Couple things

First, it turns out someone else volunteered to be UT point man on Students for Clark. Still, neither they nor the guy in charge (whom I e-mailed) have responded to my inquiries, which strikes me as a very dumb position for an organization that needs recruits more than anything else. Whatever, I'll still be around when the get around to it.

Second, I realized I've been forgetting to post those one-pager British Studies papers, like anyone cares. I'll throw those up, in case anyone's really bored at work.

Third, I wanted to post this picture, even though I've probably done so before. I came across it again the other day and immediately made it my desktop. In my opinion, this is probably my best picture.



And for the papers. The most recent one:

The Handy Benjamin Franklin (2002)

In 1750 Benjamin Franklin wrote that after his life was over, “I would rather have it said, he lived usefully, than, He died rich.” This devotion to serving others, Edmund Morgan argues, formed the basis of Franklin’s moral code and essentially defined the man’s character. Morgan himself must have imbibed a little of the Franklin morality during his research. For this book attempts nothing new; after 200 hundred years of biographers describing Franklin’s every detail, Morgan attempted to write what would be most useful to the greatest number of people: an introduction. Ultimately, his pedestrian goal accounts for the book’s appeal as well as its flaws.

Morgan writes best when he follows Franklin’s political maneuverings and social charms through Pennsylvania, England, and France during the time that would create and shape America. During this narrative, his writing is clear, direct, and heavily factual, relying on quotations from Franklin’s writings to reveal his legendary persona. But Morgan has the jarring habit of switching to the first person plural whenever he wants to hammer home a point about Franklin (Maybe to make every reader feel welcome?). The book begins in this manner, with Morgan’s scattershot attempts to dispel misconceptions about Franklin, especially regarding his famous lightning experiment. But he does so using phrases like “If we watch Franklin in the fresh air,” or the rather obvious and cliché “In order to know him well, we have to watch what he did—he always said that actions speak louder than words.” This voice interrupts the narrative intermittently, and Morgan even resorts to it in his conclusion. There he tells us for the umpteenth time that we can only know Franklin through his surviving writings, therefore the Franklin “we” know probably differs from the one his personal acquaintances knew. Morgan’s ability to state the obvious and his penchant for repeating himself creep up throughout the text, but when he simply tells Franklin’s story—instead of drawing conclusions about him—Morgan’s prose gathers strength and ultimately succeeds. In the end, he accomplishes what I think he intended: a scholar recreating the life of another scholar, without exposing readers to the tedium of scholarship.

And the one from the week before, written after an all-nighter. I thought it was scattered as shit, but class feedback was positive on the whole. If anyone can make sense of my conclusion, I'd like to know what I meant. I was that tired. But I made it!

The Isles

Even at over 1,000 pages, Norman Davies’ The Isles almost feels slim given what it accomplishes. Davies takes us from caves to kings to colonies while simultaneously promoting his acknowledged agenda: dismantling the last 250 years of British historiography

Davies argues that for centuries English elites have manipulated the history of the British Isles in order to canonize the their belief in English superiority over, well, all other cultures. Davies undermines this assumption in each chapter by following a set formula: (1) use a vignette to establish the global setting of the chapter and how it influenced the isles; (2) deliver the facts of this time period—the kings, the queens, the battles, the religious feuds—with minor editorializing; and (3) show how nobility, academia, etc. distorted these facts through the years and their motivations for doing so.

Davies gets particularly riled up at the assumption, propagated by the above elites, that “British” culture has always existed in one form or another on the isles. He goes to great lengths to show that what constitutes the popular conception of British culture, that is, Anglo-Saxon genealogy, a liberal political system, the Anglican church, and gentility exemplified by the sophistication of the English language, never existed in cohesive form until the writers of history thought to retrofit them into a tradition that supposedly stretched back millennia. Davies points out that British culture—and this differs from Welsh, Irish, or Scottish cultures—arose from eons of chaotic invasion, abandonment, and intermarriage of a great number of ethnicities and religions. Yet, to those in power, the myth of Britain immemorial justifies Her dominance over the entirety of the isles, not to mention at points large chunks of the “uncivilized” globe.

While modern American readers may miss out on the significance of many minor events in Davies’ detailed history, and while Davies obviously plays favorites with the non-English historical figures, the book still provides a worthwhile (and excellently written) look into the rise and fall of an empire. Given the United States current penchant for imperialism, Davies’ book can perhaps clue us in to future pitfalls, even though history usually repeats itself in ways we never expect.

To anyone who made it this far, many thanks.