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Canon-Busting, the Sequel: Reflections on an Experimental
Fusion of Pedagogy and Research |
The Corvey Project at
Sheffield Hallam University |
E.J. Clery, CCUE Conference: Difference
and Diversity, University of Loughborough
8-10 September 1998
I’m currently a research
fellow at Sheffield Hallam University, engaged in a four-year group project
on women’s writing of the romantic era. The brief is full-time research,
with the ambitious aim of ‘mapping’ women’s writing from 1790-1840, using
the unique collection of more than 1,000 female-authored texts in the
belles-lettres section of the Corvey Library, of which more in a moment.
But I’m beginning to wonder if one of the most productive outcomes of
the project will in fact be a pedagogic offshoot, involving undergraduates
in the processes of fact-finding, analysis and generation of material
for our database. The scheme, which we jauntily titled ‘Adopt an Author’,
has I think taken those of us involved in running it by surprise, and
has certainly become a learning experience for me. I’m still trying to
get a grasp of its implications.
Chris Ringrose‘s
invitation to me to write something about the scheme for the research
issue of the CCUE newsletter, which came out last month, was very helpful
in spurring me to try and give some coherence to my thoughts. But in fact
I realize now the short piece reveals a shift in emphasis. I titled it
‘canon-busting’, and began with a standard rallying-cry versus romantic
studies of the ‘big six’ variety. I’ve implied a continuity of that focus
in the title of this paper, but is this the main point? Yes, we
asked to students to examine non-canonical texts, and this is in part
what gives their work its particular value and sense of purpose. However,
this work depends on the contingency of possessing the Corvey Microfiche
Edition. Difficult to hold it up as a model of good teaching practice
when it is so clearly hinges on what is at present a very rare resource.
I’m beginning to
think that the true significance of the experiment lies elsewhere, not
so much in its ability to bring into play this or that lost text or forgotten
author, but rather in the fusion of undergraduate study and real
research. By this I mean a genuine fusion, involving research that
matters. I’ve been familiar with what I believe is a fairly standard
pattern in English BA degrees, where in the final year tutors offer an
assortment of specialised courses based on their own research. Often students
find this stimulating, the most rewarding part of their university experience;
but in terms of the research / teaching binary, what it offers most of
them, momentarily, is a window on the tutor’s research, and on
the research culture of the institution. They remain outsiders, looking
in. Soon, most will leave, and begin ‘real life’, and this brief contact
with the world of scholarship will fade without a trace.
A scheme like ‘Adopt
an Author’ represents an alternative to this pattern, and may contain
a certain potential. What makes the difference, I believe, is that the
student’s work constitutes real research. This is what enthused
those involved: there is a real purpose, leading to real results, which
are made public as any worthwhile scholarship would be. This is a factor
which breaks down the research / teaching binary, and makes undergraduates
insiders in the research culture of the university. And since the results
of their investigations will be permanent and freely accessible, they
have a permanent stake in academic scholarship, and, even if they don’t
proceed to postgraduate level, may perhaps be encouraged in future to
do more.
I realise some of
what I’ve said must appear cryptic, given that I haven’t yet explained
much about the scheme. But I did want to get across at the outset this
sense of potential. So now begins the paper proper. First, I’ll outline
briefly the nature of the Corvey Project. Then I’ll identify what I see
as the three key elements which together create the value of the ‘Adopt
an Author’ scheme: (1) the student’s acquisition of traditional research
skills; (2) the production by the student of a portfolio, involving a
range of disciplines of scholarly writing, descriptive, bibliographical,
and critical; (3) the use of digital technology, both for research and
for the publication of results. Technophobe though I am, I have to admit
that this latter is probably the most vital of all the elements, and I’m
sorry that my colleague and fellow Research Fellow Glenn Dibert-Himes,
who deals in a hands-on way with the IT side of the project, is unwell
and wasn’t able to join me here today for this presentation.
So first, a brief
account of the Corvey Project. The library at SHU acquired the belles-lettres
section of the Corvey Microfiche Edition (CME) in 1995: this included
fascimiles of more than 9000 volumes from the Corvey Library. The collection
dates from the early 19th century, is located in Germany, and contains
in total [] volumes in German, French and English, mainly from the period
1790 to 1840. The belles-lettres section, which was published in facsimile
on microfiche by the German publisher Belser, includes poetry, drama,
some periodicals and above all, fiction. As well as male-authored and
anonymous works, it is particularly impressive for the number of works
attributed to women writers. Indeed, Peter Garside of University of Wales,
Cardiff, has used Corvey to ascertain that female writers of fiction outnumbered
males between 1800 and c.1820. The Sheffield Hallam Corvey Project on
women’s writing was launched in 1996. It’s a pleasure to have here in
this session Judy Simons, who was then the leading light in the English
Department at SHU, and prepared the successful application to the British
Academy for project funding. The aim of the Project was, in the most general
terms, as I’ve said, to create a fuller picture of women’s literary production
during the romantic era. It was also to involve crucially an interaction
of traditional scholarship and digital technology. The final product will
be in digital form, and plans for an online database have been the focus
of our work from the start.
What we have at the
moment is a website on the World Wide Web which explains the history and
contents of the collection, outlines the project, and contains catalogues
of various sections of the library. The core is a carefully verified catalogue
of the women’s belles-lettres writing, which is being expanded progressively
as a hypertext database. Hypertext is a system of interconnected documents;
for instance, we’ve set things up so that by clicking on the name of an
author, you can bring up a menu of options which include biographies,
bibliographies, critical and contextual material, portraits and other
images, contemporary reviews and so on. If you click on a title in the
catalogue, you can look at a synopsis, or a facsimile title page. We are
also working at providing keyword descriptions of individual texts, which
would allow users to search the catalogue thematically. Incorporated within
this database is the material produced by students in the first year of
the ‘Adopt an Author’ scheme, 97/98.
The normal form for
the third year special study unit is for students to work independently
over two semesters and produce a critical dissertation on texts of their
choice, or a piece of creative writing. The Corvey option offers something
more structured. Last year, it began with a series of three group orientation
sessions. Students were helped to choose their author and texts (usually
two), given an extensive list of reference and critical books, and encouraged
to use the Internet to find other material. After that they were essentially
let loose on their on, but had allotted supervisors, and were welcome
to visit the Project Research Fellows whenever they wished.
In the first couple
of months, up until around Christmas, they found their feet in the libraries
of Sheffield, and exercised research skills, searching for anything that
could be found on the author or the chosen works by her. Understandably,
they were strongly motivated by a sense of ownership: this was their
author, and it was up to them to uncover and compile information that
was readily available nowhere else. As a result, biography was the first
line of attack. There were a range of biographical dictionaries of women
writers which were more or less useful: the most inclusive is the Feminist
Companion to English Literature. Some found it relatively easy to
begin compiling a reading list from standard reference works; a few students
had chosen authors who led well-documented lives, such as the Countess
of Blessington, Catherine Gore and Mary Mitford. Another specialised resource
we had available, was the Royal Literary Fund Archives on microfilm, a
deposit of case histories of needy authors who applied to the fund from
the 1790s onwards. One student, working on Selina Davenport, a prolific
novelist, hit the jackpot with this. Elizabeth Gaskell was the referee
for one of Davenport’s appeals to the Fund, and a search through Gaskell’s
published letters revealed an extensive account of Davenport’s history.
Furthermore, the estranged husband of Davenport had also applied to the
Fund, firing off vitriolic accusations at his wife. Pieced together, the
story emerged as a lurid domestic melodrama, to rival the plot of any
of the sensational novels at the time. But this was something of a one-off.
Other students could find little in the way of concrete facts, and sensibly
chose instead to look at milieu in relation to their writings: Elizabeth
Bonhote’s roots in Suffolk, for instance, or Alicia Palmer’s setting in
fashionable Bath. One or two could get no biographical material at all;
the identity of Medora Gordon Byron remains a mystery, but the student
opted to look at the authorical persona, and the resonances of this assumed
name.
I was impressed by
the students’ tenacity in tackling the libraries, using them in ways which
were quite new to them. They were given short shrift a few times by overworked
librarians; their questions could be naive. But on the whole they were
very effective researchers. Three of them got together and met for a research
session at a selected venue each fortnight. Eventually they went to the
Brotherton Library at University of Leeds, to look at reviews in the 19th
century periodical collection there. Others visited local history archives,
checking genealogies and places of residence. One contacted the National
Library of Scotland for information about Anne Bannerman and other Scottish
writers, and received a detailed response. Another discovered through
the Internet that a work by her chosen author, Charlotte Nooth, which
we didn’t have, was available as a transcript through the Brown Women
Writers Project in the States, and managed to obtain it.
By Christmas, all
the students had received print-outs of the fascimile edition of their
first text; the second arrived in March, delayed by short-staffing in
the library. They then buckled down to a variety of tasks. In addition
to writing a short biography, they were asked to produce a synopsis of
each narrative work, a keyword description (mainly thematic), an account
of contemporary reception where possible, a critical essay, and an annotated
bibliography. The factual and descriptive elements might be seen as a
soft option compared to a full length dissertation, but in fact they require
analytical intelligence and selective judgement of a kind which is not
often exercised in the British system of literature teaching. The essays
were also a challenge: no safety net of received critical opinion. But
this vacuum was often handled very resourcefully; for instance, a poem
addressed by Charlotte Nooth to Mme de Stael was made the basis for an
investigation of their contrasting attitudes to femininity, romanticism
and the moral function of literature; with critical writing on the better-known
author bolstering the points.
Partly because the
requirements were sometimes unfamiliar, and the context lacking, the performance
of each student could be quite variable. All of the students completed
some of the sections with proficiency, to publishable standards; only
a few succeeded right across the board. We may need to improve guidelines,
but the fact that we now have work viewable on the website will help next
year’s students enormously. The students were aware from the start that
each element of their portfolio could be a valuable addition to the database.
If the work was up to scratch, it would be included with acknowledgement.
When they handed in their folders, they included a computer disk version
for us to work from, and a release form allowing us to edit and publish
it on the internet. This incentive undoubtably lifted their standards,
and many of them received by far their best grade for this unit.
Glenn is currently
setting up ‘Adopt an Author’ sites and I’m sifting through the portfolios,
and converting the material into HTML - and I can tell you it’s no picnic.
Apart from the spelling and grammatical errors, we didn’t manage to establish
a standard editorial style this year, and some of the students had bad
habits, like pressing hard return after each line. Conversion into HTML
wipes out footnotes, which have to be painstakingly restored, as so on.
But we’re convinced the trouble is worth it. The material will be online
as an example and an inspiration for future students (and hopefully make
our task less onerous next summer). And beyond that, the whole point of
the exercise is to give the students a public platform, to make available
their contribution to a major research project. It’s become possible through
the development of digital technology. Although far from misty-eyed about
the internet in general, I have to say in this respect the possibilities
seem tremendous, towards a university not only without the strict division
between producers and consumers of printed knowledge, but even without
walls...
One colleague, after
marking a number of the portfolios, said in an offhand way, ‘You know,
whatever the mark, for the first time I feel like I’m learning something
from each of the students’. And that to me is precisely the potential
that has emerged from the scheme. Undergraduates are able to make themselves
experts in a specialised field, instructors in their own right. Their
contributions are substantial and may even be influential. The ‘Adopt
an Author’ web pages will contain the first commentary of any substance
for more than a century and a half on the work of Charlotte Nooth, Alicia
Palmer, Anna Maria Bennett, Elizabeth Helme and Amelia Beauclerc.
This fusion of teaching
and learning has arisen almost accidentally, through a desire to utilise
more thoroughly a rare archival resource, and to extend an existing research
project; perhaps similar initiatives already exist elsewhere. The benefits
its brought us in its first year lead me to wonder whether every collective
research endeavour should contain this kind of pedagogic dimension as
a matter of course; or even whether research projects should be established
with the involvement of BA students in mind. The benefits work both ways,
for students and for staff. For the students, the research experience
is empowering; they learn to seek information, to use reference tools,
to comb through archives, to fully inhabit a library (if I may use that
old-fashioned term) in a way which must help them deal with a variety
of situations in the future. Then there’s the pleasure of research. Surely
no student should graduate without having the opportunity to experience
the thrill of the chase: the great satisfaction of defining a project,
gathering evidence, overcoming obstacles, with concrete results.
And for us, apart
from the useful results provided by student researchers, there would be
a growing body of graduates with an insider appreciation of the methods,
value and purpose of research. There would also be an opportunity to challenge
the persistent and damaging notion of a clerisy: the scholarly minority,
guardians of culture. This Leavisite credo seems if anything to have been
reinforced by such recent measures as the TQA, RAE and even the introduction
of tuition fees. How are we to avoid an ever more entrenched siege mentality
in the profession? One answer may lie in a rethink of the relation between
teaching and research, and skilful exploitation of new technology.
© Copyright 1998 E J Clery / Sheffield Hallam University
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