Into the Archives: Listening to the Voice in the Archive, by Dr Beth Wilson

Picture of the Archives of Traditional Music at Indiana University Bloomington.
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In April 2023, I travelled to Indiana University Bloomington to spend two weeks in the archives. I was funded by the Institute for Advanced Studies at Indiana University to undertake a Repository Research Fellowship at the Archives of Traditional Music – an archive dedicated to the collection of audio-visual material. The archive holds over 110,000 recordings of music and other cultural forms from across the globe, including songs, music, interviews, folktales, and linguistics, as well as accompanying documentation. I spent my fellowship exploring one collection; a set of sound recordings collected by African American linguist Lorenzo Dow Turner on the Sea Islands of South Carolina and Georgia. In 1932 and 1933 Turner travelled to this region to survey the Gullah dialect and published the first ‘academic’ survey of this dialect in 1949. Gullah is a form of creolised English spoken on the Sea Islands and mainland coast of Georgia and South Carolina, with roots in African languages evident in the vocabulary and grammar. Refuting previous claims that Gullah was simply a less developed version of the English language, Turner showed that the Gullah people had retained African elements in their language and culture, including music and dance. The Archive of Traditional Music holds 154 of Turner’s Gullah recordings, as well as later recordings from field trips to Brazil, the Caribbean and West Africa.

Image of the Front of a book by Margaret Wade-Lewis on Lorenzo Dow Turner
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Turner recorded inhabitants of the Sea Islands discussing their lives, including some elderly men and women who had been enslaved on the islands. I was interested in listening to these recordings as part of my current book project that explores the emotional lives, experiences, and memories of enslaved and formerly enslaved people in the U.S. South. My book considers how enslaved people discussed their emotional lives in different forms of testimony, including nineteenth century slave narratives, letters written by the enslaved, 1930s era textual interviews and recorded interviews. Turner’s recordings allow me to analyse how formerly enslaved people, in the 1930s, remembered, felt, and discussed their emotional lives whilst in bondage. Whilst at the archive, for example, I listened to formerly enslaved woman Katy Brown speaking to Turner on July 29, 1933. Brown had always lived on Sapelo Island, Georgia, and discussed her experiences as a child during the Civil War. Brown explained to Turner that before the Union Army advanced, her enslavers moved all ‘the people’ (the enslaved) over to the mainland and that they were forced to move countless times over the next few years. She then described the different emotions she had when she finally encountered the Union army. Explaining that they were glad to see the advancing army, she noted that it was ‘also bad’ because food was scarce – the army killed most of the local livestock to take back to the camp.  She also recounted the enslaved peoples’ excitement on hearing the news that the Yankees had advanced to Sapelo Island.[1]

Historians of US slavery, particularly those focusing on women’s experiences, are constrained by the fact that enslaved testimony is relatively rare. Whilst we do have access to abolition era slave narratives and written interviews with formerly enslaved people, these are all textual documents. We also encounter the enslaved in sources produced by enslavers, such as diaries, letters, and plantation records. In these white sources, the enslaved are dehumanised – they are only mentioned alongside their monetary value or as part of a business transaction. In contrast, Turner’s interviewees used the rare opportunity to tell their own story, and thus provides us with a chance to hear a formerly enslaved person discuss their experiences, memories, and feelings in an environment where they were comfortable enough to testify to slavery’s abuses. During my time in the archive, I also listened to formerly enslaved people discuss their relentless forced labour, the punishments they endured, and the forms of resistance they undertook, including running away and attending illicit night-time prayer meetings. Alongside analysing how the informants described their feelings in relation to these events, when developing our methodologies as researchers, it is also important that we consider our own encounter with the archive. As a historian of emotion, I am acutely aware that when I heard Katy Brown discussing her experiences, in contrast to simply reading her testimony, I had a different affective response. These recordings are infused with an affective power for the listener that written testimonies do not have.

While the primary reason for my trip to the US was to undertake this archival research, I was also able to talk to the wonderful archivists at the Archives of Traditional Music about my work; discuss longer-term projects with the Institute of Advanced Studies; connect with members of history faculty at IU; and go to some thought-provoking events about how we may use scant archives to re-imagine the lives of historical actors. Archival trips to the US are not just about the archives – they allow me to engage with people, arguments, and culture beyond the UK.

[1] Katy Brown, ‘Slavery Days’, interviewed by Lorenzo Dow Turner July 29, 1933. 12-3273: part 1, United States, Sea Islands, Gullah, 1932-33 Lorenzo Dow Turner Collection, Archives of Traditional Music. Available:

Dr Beth Wilson is a British Academy Postdoctoral Fellow at the University of Reading, specialising in emotional experiences and memories of enslaved and formerly enslaved women in the 19th and early 20th centuries.

All comments and opinions presented in this article are that of the author.

We have made every effort to abide by UK copyright law but in the instance of any mislabelling of images, please contact the author of the blog post

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Into the Archives: South Carolina, by Prof Emily West

In April 2023 I visited South Carolina to undertake archival research. This trip would not have been possible without a British Academy/Leverhulme Small Grant, and I am grateful to them for funding this trip.

I first visited South Carolina during my PhD research in the mid 1990s, and while I have been on a few subsequent visits to the state for short research trips and conferences, I’d not had the opportunity to undertake sustained archival research for a generation. Raising two children made any substantial trips abroad impossible. Luckily most of my post PhD research has been via electronically-available primary sources accessible within the UK. This technology has undoubtedly changed the world of history, opening up a whole range of documents to international researchers, especially those digitized by wealthy institutions receptive to technological change.

Yet I also believe that it is so important to conduct research in situ. We cannot ever truly understand the history of a place without spending time there and immersing ourselves in that culture. Of course, this comes with its own set of issues, not least the financial hurdles one has to overcome in order to research abroad.

Thanks to my external funding I finally found myself back in Columbia, the capital of South Carolina, and I was very much looking forward to spending my time in the beautiful South Caroliniana library (the name refers to all things Carolinian) located in the majestic ‘horseshoe’ square of the University of South Carolina, thankfully spared Sherman’s forces during the Civil War, unlike much of the city:

Image of South Caroliniana library at the University of South Carolina. A large building with 4 white pillars at the front and large trees in front of it.

Sadly, however, the building was closed for a major renovation project, the archives temporarily moved to the main Thomas Cooper University Library, also beautiful (I’m a fan of mid-century modern!), although much more contemporary:

Image of the Thomas Cooper University Library with steps walking up to it

Thomas Cooper, an American politician born in London 1759, held enslaved people, did many prominent men in the State, and I devoted my visit here to enslavers records, seeking to examine the ways in which enslavers sought to impost communal, ‘efficient’ feeding regimes on their plantations, focussing on the women who fed other enslaved infants, children, and adults.

The second part of my trip involved a visit to the even more beautiful environs of Charleston, a port city in the lowcountry, famed for its unique Gullah culture. Here I worked in the College of Charleston’s Addlestone (named after Marlene and Nathan Addlestone, prominent in Charleston’s twentieth-century Jewish community) Library’s Special Collections Department, exploring materials from the South Carolina Historical Society:

Photograph of the entrance to the College of Charleston's Addleston Library, South Carolina Historical Society Archives

Most of the evidence I consulted here consisted of postbellum (after the Civil War of 1861-65) reminiscences by former enslavers, and thankfully the majority of these were typed, although the content remains challenging to read because of racist content.

Obviously, with enslaved people being forbidden by state laws from reading and writing, my research is plagued by what historians have termed archival silences. Gendered, racial and class discrimination means that my topics tend to go unindexed. And this can lead to frustrating days of scrolling through nineteenth century, hard to read prose while finding nothing. My eyes are weaker than they were in the 1990s, despite a selection of glasses to choose from! I have to read my sources (when I can find them) laterally, whether ‘against the grain’ or ‘along the bias grain’ as some historians have written. This means when I find useful evidence I tend to inadvertently shout ‘yes’ and raise my arms on the air, much to the alarm of the archivists and genealogists surrounding me.

While my trip had some inevitable frustrations, it was rewarding to obtain more information about the eating regimes imposed by enslavers and the women they utilised to feed the enslaved within plantation quarters. I also supplemented my ongoing research into wetnursing in the pre-Civil War South, which will also form part of my book.

Sometimes, too, evidence from the past can really strike at your heart. Although not directly related to my book project, I was struck by the testimony of a woman, Mrs Carrie Laurens/Lawrence (the spelling varies) who had, in 1928, written a letter to a member of the Ball family who had previously enslaved her. Mrs Laurens/Lawrence asked for financial help as she was unwell — there is surely a future research project to be had in these individual requests for what is essentially reparations for slavery?

While I couldn’t find a record of any outcome to this letter, in 1934 another member of the Ball family interviewed Mrs Laurens/Lawrence about her memories of being enslaved. She remembered how her mother had a disagreement with their white ‘mistress’ (the term used for enslavers’ wives) after which Carrie and her mother fled the household. One of her extended family members (also enslaved and a cook for the Ball family), subsequently hid her and her mother for two weeks two weeks in the cellar of her enslaver’s house at the Southwest corner of Vanderhorst and Pitt Street in Charleston.

Looking up the location I saw this junction was just two blocks from the library. So, I visited during my lunch break. It was hard to tell whether the house at the junction was the original one, and what the exact location of ‘Southwest’ was. I suspect Carrie and her mother hid in this house:

But opposite was an even grander home, more archetypal of the homes of Charleston’s enslavers (nearly all built ‘sideways’ because city authorities taxed Charleston’s homes on their frontage):

Whichever dark and damp cellar Carrie hid in she presumably felt scared and afraid for her future (indeed she was later sold with her mother). It was an honour to try to retrace her whereabouts, to piece together part of her life journey, to imagine how she must have felt, and to reflect on her experiences. The everyday lives of enslaved girls and women appear all too infrequently in Charleston’s public history. Plaques everywhere commemorate enslavers and Confederates, and in the city museum, one can even buy a tapestry kit of the house owned by the Manigaults, one of the state’s richest slaveholding families (with apologies for the poor-quality photo!):

Carrie Laurens/Lawrence’s life will no doubt remain plaque free, but I felt grateful to be in Charleston and, in writing up my book, to contribute to a rather different version of history.

Prof Emily West is a Professor of History at the University of Reading, specialising in race and gender during Slavery in the US South.

All comments and opinions presented in this article are that of the author.

We have made every effort to abide by UK copyright law but in the instance of any mislabelling of images, please contact the author of the blog post

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#EurovisionRdgHis nominations 2023

Throughout the month run-up to the Eurovision 2023 final, held in Liverpool, the History Department has been sharing its favourite Eurovision entries of the past. All those who were nominated, along with their reason for nomination are below.

1967: Sandie Shaw – Puppet on a String (UK)

Our oldest nomination, this song is one from the wonderful world of classic Eurovision

Prof David Stack – Surely that has to be Sandie Shaw, ‘Puppet on a String’ – what other Eurovision winner could go on to collaborate with The Smiths?

1974: ABBA – Waterloo (Sweden)

Nominated not by one, but two of the History department, ABBA’s ‘Waterloo’ came first in our public votes, and was nominated by:

Prof Rebecca Rist – Has to be one of the Abba entries. Mind you I am torn because my popes would have regarded Eurovision as pure debauchery and put everyone involved in one of Dante’s Seven Circles of Hell. Not sure which one.

Graham Moore – I’m basic, I think I’d go for ABBA and ‘Waterloo’.

1976: Brotherhood of Man – Save your kisses for me (UK)

After being nominates twice, this song only received one public vote, despite winning the contest for the UK in 1976. This is why it was nominated:

Fiona Lane – Horrors of a 70s/80s childhood. Everyone sang it, it was played everywhere you went…and it won.

Dr Jacqui Turner – I am so sorry – I loathe Eurovision with a passion!!! I am aware making such a statement is tantamount to asking to be cancelled!!!!
If I was forced to choose one though it would be ‘Save Your Kisses for Me’, Brotherhood of Man, 1976.  Not because I love the song but because, like many Eurovision songs, it is so evocative of a time in my life – taking the old 11+ exam in the sweltering heat and starting senior school after a very long hot summer.

Eastern Bloc Intervision Song Contest

An interesting nomination here that showed a very different song contest held in the Eastern Bloc between 1965 and 1968, and was revived between 1977 and 1980.

Prof Matt Worley – I’m afraid I grew up with the Eastern Bloc Intervision Song Contest so I pick this…

1983: Nena – 99 luftballons (West Germany)

Coming third in our public vote, Nena’s 99 luftballons was nominated by only one member of staff, despite being a popular hit:

Prof Emily West – 99 luftballons! Didn’t realise at the time it was all about the Cold War… It was later recorded in English for Top of the Pops!

1996: Father Ted – My Lovely Horse (Ireland parody)

Our only parody nomination, but an honourable one at that!

Prof David Stack – But an honourable mention for Father Ted and ‘My Lovely Horse’!

2006: Lordi – Hard Rock Hallelujah (Finland)

Surprisingly the only hard rock Eurovision song to be nominated, but definitely one that sticks in the memory:

Dr Ben Bland – I’ll go for this chiefly because it manages to be even sillier than the usual Europop winners. On a more niche note, it briefly allowed teenage me to maintain the illusion that this harmless fare was the sort of thing I meant when I said I listened to “extreme metal”, an illusion shattered when (much to her horror) my mum found across all my Darkthrone and Napalm Death records. 

2007: Verka Serduchka – Dansing Lasha Tumbai (Ukraine)

Coming a very close second in the public votes, this perfectly Eurovision song has become a classic, and Verka Serduchka is performing at this year’s Eurovision too!

Caroline Johnson – Totally Eurovision and very catchy.

2012: Loreen – Euphoria (Sweden)

Performing again this year with their new song ‘Tattoo’, Loreen was nominated for their wonderful song, and the remix too!

Christos Giannatos – I’ll go Euphoria by Loreen from 2012. Such a good song; also, has a House Remix which is FIRE!

2015: Genealogy – Face the Shadow (Armenia)

A poignant nomination here, with a lot of historical significance.

Dr Jeremy Burchardt – Group made up of Armenians from five continents. The aim was to raise awareness of the Armenian genocide in 1915-17. That would be my choice

2021: Destiny – Je me casse (Malta)

The first of two nominations from 2021 from a island that neighbours the winners that year.

Amy Longmuir – Such a catchy and angry song to blare out in the car when you need a pick up

2021: Måneskin – Zitti E Buoni (Italy)

The 2021 winners of Eurovision round off our collection of nominations from our department.

Abbie Tibbott – Their cover of ‘Beggin’ from 2021 is on my Spotify rewind and On Repeat, so it’s only right to nominate them.

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The United Kingdom and Eurovision: A History of Ambivalence?, by Dr Ben Bland

It’s perhaps an understatement to say that the United Kingdom has a slightly more complex relationship with the Eurovision Song Contest than many of the other competitor nations. The UK is one of the so-called “Big Five”: the five countries – also including France, Germany, Italy, and Spain – who provide so much funding for the competition that they automatically qualify for the final. The UK missed two of the first three contests (1956 and 1958) but has since appeared in every single final (a run no other country can match) and has won the contest five times (in 1967, 1969, 1976, 1981, and 1997). Only Ireland and Sweden have won more often (with France, Luxembourg, and the Netherlands matching the UK’s victory tally). It has also hosted the contest a record eight times (in 1960, 1963, 1968, 1972, 1974, 1977, 1982, and 1998), even before this year’s event kicks off in Liverpool. Whilst London hosted on four of these occasions, the contest has also been held in Birmingham, Brighton, Edinburgh, and (rather more surprisingly) the well-to-do North Yorkshire spa town of Harrogate. When it became clear that Russia’s war in Ukraine would make it impossible for last year’s winners to host this May, the UK (as 2022 runners-up) was swift to step in despite the multi-million-pound cost. Such a lengthy history of financial and cultural participation in Eurovision might make it seem as if the UK takes Eurovision uniquely seriously – but anyone who has tuned in to watch country after country award the UK nul points in recent years knows that this does not tell the whole story. 

Surveying media coverage of Eurovision over the last sixty-five years makes it clear that hostility has often been a key feature of UK attitudes towards the contest. When the BBC first launched a webpage for its Eurovision coverage, back in May 1999, one Observer writer praised the corporation’s move as ‘a great step forward for humanity, for it means that the BBC can now gracefully abandon the telecast and put on something really classy and up to date. Dad’s Army, for instance’.[1] Similarly sneering and dismissive views were also being aired way back in the contest’s early days, when those who were hostile to the idea of greater involvement in Europe cited the contest as indicative of a continental cultural malaise – one that UK viewers were increasingly subjected to thanks to increased BBC access to European programming (through the European Broadcasting Union, often confusingly referred to in the 1950s and 1960s as “Eurovision”). In 1959, for instance, Daily Mail television critic Peter Black sneered that the contest ‘was scarcely worthy of the trouble’ and that it was ‘like opening the Eurovision network to show an international knobbly knees contest’.[2] It’s worth emphasising, however, that the worst of the UK commentariat’s Eurovision ire has often been saved for the UK’s own contestants. ‘One would have to be a very odd patriot – I don’t believe even an Empire Loyalist could manage it – to get a sensation of pride and glory out of this success’, Black wrote of Pearl Carr and Teddy Johnson’s “Sing Little Birdie”, which achieved a second-place finish in 1959.[3] A little over twenty years later the same paper savaged UK Eurovision victors Bucks Fizz for their ‘antiseptic and thoroughly sanitised’ music and performance.[4] In the build-up to the 1995 final, meanwhile, writer and lecturer Andy Medhurst expressed amazement in the pages of the Observer because ‘the unthinkable [had] happened’: the UK would ‘be represented by a good song’.[5] It is fair to point out that the UK has had some spectacularly unremarkable entries over the years (some are included in the playlist below) as well as a few absolute disasters (I’m afraid we’re looking at you, Daz Sampson) but what regularly competing nation hasn’t?

Selected UK Eurovision Entries Playlist. Available at:

By the turn of the century, barely concealed distaste for Eurovision had increasingly turned into genuine scepticism as to the UK’s future participation. This was boosted by an increased sense that UK viewers were largely ambivalent about the competition. Only around six million viewers had watched the 2000 contest in the UK (less than half of those who had watched BBC coverage at some junctures in the past) and a mere 45,000 people had voted for Sheffield schoolgirl Lindsay Dracass to be the 2001 UK contestant. This, compared to the million-plus people who were participating in reality TV votes for shows such as Big Brother at the time, seemed paltry.[6] Trevor Dann, the former head of BBC Music Entertainment, was quoted in The Times decrying continued participation as a waste of resources: ‘I can’t see any value in it at all anymore. The BBC puts it on because of nostalgia over Terry Wogan’s role’. He also acknowledged that there may be some geopolitical concerns: ‘nobody wants to be seen to axe it’, Dann claimed, with reference to Eurovision’s place as a symbol of postwar European cultural cooperation.[7] This sentiment has hung around over the following two decades, despite the odd spike in the viewing figures. It has often been accompanied by assertions either that the UK does not take Eurovision seriously enough or – more interestingly – that it doesn’t understand the dynamics of the competition. In 2021, following James Newman’s last place, nul points finish, the Guardian’s Helen Pidd argued that his unflashy style made him ‘Exactly what you do not need to be to win the silliest singing competition in the world’.[8] This attitude, of course, also betrays the same sense of cultural superiority that has been such a marked feature of the UK’s coverage of Eurovision. We all know that, on one level, Eurovision is very silly, but then it doesn’t exactly pretend to be Glastonbury or the Last Night of the Proms.

The above snapshots are, of course, just that: snapshots. They don’t tell the full story of the UK in Eurovision, a story that feels conspicuously under-written given the tensions between Britishness and Europeanness that have ebbed and flowed over the near seven-decade history of the competition. They do, however, demonstrate that the UK has always been a little uncomfortable accepting Eurovision as part of its cultural identity. It’s hard to tell whether so many in the UK continue to love Eurovision in spite or because of the cultural disconnect that it is often taken to symbolise. As excitement builds ahead of the contest’s imminent return to UK shores, we may all want to reflect on how difficult it is to imagine a future in which the UK doesn’t take part in Eurovision – not to mention one in which it doesn’t complain about having to do so. 

[1] John Naughton, “Vapid, vacuous drivel – hurrah for the Eurovision”, Observer, 23 May 1999, 94.

[2] Peter Black, “Peter Black’s Teleview”, Daily Mail, 12 March 1959, 16.

[3] Ibid. The term ‘Empire Loyalist’ refers to the League of Empire Loyalists, a far right anti-decolonisation pressure group that later fed into the National Front.

[4] Simon Kinnersley, “The second-hand sounds”, Daily Mail, 11 June 1981, 22.

[5] Andy Medhurst, “Taste and style: nul points”, Observer, 7 May 1995, C6. 

[6] Paul McCann, “Eurovision contest faces its Waterloo”, The Times, 12 May 2001, 3.

[7] Quoted in Ibid.  

[8] Helen Pidd, “Nul points again: how exactly can the UK win Eurovision?”, Guardian, 23 May 2021,

Dr Ben Bland is a Leverhume Postdoctoral Research Fellow at the University of Reading, specialising in modern British music, youth, and racialisation within the urban.

All comments and opinions presented in this article are that of the author.

We have made every effort to abide by UK copyright law but in the instance of any mislabelling of images, please contact the author of the blog post

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Teaching Excellence in the History Department at the University of Reading 2023

We are very privileged to have so many of our teaching staff recognised by students through Reading University Students’ Union’s Excellence Awards. This year, six of our staff (including two PhD students) have been nominated! Here is what they say about their teaching styles and their experiences of teaching this year…

Graham Moore

For me, the most important thing is to equip our students with analytical and critical thinking skills they can use, not only for historical inquiry but in all aspects of their life. A successful seminar is one that encourages everyone in the room – myself included! – to see things from a new angle. 

The modules I’ve taught on over the past two years [JH2, RSO, Pirates of the Caribbean] have given me the flexibility to bring in materials and techniques from my own research (including pirate trial records and network modelling activities). This keeps things fresh and exciting for the students, allowing the class to make collaborative discoveries using the skills we equip them with.

I’ve been lucky to teach in such a welcoming department here at Reading, and to work with a cohort of intelligent, enthusiastic, and curious students. 

Abbie Tibbott

I’d say my teaching style is based around the fact that all students come to university with different backgrounds and personal circumstances, and I do my best to recognise that within my teaching and celebrate that students all come to university with different reasons for being there. I wouldn’t be at university without widening participation schemes, so my teaching treats students as individuals with valuable contributions to add to our community! My favourite teaching experience this year has been seeing my part 1 students become more confident and design some really fascinating independent research projects. 

Prof Patrick Major

It could just be that I know a lot about Cold War Berlin, or that I encouraged first-years to get visual with Doomsday Dystopias and positively ordered the gameboys to binge-play Fallout 4.0. Who knows?

Dr Jacqui Turner

I feel very privileged that my teaching and research has an impact on my students. I hope that the determination and perseverance of the women who we encounter during my teaching inspire women today to pursue their dreams – to have it all if that is what they choose to do because to have your voice heard, to have opportunity and choice is everything in life.

Dr Liz Barnes

The main thing that I’m aware of when I’m teaching is that we have to cater to such a wide range of student expectations, interests, and ways of learning. I know that, particularly for first year students, seminars can be a daunting space to enter, so I’ve been working on maintaining elements of routine – a strategy informed by discussions with school teachers (who we don’t collaborate with as much as we should!). I like students to know what they’re getting when they come to my sessions – I generally set out what we’re going to cover, what I’ll be doing vs. what they’ll be doing, and how their prep work will come into play. There are definitely stock phrases I find myself employing, and I always start discussions of readings with the same question (I’m sure all my students are sick of me asking if they liked the set texts…). That leaves space to mix things up with activities to keep sessions engaging without each week feeling like a new mountain to climb. It’s basic stuff, but the basics are what we can easily let slide. I’m looking forward to trying out more new things next year – and hopefully with a new group of students who are as tolerant of my experiments!

Dr Amie Bolissian

I am absolutely thrilled to be nominated for a teaching award, and definitely share this with my amazing students who dived into our wildly varied activities this year: be it dueling with swords and ladles, or writing with quill and ink. I love using historical objects in my lessons alongside written sources: they can truly broaden our understandings of why, where, and how sources were produced, as well as who made them. They can provoke curious questions – like how did early modern people write in such tiny script with feather quills? And what made an object magical or medical? My favourite thing about teaching is hearing questions from students – questions are encouraged at all times in my classes. Also, making and doing in the learning environment can bring us closer to the sources. Examining handwritten medicinal recipes from the seventeenth century is one thing, attempting to write our own with a feather quill and home-made oak gall ink demonstrates the labour involved in creating these sources, and perhaps partly explains why these collections were so valued and passed down through generations. We also wrote our own early modern ‘health’ book titles pages (using as many clauses as possible) and prescribed internal and topical remedies for actual medical cases from doctors’ casebooks

My two modules were: Melancholy Medicine: Healing the Body and Mind in Early Modern England, 1570-1730 and ‘Broken-Hearted’: Medicine, Emotion, and the Body in Early Modern England, 1570-1730.

We are very excited to see the results of the nominations – watch this space!

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