Monthly Archives: July 2014

Guest post: ‘Biography from below’ with the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography

Today we are privileged to have Philip Carter of the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography walk us through the process of constructing a new entry for the ODNB. In this case the details about the subject Henry Croft were crafted together from many sources in what might be called an obscure, yet regal, life.

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If not the broomstick, the sweeper. Biography from below.

In the mid-eighteenth century biographical writing took something of a democratic turn. In place of didactic characterizations of virtues and failings came an interest in the complexities of an individual life investigated and understood. Samuel Johnson is often held up as a proponent of this more personable form of biography—notably in his life of Richard Savage (1744) and essays in the Rambler and Idler—which is well captured in his gauntlet that there ‘rarely passes a life of which a judicious and faithful narrative would not be useful’.

Johnson’s interest in biographical writing grounded in human estimation and intimate acquaintance dramatically broadened the scope for biographical subjects – animate or otherwise. Well ahead of the early 21st-century publishing trend for ‘biographies’ of cod, salt, Paris etc., Johnson famously claimed he ‘could write the life of a broomstick’. Johnson, moreover, was not a lone voice. Introducing his pictorial Biographical History of England (1769), James Granger set out a study based on twelve hierarchical classes, beginning with ‘monarchs’ and ending with ‘with ballad-singers, chimney-sweepers, and beggars’.

Granger’s interest may seem surprising to us, but this plurality of lives was a common feature in late seventeenth and eighteenth-century works of collective biography in which (beginning with Thomas Fuller’s Worthies of England, 1662) mechanics, pirates, and chancers rubbed along with their social superiors. Moreover, it’s a spirit that prevails in the eminent descendants of Fuller and Granger: the Dictionary of National Biography—which first appeared between 1885 and 1900 under the founding editorship of Sir Leslie Stephen—and its successor, the Oxford DNB, which was published in 2004.

It’s often presumed, mistakenly, that—as a late-Victorian work of national record—Stephen’s DNB must be a gathering of the ‘great and the good’. In fact, the first DNB took much from these earlier biographical collections and from compendia of what we’d now call ‘human interest stories’, such as the Gentleman’s Magazine. Today, Stephen’s Dictionary lives on as the much enlarged and re-written Oxford DNB, a research and publishing project of Oxford University and OUP. In 2004 when it first appeared, in print and online, the Dictionary included biographies of 54,922 individuals active between the Roman invasion and the late-twentieth century. The work of more than 10,000 specialist authors, the ODNB was (as it continues to be) the world’s largest collaborative research project in the humanities.

Since 2004 a small team of academic editors has continued to extend the ODNB’s coverage in regular online updates. Part of this work focuses on the ‘recently deceased’ (no living people are included), with a rolling project to add entries on noteworthy Britons who died in the opening decade of the twenty-first century. Here the need is to infuse contemporary assessments, carried in newspapers obituaries (invariably written while their subject was still alive), with a historical perspective that will stand the test of time.

In addition to these shapers of modern Britain, ODNB editors also look further back—adding new biographies of men and women active across all historical periods. Many of these recent additions are people remembered (and therefore worthy of inclusion) for a single act or event in a life that’s otherwise obscure. The task here is how best to reassemble a shadowy human story to create a full narrative, from birth to death.

This is a challenge but one greatly aided in the past 5-10 years by a boom in digitized records that make accessible, as never before, the nuts and bolts of life writing. In Britain, these include (to name just a few) the census returns from 1841 to 1911, registers of births, marriages, and deaths, parish registers, wills and probate statements on ‘wealth at death’, military service records, and national and provincial newspapers from the late-seventeenth century. With such resources we’re able to continue a longstanding British biographical tradition: recording lesser-known lives and creating collective biography ‘from the bottom up’.

Take, for example, Henry Croft (1861-1930), founder in the 1890s of the London tradition of Pearly kings and queens whose dynasties continue in boroughs across the capital. Online there is no shortage of references to Croft and his ‘pearlies’, but it soon becomes clear that much of this material is partial, anecdotal, and derivative.

Writing a first-time biography always requires a ‘way in’ to the life. For Henry Croft this came via another new online resource, the Pathé news archive, which revealed a one-minute silent clip of a funeral procession for ‘the King of the Pearly Kings’ broadcast in January 1930. This was our starting point. With an approximate death date it was possible to search the digitized indexes of the General Register Office with a degree of precision—imagine how many ‘Henry Crofts’ died in ‘London’ (or elsewhere) sometime in the early to mid-twentieth century. Having found Croft’s death certificate we now had his final residence (the St Pancras workhouse), his profession (a corporation road sweeper), and his age at death (68 years). With the latter we could search the registers for ‘Henry Crofts’ born in 1861 or 1862, his known birth date. This, in turn, revealed that our man had been born on 24 May 1861, remarkably in the same St Pancras workhouse.

With these few markers it was possible to trawl the census returns for 1861 onwards to fill out details of Henry’s wider family: his parents and siblings, and their moves between the tenements of inner city London. Luckily, we also had a reference to Henry’s wife, Lily, who witnessed his death certificate in 1930. Next came a search of marriage records for Henry Crofts marrying women named ‘Lily’, ‘Lillian’, etc. across London from 1880 onwards.

This led to Lily Newton (1874-1940), daughter of a Kentish Town house painter, whom Croft married in February 1892. From here it was possible to piece together their married life, using the censuses for 1901 and 1911. By this date Henry and Lily had eight children and were living at 15 Charles (now Phoenix) Street (close by the British Library), the same address given by Lily on her husband’s death certificate 19 years later. In both censuses Henry gave his occupation as ‘road sweeper’, employment he retained until his retirement in 1928.

The outline of Croft’s biography was now in place. But what of his life as the original Pearly King, the reason for his intended inclusion in the ODNB? It’s worth remembering who we’re dealing with. Though the Pearly tradition is now well-known, its founder lived on the lowest rungs of London’s social hierarchy. Henry was poor, and very poorly educated, and there would be no personal papers with which to flesh out the life.

At this point online newspapers came to the rescue, making it possible to search across national and London titles for occasional glimpses of Croft as a pearly king. Just a few years ago finding such references would have been pure chance. Now it was possible to trace Henry’s first known appearance as a public figure: a 1902 magazine article which introduced ‘Mr Croft’, the ‘Pearlie king of Somers Town’, replete with a handmade suit of 5000 buttons. Later newspaper references identified Croft in various ‘pearly’ roles: raising money for charity, taking part in annual horse and donkey shows, and even a meeting between Croft and Edward VII at Olympia in 1907. Searches of local London papers also brought to light several death notices which provided further details of Croft’s personal and public life.

Starting from a short, silent film clip we now had enough to write Croft’s story for the first time. So Henry Croft entered the Oxford DNB in a recent update. If not the broomstick, at least the sweeper; the man who began as a beggar and ended as a monarch. Hopefully Johnson and Granger would have been pleased.

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Philip Carter is Publication Editor at the Oxford DNB and a member of the History Faculty, University of Oxford.

Guest Post: Review of IABA 2014 Conference, Part III of III

Seraphima Kennedy reviews the third day of the IABA Conference in Banff in this final installment of her three part guest post series.

Crash! Fictional Transits, Neoliberal Stories and Indigenous Representations

The Banff Centre emerged as a sparkling venue for a conference of this size, not only because of the spectacular scenery and great food. As well as a fully stocked library open to text-hungry delegates, the centre’s programme of residencies for emerging artists meant a quiet drink in the bar could be spiced up by a percussion performance, jazz guitar or saxophone solo.

By the final day of IABA 2014, delegates had encountered tranquil species of deer in the surrounding grounds, and some had even seen bears in the national park. We watched an elk swim from one side of the river to another at the same time as new areas were opening up in the field of life writing and creative practice.

Elk crossing the river_post 3

bridge_post 3

 

Much new work was pulling auto/biography into uncharted territory. Delegates extended their analyses away from the academic ‘ivory tower’ to the real world implications of memoir’s life writing cousins: the fourth wave of human rights narratives (Margaretta Jolly), the unique human rights work accomplished by semi-autobiographical texts (Meg Jensen), zines about suicide (Anna Poletti), testimonies of child soldiers (Kate Douglas), and narratives written by legal representatives of Guantanamo inmates (Terri Tomsky).

An awareness of place returned on day three, as critics examined the relationship between mainstream Canadian culture and Indigenous Literature. Laurie McNeill presented a valuable critique of one university’s pedagogy of decolonization in relation to Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission directives. How can instructors create an ethical awareness without allowing testimonies to be simply consumed? This was a practical, as well as an ethical concern.

For Caitlin Elm, the critical tools available for reading indigenous texts were insufficient. In the current framework, she argued, indigenous texts are inevitably colonized in their very production. There was a lively discussion from the floor about whether acts of resistance can avoid being forced into a canon. ‘The way to meet cultures,’ said Sharron Proulx-Turner, ‘is to witness the culture rather than manipulate for a western ‘I.’

Janice Hladki’s analysis of visual artist Kent Monkman’s practice raised important questions about memory and affect, with Monkman’s video character ‘Miss Chief Eagle Testickle’ interrogating the ways that countermemorial artworks can reclaim/recast dominant narratives. Using elements of Hollywood melodrama and the Bluebeard saga, Monkman satirically deconstructed nation-state celebrations of white settler histories through the paradigm of an S&M relationship.

In the final keynote address, Rocio Davis reversed the analysis, looking at the embedding of fictive autobiographical narratives within contemporary novels rather than sifting representation for fictive constructs. Using Michael Ondaatje, J.M. Coetzee, Dave Eggers and Ruth Ozeki, Davis examined the transits between fiction and nonfiction in twenty-first century novels.

Davis went on to question the difference between a ‘sense of truth’ and ‘faking it’. Is it ‘truthiness’ rather than truth that readers seek in memoir? As Ondaatje himself said in an appearance at Wolfson College, Oxford earlier this year, wanting a ‘feel of memoir’ about your book is very different from writing an autobiography. The fact that an author’s presence slips in and out of a text does not mean the book is autobiographical.

This sense of narratives being made somehow more ‘real’ by authorial interventions moved in interesting directions in Davis’ discussion of Ruth Ozeki’s A Tale for the Time Being. ‘I am writing this and wondering about you somewhere in my future,’ Ozeki’s story begins. Davis referenced a metatextual discourse in which cognitive pleasure arises from the reader’s understanding of narrative mechanics. Memoir and fiction are locked in productive tension, each providing a fundamental quality the other just can’t match.

This tension was foregrounded in John David Zuern’s dissection of US memoirs written after the economic crisis of 2008. Pinning down the idea of post-crash memoirs as transitory texts, Zuern highlighted the transits of the memoirist’s self into pre-written narrative modes, and argued that austerity had led to a ‘precarization of the self’ in which the centre does not hold.

Emily Hipchen gave a thrilling paper on the construction of Steve Jobs in Walter Isaacson’s memoir of the same name. Hipchen showed how Jobs’ life is narrated in orbit by his status as hyper-capable human, traumatised adoptee, and ‘supercrip.’ There was a lightbulb moment in the discussion between Hipchen and Craig Howes when the relevance to liberal ideology, the self-made man and the Superman story was noted. This was the kind of electricity of which the best intellectual discussions are made.

IABA 2014 showed that traditional genre boundaries can be inadequate when discussing life writing in the current moment. Beginning with Carolyn Miller’s discussion of genre as social action before moving through human rights, selfies and post-boom memoirs, delegates demonstrated the capacity of life writing in all its forms for ‘holding disparate moments in tension’ (Julia Watson). This was also the capacity to create and to consume, to allow unheard voices into the cultural archive, and to hold up the stories that are written down against those that are forgotten.

Literature is often placed in a different category from memoir on the one hand and autobiographical acts on the other. At IABA 2014, delegates asked how the three are interlinked. Do different ethical standards apply to a fictional rather than a life writing text? What are the transits between high literature and human rights testimony? How do we create new methodologies to respond to lives, narratives and other forms of self-representation that are constantly in motion?

Perhaps we can look to Ozeki’s text, in which the main character’s father finds an internet app that allows him to erase his daughter’s name from the internet. In light of the EU/Google ‘right to be forgotten’ case, this travelling concept illustrates the transits between fiction, life writing, and contemporary culture. As we interrogate life writing texts and practices, we can perhaps concur with Ozeki: ‘Life is full of stories – or maybe life is only stories.’

Guest Post: Review of the 2014 International Association for Biography and Autobiography Conference, Part II

In part two of a three-part series, Seraphima Kennedy reports back from ‘Autobiography in Transit,’ conference of the International Association for Biography and Autobiography in Banff, Canada.

Biotexts, Justice and the Metonymics of Pain 

By the second day of IABA 2014, standards were already high. The Banff Centre, tucked into one end of the Bow River Valley, delivered stunning views of ice-capped Rocky Mountains from each of its lecture rooms. A lunchtime walk meant bumping into dainty groups of white-tailed deer emerging from the forest to nibble roadside grass. The breakfast buffet was a destination in itself and, this being Canada, the swimming pool came with a hot tub.

Of course it wasn’t all about the buffet. Many of those assembled were international scholars at the top of their game, and new themes quickly emerged. The conference was marked by a focus on ethics, the interplay between verbal-visual matrices, comics, the internet, geography and new methodologies for reading and writing life narratives.

Leigh Gilmore’s paper, ‘Getting a Handle on Pain,’ took up Carolyn Miller’s challenge in the first keynote to extend life writing theory from the verbal to the visual. Examining the use of metonymy and synecdoche in memoir book jackets, Gilmore showed how stories of chronic pain often use images of body parts to stand in for a frailty that’s also a punishment. Following Susan Sontag, Gilmore argued that, as readers, we need to hold ourselves accountable for how we look and read, ending with a call to develop new critical tools.

Sidonie Smith raised similar concerns around ethics and methodology in her paper ‘Auto/biographical Transit on the United States – Mexico border.’ Smith used the skills associated with close reading to critique a form of visual practice by artists in the ‘State of Exception’ exhibit, noting how in this exhibit (and in real life), undocumented migrants pay the price of transit with loss and even death. This paper reflected the concern of many academics at IABA that the practice and critique of life writing should not just be theoretical.

What was at stake in life writing, for many of those present, were the real world implications of individual and collective transits. Dynamics of space and geography were also important for Alfred Hornung, who discussed the Chinese management of Tibetan autonomous prefectures. Hornung explored a coexistence of different forms of life writing on Tibetan land, ranging from Han Chinese attempts to impose bureaucratic processes through inscriptions on hillsides and stone markers relating to the Long March, to Tibetan prayer flags and evidence of sky burials.

For this writer, the panel on ‘Comics and Justice’ provided a high point: Candida Rifkind, Eleanor Ty and Julia Watson all gave insightful analyses of very different forms of life writing practice.

Julia Watson’s presentation on Iranian writer Parsua Bashi’s Nylon Road took up the challenge of life writing in the verbal/visual matrix. Watson looked at ‘the affordances of comics for holding disparate moments in productive tension,’ and argued that the graphic memoir can ‘help us sharpen our notion of what transnational memoirs can do.’ The inherent instability in comics, she argued, produces ‘both confusion and new possibilities for autobiographical subjects in transit.’ This was thrilling stuff.

The second keynote speaker of the conference was Fred Wah, Professor Emeritus in Poetry at the University of Calgary. Born in Saskatchewan in 1939 to Chinese- and Swedish-Canadian parents, Wah grew up in a succession of cafés and restaurants, the memory of which heavily influenced his most famous collections of poetry, Waiting for Saskatchewan (which won the Governor General’s award) and, more recently, the acclaimed Diamond Grill.

Wah slipped between the academic and poetic, weaving extracts from his ‘biotext,’ Diamond Grill, into notes on the history of the long form poem in Canada and the discourse of multiculturalism. Emphasising the use of the cadence in Diamond Grill, Wah said that he aimed to challenge the ‘tyranny of the sentence’ as a closed measure of thought. Like Michael Ondaatje, Wah’s writing embodies a formal hybridity and playfulness that seeks to transcend its immediate environment.

For Wah, the idea of ‘place’ becomes ‘a crucial and dynamic term for how we negotiate our literature.’ Yet ‘place’ is not static: there is a sense of movement between and across nations, and through fluid identities. Wah’s sense of place is defined by the swinging door in his parents’ Chinese café, an open metaphor operating throughout much of his work. This allows him to locate himself within the ‘swinging door’ of the hyphen, which is also the space between Chinese and Canadian.

This kind of formal innovation is the best kind of theory in practice, emphasizing the ways in which life writing can be used to broaden the stories in our cultural archive. ‘My foot registers more than its own imprint,’ Wah said, while through the big picture window in the lecture theatre two young deer hopped through the clearing between the mountains.

Next week: Crash! Fictional Transits, Neoliberal Stories and Indigenous Representations

 

Guest post: Review of the Conference for the International Association for Biography and Autobiography (IABA) 2014, Part I of III

Hello life-writers!

We are delighted to bring you another three-part guest post series this summer.  Seraphima Kennedy, a PhD candidate at Goldsmiths, reviews aspects of the 2014 IABA conference in Banff.

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Conference for the International Association for Biography and Autobiography (IABA)

Auto/biography in Transit
May 29-June 1, 2014
Banff Centre, Alberta, Canada 

‘Autobiography in Transit’ and Theory on the Front Line: How IABA 2014 is Sounding out New Depths in Life Writing Scholarship

Canada! Migration! Being and illness! Ethics, artists, comics! The ninth international conference for the International Association for Biography and Autobiography took place from 29 May – 1st June at the Banff Centre for the Arts, Canada, its mission to investigate all things Life Writing-related. Seraphima Kennedy swapped Goldsmiths for the Canadian Rockies to report back. 

Ever seen a bear being paintballed out of a national park? An elk swimming across a river? Deer leaping across the path on your morning run? Delegates got more than they bargained for at the at the IABA 2014 conference at the Banff Centre for the Arts in Alberta, a multidisciplinary institution in a spectacular setting surrounded by ice-capped mountains, fast-flowing rivers and seemingly endless grasslands. The conference programme was packed with some of the biggest names in contemporary life writing scholarship and practice. In a series of three guest posts, I will outline some of the key developments in the field, while focusing on a couple of papers in detail which may be of interest to OCLW readers.

The topic of the conference, organized by Eva Karpinski, Laurie McNeill, Julie Rak and Linda Warley, was ‘Autobiography in Transit.’ Papers were invited on transit and transition as ways of interrogating how lives, narratives and other forms of self-representation are constantly in motion. Over three days delegates attended to a range of questions concerning the practice and critique of auto/biography, representation and transits of the self, and new methodologies of reading. Uniquely the conference also created a high-voltage opportunity for new scholars and graduate students to engage with expert mentors, through a dedicated workshop with contributions from Sidonie Smith, Alfred Hornung, Craig Howes, Rocio Davis, and many others who were on hand to offer advice to early career researchers in the field of life writing publishing.

The conference proper began with a blessing from Elder Tom Crane Bear, caretaker of the land and a member of the Siksika nation. ‘We came up through the southwest where the chockecherries grow,’ he said, speaking about the journey of his people, the Blackfoots. Ideas of lives in transit, of movement both between and within life stories, were central to the conversations scholars would go on to have over the next few days during panels on Theorizing Human Rights, Representing Islam, Digital Futures, Nineteenth-Century Women’s Narratives, Neoliberal Stories, and Comics and Justice, among many others.

In her keynote address ‘Memoir, Blog, and Selfie: Genre as Social Action in Autobiographical Representations,’ Carolyn Miller treated the audience to a history of the self-referential portrait, linking genre expectations, social structures and Lejeune’s ‘autobiographical pact’ with James Frey, Oprah, and the ‘fifteen types of selfie.’ Could selfies be seen as a form of life writing? A lively debate set the tone for a stimulating and at times controversial three days, while the Twitter-sphere saw the emergence of a new kind of selfie – the ‘IABA 2014 selfie.’ This proved a popular genre among assembled scholars, and provided much entertainment over the course of the conference (look for #iaba2014selfie on Twitter, or scroll through #iaba2014 to see some of the best of these).

Elder Tom’s novelistic turn of phrase also pointed to an awareness of the links between critical theory and creative practice. This was reflected in the foregrounding of creative writers in the Life Writers Reading Series: Patrick Lane, Sharon Proulx-Turner and Fred Wah all gave stellar readings and keynotes that called into question the links between political and personal, national and international, domestic and public.

Sharron Proulx-Turner was generously sponsored by the journal a/b: auto/biography studies and Patrick Lane appeared courtesy of the Writer’s Union, bringing two of the finest voices in Canadian literature into the conference fold. The first day of the conference ended with a drinks reception in the stunning Tom Crane Bear Hall of the Max Bell Building, with views of the sun setting over the glorious Rocky Mountains. Métis poet Sharron read from a series of poems including ‘A Houseful of Birds,’ before talking about sealed records and the legacy of Canada’s Residential School system. ‘There was another story there,’ she read, ‘where a girl opened her mouth and inside was the universe.’ Sharron was a compelling speaker about the impact of trauma on her own writing, her methods of using autobiographical material, and a compassionate and singular presence throughout the rest of the conference.

Patrick Lane was just as frank with his discussion of the uses of autobiography, the writing process, fear of failure and his decision to start writing. Hinting at a combination of memory, experience and sense, writing for Lane was bound up with affect: ‘I can still feel those dark mountains, they rose like morning clothes from Kootenay lake.’ Somehow the act of writing coexisted with the fear of erasure, an awareness of not being fully represented: ‘’Canada did not exist, and neither did I. I wanted to exist,’ he said. These were powerful, intimate readings, highlighting some of the faultlines inherent in the theorization of writing about the self that would be plotted over the next two days. And, as Lane acknowledged, this was why we were there. ‘You guys are the academics,’ he said. ‘I’m just a writer.’

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Next week: Leigh Gilmore on ‘Getting a handle on pain,’ Fred Wah on hyphens and the swinging door, Julia Watson on comics and justice.

Seraphima Kennedy is a writer and final year Ph.D candidate in Creative and Life Writing at Goldsmiths, University of London where she is also a Visiting Tutor in Creative Writing. Her practice-based research focuses on contemporary memoir and autobiography, with a particular focus on adoption memoirs. Seraphima writes poetry, fiction and life writing, and is currently writing her first novel.

Email: s.kennedy@gold.ac.uk

Twitter: @seraphimak

 

OCLW event: “Coetzee’s Lives” Colloquium, 13th June 2014

Today we have an event summary of the recent “Coetzee’s Lives” Colloquium at OCLW. This summary was written by English DPhil students Eleni Philippou and Erica Lombard with Professor Elleke Boehmer.

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The airy and finely crafted Leonard Woolf Auditorium was the perfect setting for the OCLW colloquium, the last of the year, on that arch artist, J.M. Coetzee, the South African (and now Australian) novelist and 2003 Nobel Laureate for Literature. Following on from a reading that J.M. Coetzee himself gave at Wolfson the evening before, the 13 June 2014 colloquium, entitled “Coetzee’s Lives”, sought through a discussion of Coetzee’s often self-reflexive work, to highlight questions of how we represent a life: how life might be used as material for fiction, and how life-writing takes fictional forms.

Prof David Attwell

Professor David Attwell

Organised by OCLW’s Deputy Director Professor Elleke Boehmer, together with English DPhil students Eleni Philippou and Erica Lombard, the afternoon began with a keynote address delivered by Professor David Attwell of the University of York, entitled “The Life of Writing in J.M. Coetzee: Autobiography into Fiction”. One of the world’s leading Coetzee scholars, Attwell shared with the audience some central observations from his forthcoming book, Face to Face With Time: the Authorship of J.M. Coetzee (2014), concerning how Coetzee has consistently, across his oeuvre, transmuted personal dilemmas and concerns into fiction. Based on his research into Coetzee’s newly available archive at the Harry Ransom Centre at the University of Texas in Austin, USA, itself a highly crafted artefact, Attwell gave the audience a fascinating glimpse into the author’s writing process, revealing how Coetzee’s detached prose belies the deeply autobiographical and existential roots of his novels. Leading us on a deftly curated journey through the successive drafts of the novel that became Life & Times of Michael K (1983), Attwell detailed how Coetzee’s sparse, impersonal style is the end result of a long, painstaking, and sometimes painful, process by which Coetzee writes himself out of his work. In manuscript after manuscript, his life can be seen to give way or give up to fiction.

Coetzee's Lives panelAttwell’s keynote address was followed by a panel discussion between Professor Elleke Boehmer, Professor Patrick Hayes, Dr Michelle Kelly, and Professor Peter D. McDonald, all members of the English Faculty here at Oxford who have worked on Coetzee. The panellists’ responses to the keynote centred, firstly, on the implications of Coetzee’s archive as a curated “life”, with Boehmer suggesting that we might consider the archive, the work, and the life as three mutually illuminating aspects of Coetzee’s literary life. Secondly, the discussion turned to what Attwell’s research suggests about the location of the writing self in Coetzee’s work, and the critic’s desire to uncover the traces that remain despite Coetzee’s self-effacing process of writing.

The final section of the colloquium comprised a series of short papers presented by six early career researchers, including four current Oxford DPhil students. Each paper interpreted the colloquium’s theme “Coetzee’s Lives” in rich and innovative ways, and, indeed, covered the gamut of human life from motherhood and childhood to death and decomposition. The first speaker, Eleni Philippou, presented a paper entitled “‘Sons and Lovers Mothers’: Coetzee on Motherhood”, which highlighted the surprising resonances between the complex mother-son relationships in Coetzee’s memoir Boyhood and D.H. Lawrence’s autobiographical Sons and Lovers. Alicia Broggi followed with “Demythologizing Discourse ‘to make writing possible’: Calvinism in Dusklands”, a fascinating exploration of the ways in which Coetzee contends with and works out Calvinism, one of the shaping forces of his own Afrikaner history, in his first novel, Dusklands.

“Coetzee on Criticism; Coetzee and Criticism”, Andrew Dean’s paper, investigated Coetzee’s deep investment in exploring the limits of critical discourse, and how this impacts the formal aspects of his texts. Dean’s paper fitted perfectly with “‘Not poetry, economy’: J.M. Coetzee and Authorship”, Charlotta Salmi’s eloquent piece that considered Coetzee as a skilled craftsman, carefully balancing the act of personal confession with the reserve involved in the calculated crafting of words in fiction.

Jarad Zimbler’s paper, “Death Writing: An Essay in Decomposition”, followed. Conceived of as a kind of farewell as Zimbler prepares to move beyond Coetzee in his own work, this poetic experimental paper was an emotionally and semantically rich exploration of remains in Coetzee’s oeuvre. The colloquium ended on a lighter note with Erica Lombard’s “Making Fun of Coetzee”, a tongue-in-cheek yet itself in part autobiographical exploration of how Coetzee’s very serious, even godlike, status in South African literature makes the very act of criticism fraught for those wishing to speak about him in less-than-reverential tones.

Its title part-riffing on one of Coetzee’s own titles, The Lives of Animals, the colloquium in several ways embodied new “lives” for Coetzee criticism, and articulated a new boldness in approaching the links between life and fiction in his work. Wolfson President Professor Dame Hermione Lee ended the afternoon’s events by asking the senior Coetzee scholars where they thought the future of Coetzee criticism was headed, and how this had changed from when they had first started writing about Coetzee. Not only were these critics clear that they felt the “Australian” Coetzee provided critics with worthwhile avenues of research, but they also asserted that their current encounter with the new cohort of aspirant literary critics at the colloquium boded well for future work. If the OCLW colloquium could be held to offer a taste of where future discussion of the multivalent “lives” of Coetzee is going, then it would seem that various fascinating critical and representational possibilities are to come.