Archives

For Christmas, I received a book about bookmarks. It was written by owners of a used bookstore, and it told the stories of the things they found within the pages of the books. The delightful book weaves a narrative that is beautiful for someone who almost always prefers buying used books rather than new. I suppose I’ve always been intrigued by archives, though I have not necessarily considered them to be archives until this class.

I love history because of the opportunity for stories that it represents. So I found Dr. Gaillet’s statements connecting stories and archival research encouraging. For example, statements such as “I believe storytelling—with a purpose, based on painstaking research, tied to a particular cultural moment, making clear the teller’s prejudices—is the real task of the historian, regardless of the negative connotations often associated in academia with storytelling” (36). I suddenly want to change my entire project to something archival. But that might also be entirely naïve of me. I understand that all research, in a way, tells a story.

My biggest question after reading these introductions is what are the limits? For Rhetoric and Composition in particular, can anything count as an archive? Does it have to be analyzed particularly for its rhetorical value or compositional structure? Can’t that broad definition of “rhetorical value” extend to nearly anything?

The idea that the internet is an archive is terrifying and wonderful. With the popularity of Timehop and Facebook Memories, I think people are more interested than ever in their personal archives. But unlike the family photo album that is pulled out only on holidays, these memories can be instantly accessed and shared. The quote, “ultimately, archives shape identity” in the conclusion of Dr. Gaillet’s article (Per)Forming Archival Research Methodologies demonstrates the importance of this well (54).

The serendipity aspect presented in these chapters gave me hope for all research. I love the idea of being open to questions that might surprise you. That is both stressful, since I’m a person who loves to live by a plan, but also a bit freeing. It makes the asking of questions and the search for answers rather like a great game. I think of those “choose your own adventure” stories where there are multiple endings for the same beginning. It is helpful to know here at the beginning phases of research that the answers might not be at all what I’m expecting, and I might find something totally different.

The archival preservation principles in Morris and Rose’s discussion on “Invisible Hands” made me suddenly aware of every paper clip I ever use. I would have not thought about the rusting of paper clips and metal staples, but that makes perfect sense. I mentioned this to some friends as I was reading it. One friend replied, “that’s the goal right there—to one day be so ‘famous’ that people would prioritize removing the staples I once used to hold papers together.” That might be my motivation for the week.

The cost of digitizing collections shocked me. Why is it so expensive to scan a paper or slide? And the alternative, “leave these items behind where they might ‘disappear from the collective cultural memory, potentially leaving our historical fabric riddled with holes’” (Ramsey, 84) is terribly scary. I agree that there is a certain feeling that is lost when viewing a piece of history online. I’d seen pictures of George Washington on many textbook covers growing up, but actually standing in front of an original portrait in the Smithsonian and seeing his belongings gave me a much better sense that he was real. I realize this isn’t the same thing as viewing an archive online, but I think the personal element is important. That said, the accessibility of the Internet is a huge benefit as well.

This all makes me think of an extremely random question. Are text messages considered archives? I think of all the historic letters that are such valuable archives. Unlike letters, text messages disappear from the phone when a certain number has been sent. Is there a way to resurrect temporarily deleted texts? I’m thinking for some reason of the letters between Einstein and Freud. If Einstein and Freud would have texted each other, would we still be able to see their correspondence all these years later? What about the undiscovered Einsteins and Freuds of today—what if they talk to each other? This is probably outside of the realm of composition, but these chapters made me wonder.

Personality in the Archives (Discussion of Part III)

Neal Lerner, quoting Connors, says, “‘[The] archive is where storage meets dreams, and the result is history.’ Whose dreams, of course, Connors does not specify, but the multitude of dreamers when it comes to writing center and composition history create rich possibilities and need to be accounted for in archival studies.” (200)

Unsurprisingly, this chapter on the personal roles at work in the researcher and the subjects being researched was incredibly fascinating to me. I also think that this question of the social context of the researcher has implications for all types of research. There is a reason someone selects a topic to study, and that inevitably effects even the most biased of questions by simply prompting the asking of the questions. Instead of seeing this as something to fear, I like the idea of carefully celebrating the way that this history is created. While it is crucial to not manipulate the sources and research to fit personal motives, it also seems so important to acknowledge the filters which enable us to care to look at all.

Liz Rohan also discusses this concept. As the researcher reads so much about a particular figure, especially when they have already passed away, emotional connections can form. These connections can lead to greater discovery and a more intense desire to continue the valuable research. Understanding the tendencies and negative and positive side effects of emotion’s role is important to archival research.

#Writingandresearch #archives