It's been a while
Ok, so we're back two weeks after the last post.
I simply don't have the energy to explain what I've been up to, so I'll add what's been occupying most of my time for the last week for you all to see. Enjoy.
“History is never for itself; it is always for someone.” (Keith Jenkins) Discuss Jenkins’ comment as well as his general perspective on history in relation to a range of work covered during the module, with special reference to Brian Friel’s play Making History.
In order to discuss the above quote and indeed his general view on the subject, it is first necessary to determine what Jenkins implies with his use of the word ‘history’. Before his book Re-Thinking History was published in 1991, it was uncommon for the historian to make the distinction between ‘the past’ and ‘history’[1], but it is this distinction that defines the viewpoint that is reflected in the quote and his further writings. To exemplify, Jenkins (2006:7) states
as English-speakers we tend to lose sight of the fact that there is actually this distinction between history – as that which has been written/recorded about the past – and the past itself, because the word history covers both things… register this difference by using the term ‘the past’ for all that has gone on before everywhere, whilst using the word ‘historiography’ for history, historiography referring to the writings of historians
thus demonstrating that history and the past are “not stitched together” (ibid.) but are separate entities to be considered independently of each other. The notion that historiography is not necessarily a true or complete reflection of the past (an issue to be investigated later) is explored within Friel’s text. The character Archbishop Lombard makes several references to the nature of history throughout the play, explaining “I’ll just try to tell the story of what I saw and took part in as accurately as I can” (Friel, 1989:8) but notably says when questioned about the truthfulness of his account of O’Neill’s history, “my responsibility will be to tell the best possible narrative…I’m not sure the ‘truth’ is the primary ingredient” (ibid.). Here he is clearly making the division between ‘what he saw’, the past, and ‘what he tells’, history. He is presenting history as a subjective piece of “story-telling” (ibid.).
Conversely, a more traditional and positivist view of history is displayed as a contrast to Lombard’s attitude in the form of Hugh O’Neill’s character. Freedman (2000:594) defines this traditional view as “emphasis[ing] the critical and scientific description and evaluation of past events (in the words of the 19th century German historian Leopold von Ranke, “to tell it as it actually happened”)”. This view therefore acknowledges the past and history to be one and the same, focusing on the necessity of complete accuracy and truth. This is a belief that O’Neill conveys to the audience repeatedly whenever the subject of his history arises, specifically stating, “I need the truth Peter… The schemer, the leader, the liar, the statesman, the lecher, the patriot, the drunk, the soured, bitter émigré – put it all in, Peter. Record the whole life” (Friel, 1989:63). O’Neill is emphasising his wish that his past should be recorded in its’ entirety as his history, reflecting his view that this is what constitutes history: objectivity.
Through the two characters discussed, we are presented with vehicles to present and discuss history as either subjective or objective. A question that arises from looking at history in this manner is this: can history ever be truly objective? In order for a historical account to avoid subjectivity, it must be purely factual and therefore without the affects of a historian’s interpretation. Jenkins implies in his writing that this is not possible, stating, “history remains inevitably a personal construct, a manifestation of the historian’s perspective as ‘narrator’” (Jenkins, 2006:14). Vansina (1980) furthers this by stating, “all historical sources are suffused by subjectivity right from the start”, implying that even if a historian could approach evidence from the past in an objective manner, the factual element of the very material is questionable as human memory is subjective[2]. Even artefacts can become subjective, argues Shanks who states, “only humans talk, and when artefacts are said to speak it is through a human intermediary” (Pearson and Shanks, 2001:97), indicating that to understand relics of the past we require a human to interpret them, which therefore, as human thought is subjective, makes an objective understanding of it impossible. Does this therefore render O’Neill’s demands of Lombard’s history futile? Many historians do still attempt to create objective accounts of the past, Arthur Marwick being a clear example, whose position is, “that while historians are certainly fallible… history …is an ‘objective’ discipline” (Marwick, 2001:38) but even he states, “history is reasonably objective, and certainly is not entirely subjective” (2001:45). It would seem that while it is highly likely one could create an entirely subjective historiography, the same cannot be said for an entirely objective historiography.
With an understanding of the subjective nature of history established, Jenkins furthers his explanation of his definition of history by discussing the way in which the past can be read in a multitude of ways. He states, “bear in mind that ‘history’ is really ‘histories’… we ought to… recognise that there is a multiplicity of types of history whose only common feature is that their ostensible object of enquiry is the past” (Jenkins, 2006:4). The fact that past events can be interpreted in this manner consequently means that we should expect there to be several ways of recording the past, as “the same object of enquiry is capable of being read differently by different discourses” (ibid.), thus producing several versions of the same ‘history’. In Friel’s play, Lombard supports Jenkins’ view, stating “I don’t believe that a period of history – a given space of time – my life – your life – that it contains within it one ‘true’ interpretation just waiting to be mined” (Friel, 1989:15). A real-life example of this is the work of David Irving, a historian who sought to rewrite the history of the Holocaust from the way it is depicted by many other historians[3] by interpreting the evidence available to support his beliefs.
The actions of Irving tally with Jenkins views of the nature of historiography, which he describes as “a contested discourse, an embattled terrain wherein people(s), classes and groups autobiographically construct interpretations of the past literally to please themselves” (Jenkins, 2006:23). As there are so many ways possible to interpret the same past events, the way a historian chooses their take on these events is often determined by their target audience, and in Irving’s case, this was for himself and the Neo-Nazi movement. It is this choice of audience and subsequent interpretation that Jenkins (2006:21) is referring to when he states, “history is never for itself; it’s always for someone”.
The motivation behind the way in which historians use the past to write their histories for others can differ greatly. Plumb (2004:11) states,
man, from the earliest days of recorded time, has used the past in a variety of ways: to explain the origins and purpose of human life, to sanctify institutions of government, to give validity to class structure, to provide moral example, to vivify his cultural and educational processes, to interpret the future, to invest both the individual human life or a nation’s with a sense of destiny
demonstrating several ways in which he believes the past has been used to write a history relevant and necessary for others. Phelan describes the way in which the history of the Rose Theatre was altered in an attempt to preserve the site upon its’ discovery in her book Mourning Sex: Performing Public Memories. She explains, “the Shakespeare connection was heightened and the Marlowe connection was played down, in part because Shakespeare has a cultural capital that Marlowe lacks” (Phelan, 1997:74). In this instance, the past was interpreted for the developers of the site and the British public, for whom Shakespeare is a key cultural symbol. This supports Jenkins’ (2006:27) view that “who the historian sees as his/her market will influence what is said”. Shakespeare’s importance in our society (the market) determined that, in order to preserve the site, his limited connection to the theatre needed to be exaggerated.
In Friel’s text, Lombard is writing O’Neill’s history with the Irish people in mind, which requires him to focus on the heroic and Catholic things he did for Ireland, and not actions that were contradictory to these. He states, “I’m offering Gaelic Ireland two things. I’m offering them this narrative that has elements of myth. And I’m offering them Hugh O’Neill as a hero” (Friel, 1989:67). By writing in this manner, he is selecting the material that is relevant for the interpretation required by his target audience, so although he may not be telling the whole truth of O’Neill’s life, his history could not be deemed entirely untruthful either. This choosing only certain parts of the past to document presents later generations with a problem. People reading this history years later after all those who knew the ‘real truth’ had died would never be able to distinguish between the partially censored account (to present O’Neill solely as a Gaelic hero) and the completely accurate one. Lowenthal (1996:187) states, “the past is gone; its parity with things now seen, recalled or read about can never be proved”. Jenkins (2006:14) also suggests that we can never really judge whether anything written is accurate, stating
we judge the ‘accuracy’ of historians’ accounts vis-à-vis other historians’ interpretations and there is no real account, no proper history that, deep down, allows us to check all other accounts against it: there is no fundamentally ‘correct’ text of which other interpretations are variations; variations are all they are
which in turn implies that accuracy is never a definite element of a historiography. Whilst this is an issue that would clearly concern O’Neill’s character personally, (he who almost obsessively tries to ensure Lombard’s history of his life is without comment, without interpretation and altogether completely true-to-life[4]) as long as a person studying a history understands and accepts that “history is what historians make”, that they “make it on slender evidence” and that it is “inescapably interpretive” (Jenkins, 2006:30), the quest for ‘real truth’ becomes pointless and unnecessary, and it is building your own interpretation and ideas about the past that become key. Demonstrating this, Shanks states accuracy “is not an intrinsic property or essential quality” (Pearson and Shanks, 2001:114). An example of this in modern society is the Shakespeare debate, featured frequently in the early seminars of this module. Various people have written books[5] disproving Shakespeare as the author of his works, but ultimately this does not detract from the fact that the literary works would be important (in the Elizabethan era and our own) even if they had been written by a man of another name (many authors have written under pseudonyms before and this has not rendered their work invalid!). Therefore, one could conclude that the accuracy surrounding who the ‘the real Shakespeare’ was is not that important overall.
If we accept that factors such as accuracy, subjectivity and bias are not important in historiography, where does this leave the importance of such uncertain histories? Jenkins argues that it is the meaning we derive from the past that has true importance to historians. He states, “historians are not too concerned about discrete facts… historians have ambitions, wishing to discover not only what happened but how and why and what these things meant and mean” (Jenkins, 2006:40). Plumb (2004:12) also supports this view, stating, “the majority of men and historians for most of recorded time were concerned with far more than what merely happened”. This meaning they generate is, of course, particular to the historian, as each interpretation will be unique to the writer, but it can also have great importance, as history is often used by or affects our society. For example, Plumb suggests that it can be used to “give validity to the class structure” or to “sanctify institutions of government” (Plumb, 2004:11), demonstrating how we often draw on what has gone before to validate our actions in the present. Jenkins (2006:22) states, “people(s) literally feel the need to root themselves today and tomorrow in their yesterdays… people(s) in the present need antecedents to… legitimate their ongoing and future ways of living”. With histories being written to help provide the relevant antecedents, we can further clarify what Jenkins means by history being “for someone”.
Particular antecedents can also used by directors or writers in theatre. As a theatrical setting allows for uncertainty and questioning of beliefs and truths, having access to several ‘histories’ can be an advantage, as they can either provide them with several points of view, allowing for a piece that maybe considers some or all of these possibilities, or a particular interpretation that supports and therefore justifies their version depicted or used in their production. Looking at history can also help us to develop and improve on what has gone before. By looking at historians’ interpretations of mistakes made in the past, bearing these in mind we can work towards new solutions, avoiding or solving previous problems. This process of working towards a solution through trial and error can be particularly applied to the theatrical devising process. By looking at past practitioners’ or simply the company’s problems, it is possible to draw new conclusions about how the process can be tackled[6] which can help to shape a new approach. By being aware of theatrical history, it is also possible for older techniques to be examined, reused, revisited or modified to create a new shape for contemporary theatre technique. It can therefore be argued that these uncertain histories still hold some importance for theatre practitioners, writers and anyone working in the theatrical industry.
To summarise, Jenkins believes that historians write ‘histories’, personal interpretations of the past that always have an element of subjectivity and inaccuracy due to the personal nature of interpretation and the fallibility of human memory. His comment, “history is never for itself; it is always for someone” implies that these interpretations are written with specific audiences or purposes in mind. Whilst this perspective could impact greatly on the practice of history, with history playing a key role in theatre, how does Jenkins’ take on the topic affect the theatrical practitioner? As the importance of historical accuracy is removed (as this is considered to be no certain thing), it could be suggested that we should accept revisits to older texts as interpretations, understanding that this has no impact on their validity as no “true” version exists. As an accurate and objective documentation of a performance is not possible, this really emphasises the importance of the live performance, and diminishes the value of any attempt to document or recreate it without interpretation. However, with an emphasis on the importance of the interpretation of what has gone before, the way people come to understand a performance personally also becomes highly significant. It would therefore be beneficial to the practitioner to consider the ways in which they can exploit the audience’s perception of the piece. He may want to ensure that they understand one message or idea within the work and would need to consider specific semiotics and text in order to ensure that this is conveyed correctly. Alternatively, he may want the audience to draw their own conclusions and personal interpretations from the performance and may therefore want to be less specific with what is shown. A performance may also be tailored for a target audience. I would therefore argue that theatre can always be made for someone in the same way that this is possible for history.
[1] This is explained in Arthur Munslow’s introduction to Rethinking History (see bibliography), and is a claim substantiated within the works of historians writing pre-1990, discussed throughout Jenkins’ book.
[2] This is explained in greater detail in David Lowenthal’s book, The Past is a Foreign Country.
[3] Drawn from the television programme entitled “The Holocaust on Trial”, material referenced during the module.
[4] See page 8 of Friel’s Making History to read the discussion that takes place demonstrating these thoughts.
[5] For example, The Truth Will Out: Unmasking the Real Shakespeare by James and Rubinstein.
[6] For example, see Alison Oddeys’ Devising Theatre.
I love how this thing has added endnotes instead of my footnotes :D
And, just a quick woop- I'll be in Norwich from tomorrow until Sunday! Yays!!
I simply don't have the energy to explain what I've been up to, so I'll add what's been occupying most of my time for the last week for you all to see. Enjoy.
“History is never for itself; it is always for someone.” (Keith Jenkins) Discuss Jenkins’ comment as well as his general perspective on history in relation to a range of work covered during the module, with special reference to Brian Friel’s play Making History.
In order to discuss the above quote and indeed his general view on the subject, it is first necessary to determine what Jenkins implies with his use of the word ‘history’. Before his book Re-Thinking History was published in 1991, it was uncommon for the historian to make the distinction between ‘the past’ and ‘history’[1], but it is this distinction that defines the viewpoint that is reflected in the quote and his further writings. To exemplify, Jenkins (2006:7) states
as English-speakers we tend to lose sight of the fact that there is actually this distinction between history – as that which has been written/recorded about the past – and the past itself, because the word history covers both things… register this difference by using the term ‘the past’ for all that has gone on before everywhere, whilst using the word ‘historiography’ for history, historiography referring to the writings of historians
thus demonstrating that history and the past are “not stitched together” (ibid.) but are separate entities to be considered independently of each other. The notion that historiography is not necessarily a true or complete reflection of the past (an issue to be investigated later) is explored within Friel’s text. The character Archbishop Lombard makes several references to the nature of history throughout the play, explaining “I’ll just try to tell the story of what I saw and took part in as accurately as I can” (Friel, 1989:8) but notably says when questioned about the truthfulness of his account of O’Neill’s history, “my responsibility will be to tell the best possible narrative…I’m not sure the ‘truth’ is the primary ingredient” (ibid.). Here he is clearly making the division between ‘what he saw’, the past, and ‘what he tells’, history. He is presenting history as a subjective piece of “story-telling” (ibid.).
Conversely, a more traditional and positivist view of history is displayed as a contrast to Lombard’s attitude in the form of Hugh O’Neill’s character. Freedman (2000:594) defines this traditional view as “emphasis[ing] the critical and scientific description and evaluation of past events (in the words of the 19th century German historian Leopold von Ranke, “to tell it as it actually happened”)”. This view therefore acknowledges the past and history to be one and the same, focusing on the necessity of complete accuracy and truth. This is a belief that O’Neill conveys to the audience repeatedly whenever the subject of his history arises, specifically stating, “I need the truth Peter… The schemer, the leader, the liar, the statesman, the lecher, the patriot, the drunk, the soured, bitter émigré – put it all in, Peter. Record the whole life” (Friel, 1989:63). O’Neill is emphasising his wish that his past should be recorded in its’ entirety as his history, reflecting his view that this is what constitutes history: objectivity.
Through the two characters discussed, we are presented with vehicles to present and discuss history as either subjective or objective. A question that arises from looking at history in this manner is this: can history ever be truly objective? In order for a historical account to avoid subjectivity, it must be purely factual and therefore without the affects of a historian’s interpretation. Jenkins implies in his writing that this is not possible, stating, “history remains inevitably a personal construct, a manifestation of the historian’s perspective as ‘narrator’” (Jenkins, 2006:14). Vansina (1980) furthers this by stating, “all historical sources are suffused by subjectivity right from the start”, implying that even if a historian could approach evidence from the past in an objective manner, the factual element of the very material is questionable as human memory is subjective[2]. Even artefacts can become subjective, argues Shanks who states, “only humans talk, and when artefacts are said to speak it is through a human intermediary” (Pearson and Shanks, 2001:97), indicating that to understand relics of the past we require a human to interpret them, which therefore, as human thought is subjective, makes an objective understanding of it impossible. Does this therefore render O’Neill’s demands of Lombard’s history futile? Many historians do still attempt to create objective accounts of the past, Arthur Marwick being a clear example, whose position is, “that while historians are certainly fallible… history …is an ‘objective’ discipline” (Marwick, 2001:38) but even he states, “history is reasonably objective, and certainly is not entirely subjective” (2001:45). It would seem that while it is highly likely one could create an entirely subjective historiography, the same cannot be said for an entirely objective historiography.
With an understanding of the subjective nature of history established, Jenkins furthers his explanation of his definition of history by discussing the way in which the past can be read in a multitude of ways. He states, “bear in mind that ‘history’ is really ‘histories’… we ought to… recognise that there is a multiplicity of types of history whose only common feature is that their ostensible object of enquiry is the past” (Jenkins, 2006:4). The fact that past events can be interpreted in this manner consequently means that we should expect there to be several ways of recording the past, as “the same object of enquiry is capable of being read differently by different discourses” (ibid.), thus producing several versions of the same ‘history’. In Friel’s play, Lombard supports Jenkins’ view, stating “I don’t believe that a period of history – a given space of time – my life – your life – that it contains within it one ‘true’ interpretation just waiting to be mined” (Friel, 1989:15). A real-life example of this is the work of David Irving, a historian who sought to rewrite the history of the Holocaust from the way it is depicted by many other historians[3] by interpreting the evidence available to support his beliefs.
The actions of Irving tally with Jenkins views of the nature of historiography, which he describes as “a contested discourse, an embattled terrain wherein people(s), classes and groups autobiographically construct interpretations of the past literally to please themselves” (Jenkins, 2006:23). As there are so many ways possible to interpret the same past events, the way a historian chooses their take on these events is often determined by their target audience, and in Irving’s case, this was for himself and the Neo-Nazi movement. It is this choice of audience and subsequent interpretation that Jenkins (2006:21) is referring to when he states, “history is never for itself; it’s always for someone”.
The motivation behind the way in which historians use the past to write their histories for others can differ greatly. Plumb (2004:11) states,
man, from the earliest days of recorded time, has used the past in a variety of ways: to explain the origins and purpose of human life, to sanctify institutions of government, to give validity to class structure, to provide moral example, to vivify his cultural and educational processes, to interpret the future, to invest both the individual human life or a nation’s with a sense of destiny
demonstrating several ways in which he believes the past has been used to write a history relevant and necessary for others. Phelan describes the way in which the history of the Rose Theatre was altered in an attempt to preserve the site upon its’ discovery in her book Mourning Sex: Performing Public Memories. She explains, “the Shakespeare connection was heightened and the Marlowe connection was played down, in part because Shakespeare has a cultural capital that Marlowe lacks” (Phelan, 1997:74). In this instance, the past was interpreted for the developers of the site and the British public, for whom Shakespeare is a key cultural symbol. This supports Jenkins’ (2006:27) view that “who the historian sees as his/her market will influence what is said”. Shakespeare’s importance in our society (the market) determined that, in order to preserve the site, his limited connection to the theatre needed to be exaggerated.
In Friel’s text, Lombard is writing O’Neill’s history with the Irish people in mind, which requires him to focus on the heroic and Catholic things he did for Ireland, and not actions that were contradictory to these. He states, “I’m offering Gaelic Ireland two things. I’m offering them this narrative that has elements of myth. And I’m offering them Hugh O’Neill as a hero” (Friel, 1989:67). By writing in this manner, he is selecting the material that is relevant for the interpretation required by his target audience, so although he may not be telling the whole truth of O’Neill’s life, his history could not be deemed entirely untruthful either. This choosing only certain parts of the past to document presents later generations with a problem. People reading this history years later after all those who knew the ‘real truth’ had died would never be able to distinguish between the partially censored account (to present O’Neill solely as a Gaelic hero) and the completely accurate one. Lowenthal (1996:187) states, “the past is gone; its parity with things now seen, recalled or read about can never be proved”. Jenkins (2006:14) also suggests that we can never really judge whether anything written is accurate, stating
we judge the ‘accuracy’ of historians’ accounts vis-à-vis other historians’ interpretations and there is no real account, no proper history that, deep down, allows us to check all other accounts against it: there is no fundamentally ‘correct’ text of which other interpretations are variations; variations are all they are
which in turn implies that accuracy is never a definite element of a historiography. Whilst this is an issue that would clearly concern O’Neill’s character personally, (he who almost obsessively tries to ensure Lombard’s history of his life is without comment, without interpretation and altogether completely true-to-life[4]) as long as a person studying a history understands and accepts that “history is what historians make”, that they “make it on slender evidence” and that it is “inescapably interpretive” (Jenkins, 2006:30), the quest for ‘real truth’ becomes pointless and unnecessary, and it is building your own interpretation and ideas about the past that become key. Demonstrating this, Shanks states accuracy “is not an intrinsic property or essential quality” (Pearson and Shanks, 2001:114). An example of this in modern society is the Shakespeare debate, featured frequently in the early seminars of this module. Various people have written books[5] disproving Shakespeare as the author of his works, but ultimately this does not detract from the fact that the literary works would be important (in the Elizabethan era and our own) even if they had been written by a man of another name (many authors have written under pseudonyms before and this has not rendered their work invalid!). Therefore, one could conclude that the accuracy surrounding who the ‘the real Shakespeare’ was is not that important overall.
If we accept that factors such as accuracy, subjectivity and bias are not important in historiography, where does this leave the importance of such uncertain histories? Jenkins argues that it is the meaning we derive from the past that has true importance to historians. He states, “historians are not too concerned about discrete facts… historians have ambitions, wishing to discover not only what happened but how and why and what these things meant and mean” (Jenkins, 2006:40). Plumb (2004:12) also supports this view, stating, “the majority of men and historians for most of recorded time were concerned with far more than what merely happened”. This meaning they generate is, of course, particular to the historian, as each interpretation will be unique to the writer, but it can also have great importance, as history is often used by or affects our society. For example, Plumb suggests that it can be used to “give validity to the class structure” or to “sanctify institutions of government” (Plumb, 2004:11), demonstrating how we often draw on what has gone before to validate our actions in the present. Jenkins (2006:22) states, “people(s) literally feel the need to root themselves today and tomorrow in their yesterdays… people(s) in the present need antecedents to… legitimate their ongoing and future ways of living”. With histories being written to help provide the relevant antecedents, we can further clarify what Jenkins means by history being “for someone”.
Particular antecedents can also used by directors or writers in theatre. As a theatrical setting allows for uncertainty and questioning of beliefs and truths, having access to several ‘histories’ can be an advantage, as they can either provide them with several points of view, allowing for a piece that maybe considers some or all of these possibilities, or a particular interpretation that supports and therefore justifies their version depicted or used in their production. Looking at history can also help us to develop and improve on what has gone before. By looking at historians’ interpretations of mistakes made in the past, bearing these in mind we can work towards new solutions, avoiding or solving previous problems. This process of working towards a solution through trial and error can be particularly applied to the theatrical devising process. By looking at past practitioners’ or simply the company’s problems, it is possible to draw new conclusions about how the process can be tackled[6] which can help to shape a new approach. By being aware of theatrical history, it is also possible for older techniques to be examined, reused, revisited or modified to create a new shape for contemporary theatre technique. It can therefore be argued that these uncertain histories still hold some importance for theatre practitioners, writers and anyone working in the theatrical industry.
To summarise, Jenkins believes that historians write ‘histories’, personal interpretations of the past that always have an element of subjectivity and inaccuracy due to the personal nature of interpretation and the fallibility of human memory. His comment, “history is never for itself; it is always for someone” implies that these interpretations are written with specific audiences or purposes in mind. Whilst this perspective could impact greatly on the practice of history, with history playing a key role in theatre, how does Jenkins’ take on the topic affect the theatrical practitioner? As the importance of historical accuracy is removed (as this is considered to be no certain thing), it could be suggested that we should accept revisits to older texts as interpretations, understanding that this has no impact on their validity as no “true” version exists. As an accurate and objective documentation of a performance is not possible, this really emphasises the importance of the live performance, and diminishes the value of any attempt to document or recreate it without interpretation. However, with an emphasis on the importance of the interpretation of what has gone before, the way people come to understand a performance personally also becomes highly significant. It would therefore be beneficial to the practitioner to consider the ways in which they can exploit the audience’s perception of the piece. He may want to ensure that they understand one message or idea within the work and would need to consider specific semiotics and text in order to ensure that this is conveyed correctly. Alternatively, he may want the audience to draw their own conclusions and personal interpretations from the performance and may therefore want to be less specific with what is shown. A performance may also be tailored for a target audience. I would therefore argue that theatre can always be made for someone in the same way that this is possible for history.
[1] This is explained in Arthur Munslow’s introduction to Rethinking History (see bibliography), and is a claim substantiated within the works of historians writing pre-1990, discussed throughout Jenkins’ book.
[2] This is explained in greater detail in David Lowenthal’s book, The Past is a Foreign Country.
[3] Drawn from the television programme entitled “The Holocaust on Trial”, material referenced during the module.
[4] See page 8 of Friel’s Making History to read the discussion that takes place demonstrating these thoughts.
[5] For example, The Truth Will Out: Unmasking the Real Shakespeare by James and Rubinstein.
[6] For example, see Alison Oddeys’ Devising Theatre.
I love how this thing has added endnotes instead of my footnotes :D
And, just a quick woop- I'll be in Norwich from tomorrow until Sunday! Yays!!
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