Dear István,

You asked for thoughts to take to Volda, on its lovely fjord.

My rich experience in Budapest, hearing microhistorians of many nationalities, leads me to the following thoughts.

a. National traditions are interestingly different. Iceland, Norway, Hungary, Italy, North America (there is no Canadian version, I think, distinct from that in the USA, and Natalie Davis is from the USA but has spent much of her career in Toronto and is here now.)

b. In rough, one might point to North American narrativity and play, and European social science. But the distinction is imperfect.

c. In any case, it seems to me that rich training, for an MA, would bring students from several traditions together, the better to share outlooks and methods.

d. If it turns out that Reykjavik is the place, and it is expensive for students, one could keep the visits there down to six weeks, or four. But then one could also send the Icelandic students to reside in Hungary or Germany or some other place, in similar fashion, if one had two or three poles of pedagogy.

e. If none of these poles leaned towards “North American” narrative approaches, one could bring in scholars who work that way, for mix. Jodi Bilinkoff, for instance.

f. My own experience with undergraduates tells me that theory and practice work well together. One form of practice is a big project, an MA-thesis. But I have had brilliant results, when the students are strong, even with one-week mini-micro histories, incompletely ensconced in larger context, but still very challenging, and excellent training in many of the crucial methods of data-manipulation, source criticism, and explication of result.

g. I am also struck by the virtues of team-work among students, even on projects of short duration. Division of labour, followed by collaborative integration, makes for rapid learning and high morale.

i. When it comes to my narrative microhistories, I teach the timeline and the dossiers of things and persons. I often evoke those detective shows on television, as a model.

j. When it comes to analysis, I ask my students to compile, to the extent possible, the goals, the fears, the assets, and the liabilities of each personage or institution involved. That leads to a discussion of explicit and implicit strategies.

k. As for the documents themselves, I always insist on a very full statement of what I call their WWWWW: When, Where, What for, made by Whom? And What is it, by genre. And I push maniacally close reading, with an eye not only to surface text but also to resonances and suggested meanings.

l. And I am keen to situate any story, so far as possible, in its spaces, in every sense of that word.

m. As a writer, I aim for artistry, and try to keep the conventions of literature, the stage, and film in mind. I try to put few barriers between myself and my story and my readers.

Now I do not mean that the pedagogy of the MA should do all these things that I do, but I do think that a good MA stresses both the science of the practice and the artistry of its eventual presentation. Microhistory, in several of our countries here, is a national practice connected intimately with national culture, collective memory, oral culture, material culture, and sense of place. All these facts argue for teaching our students good ways of writing not only to scholars but also to a very sympathetic and interested general public. So, to my eye, a good MA spends a fair bit of time pondering the mission of the scholar. That, again, is one good reason for inviting students to reside abroad (or at least to interact intensely via the web). The mission will vary with the national traditions, and dialogue here is fruitful.

I hope these thoughts help the Volda discussions. Give my greetings to so many fine people I met in Budapest.

Tom

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