Have you ever read something for a specific research purpose, in the routine of study, which suddenly carved you up and reordered your entire being? That happened to me around December 2007. I remember the evening vividly, because my reading was interrupted a few times by my walk to and from the laundry room, as though it were calculated to give me ten minutes of gloomy quiet to absorb it all. I disagreed profoundly, but the way it teased my core beliefs was compelling. And, over time, I came under the spell of the American philosopher Richard Rorty.
I found out much later that he had died from pancreatic cancer, aged 75, only a few months before my first encounter, just over ten years ago today – a trivial coincidence that I’ve dressed in significance. I was unaccountably sad at the thought of that particular brain turning cold. Shortly before his death he wrote an essay about his diagnosis and disease (‘The Fire of Life’), in which he admitted that ‘neither the philosophy I had written nor that which I had read seemed to have any particular bearing on my situation’. These words gave me pause, as I had been deeply affected by his philosophical writings on life and death. This last characteristic shrug of indifference toward his own thought left me unsettled – he had given me some comfort, at least. Continue reading
The outbreak of social protest in 1830 has been recognised by a number of scholars as the spark for the national movement for allotments. Embittered and hungry labourers destroyed agricultural machinery and set fire to haystacks in what is known as the Swing riots and links the organised allotment movement to political protest. The allocation of allotments (strips of land rented to labourers at market rates year-round) was not simply an attempt by elite landowners to buy off labourers and avert further rioting, it was also hoped that the commitment required to develop a flourishing allotment would instil several favourable virtues in the rural poor including self-respect, independence, industriousness, sobriety, thrift, and honesty. 
As might be expected from a blog post entitled “Diversions”, written for an online journal aimed primarily at PhD students, this one starts by stirring up images of articles left half-finished and monographs lying shut upon a desk, their unturned pages crying softly through their unbent spines to be read. Pressing as it may be for the contents of these no doubt worthy sources to be imbibed by their, you guessed it, distracted reader, he has far more diverting things with which to occupy his time than concerning himself with reading a Marxist critique of this, a Freudian analysis of that. From a dust jacket, a certain pessimistic German theorist from the last century stares out towards the unoccupied chair in which a diligent young researcher should be sitting, his disapproving gaze threatening to burn a hole in the upholstery. But enough context, it’s time to come to the point of this post. 
Individuals who seem fated with misfortune are sometimes described as “star-crossed.” This idiom comes from the belief that earthly phenomena are governed by the positions of celestial objects. The etymology of disaster – a negative position, “dis”, from a star, “astre” – can be traced to this belief. The notion that disasters are unavoidable plays an interesting role in the world today. No longer does the disaster remain limited to the purview of earthquakes, tornadoes, and floods – those things which we have called ‘acts of God’ – but disasters of our own making – nuclear, economic, and environmental. In this upcoming theme, we at Still Point are seeking contributions from masters, doctoral and early career researchers that tackle the topic of DISASTERS, be it political, personal, or academic. Do you reflect on disaster as part of your work? Have you ever had a ‘research disaster’? How does disaster shape the world we live in today?
As a special project in July 2017, the theme for the Still Point blog will be an ‘Open Mic’ dedicated entirely to Undergraduate Research. We are seeking blog posts from Arts and Humanities undergraduate students from London universities that directly engage with research they have conducted – particularly final year students who have undertaken dissertations – in order to actively promote and celebrate the work of undergraduates and aspiring academics. We also welcome submissions from undergraduates based on the experience and process of conducting their research, which can take a variety of forms; including, but not limited to, non-fiction, fiction, poetry, and visual art.
For the last six months, I’ve been training for the London Marathon. I am not what you might call a “natural runner”; running, for me, basically consists of trudging round London at a pace slightly quicker than walking. I might not be that speedy, but I do seem to be able to keep going somehow, and I managed to get around the course on 23rd April in 5:41:21.
This letter is a reproduction of faded scribblings found penciled on a study carrel in the clock tower at Maughan Library.
