped that having all that follows it worked out would make the beginning easier. Surely it must, somehow, in some way. At least I know where I’m going.

Indulgences

Indulgences. Interesting things. It's fascinating what different people count as an indulgence. To some it's a bottle of wine or a slice of chocolate cake; to others it's curling up on the sofa to watch a favourite film or read a new, or indeed an old, book. When you're a PhD student (and, I suspect, a fully fledged academic) it's doing anything that isn't research or teaching related. At the beginning of this month I allowed my self the ultimate indulgence for a PhD student in the writing up period: I went on holiday.

I took the holiday I always take at this time of year to indulge what someone in my academic field once described as my 'errant interest in the Brontes'. I went to Haworth for the Bronte Society AGM events. Now, I've been going to these since I was 15, and I always go alone. But I'm never alone for long. The Bronte Society has given me friends - good friends - all over the world, and every year brings new people from new places, all walks of life, and new friendships. We aren't all academics; this year I met a dancer/choreographer and a writer from the States, and old friends include a nurse, an academic, a musician and a joiner. And it's easy to make friends; you see, we always have something to talk about (this year conversation ranged from Bronte biography, through modern poetry, to our favourite TV shows / actors, to Internet dating) - we have a common interest to start things off. You don't have to know all there is to know about the Bronte family and their literature; you don't have to be an academic or an expert. All you need is to be interested and the Society offers you the opportunity to go to Bronte or other literature related places (not just day excursions, but holidays to Ireland, or Brussels, for example), talk about Bronte books / lives, or just plain meet people and chat. Yes, there are academics. Yes, the Society holds academic conferences. But those aren't the most important things; it's not primarily about that.

This is why it saddens me that, after my 13years of AGM events, I am still one of the youngest people there. It didn't surprise me when I was 15, 18, or even 20. But in my late 20s, it worries me. It doesn't matter, to an extent. I don't primarily notice the age of my friends there. But if new, younger members don't join, the Society will eventually be in trouble. And this is more serious than it may sound: The Bronte Society owns the Bronte Parsonage Museum, and if membership shrinks too drastically, we will have to pass it on to a different organisation, and I don't know about you, but I think that would be very sad indeed.

To the left, you'll see a link to the Bronte Parsonage Blog. It has some posts from a variety of members about the recent AGM events. It even has some photographs. If it looks like something you'd enjoy, the Bronte Parsonage Museum website has information on what we do and how to join. Check it out! Indulge your interest...

Falling Leaves

Welcome to Falling Leaves.

I'm new to blogging, although several of my friends have well-established, poetic and extemely interesting blogs. I hope mine lives up to their standard!