Before stating the aims and purposes of her new book Jordanova explains, with refreshing candour, what it is not about. She is not primarily concerned here with the philosophy of history, examining the nature of arguments, of the use of concepts, theories and historical evidence; nor is she writing a handbook laying down the law and pontificating how her readers can become better historians, to research more effectively, or how to improve their chances of being published. Above all, she is not presenting a history of history, or even advancing reasons how or why the writing of history has changed over the centuries. So, what then, is her intention? In fact, at first sight, the positives are more simple and more direct than the negatives. Her purpose is to convey a sense of the issues involved in the discipline of history, to place it in a wider context, and to outline what historians actually do and why they do it. And although she is reluctant to prescribe what historians ought to do, she does not shy away from distinguishing, or discriminating between “good” and “bad” history, an endeavour she believes to be both possible and essential.
First, Jordanova tackles the infrastructure of history, the training and education of historians, their professional organisations, their sources of publication, with an evaluation of scholarly and popular best‐selling histories, textbook publishing, the huge diversity of historical journals, and brief but highly cogent remarks on research. “One implication of the term ‘research’ is the discovery of fresh material and novel insights. Originality is supposed to be an important element. Yet it is often unclear to what extent research is original, given the huge amount of history being written in so many different places”. She is equally forceful and wide‐ranging in “Mapping the discipline of history”, enquiring into its dimensions; investigating its basic materials and the pitfalls inherent in the concept of primary and secondary sources; noting history’s peculiar ability to ally itself to a host of other disciplines, and the various theoretical, geographical, and thematic approaches that are possible. Next comes an expansion on the relations between various historical disciplines and other modern academic disciplines, notably sociology, anthropology and culture, philosophy, and literary history and criticism. “The status of historical knowledge” encompasses history’s authority, its truth and reliability, its standards and quality, its interpretation of sources, the validity of conceptual frameworks, and the quality of writing employed. A valuable commentary on “Periodisation” follows: examining how the past is divided up, the ease with which it is represented in conventional and convenient periods, the naming of long stretches of time after ruling houses and, for shorter periods, after dictatorial regimes, the propensity to divide history into eras and ages and, in modern times, by the adoption of “isms”.
In “Public history”, a term more prevalent in the USA, Jordanova explores the role and functions of museum collections, art galleries, record offices, stately homes, war memorials, and historical theme parks, all of which evoke the historical memory, and all of which bring a strong influence to the public perception of history. Two powerful sections, “Who owns the past?” and “Moral judgements”, end the discussion of public history. Should the terrible events of the twentieth century, the Holocaust and the dropping of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki be remembered in order to avoid repeating such horrors, and to arrive at clear and indivisible moral standpoints? Are subsequent apologies, many years later, compensation and the prosecution of war criminals appropriate? “Not all accounts of the horrors of the 1930s and 1940s are equally authoritative” (shades of the recent Irving libel action!). Less polemic in nature, Jordanova’s final chapter, “Historian’s skills”, reviews what these are, or should be, namely technical, source‐based, and interpretative. And also the cult of the archive, where historians cut their teeth, identify with the raw material, and pitch their claims to originality. “The archive implies a kind of intimacy with particular aspects of the past that are more personal, individual, private, and hence worth looking at precisely because they concern real life … the archive further implies materials not looked at by anyone else or only by a few ‐ the very idea nurtures historians’ fantasies about their privileged access to the past”.
As befits such a curious personal work, almost emotional in places, the author ends with a postscript on history’s future, sharing her “close to the heart” philosophy of history: what counts as successful history depends “… on the context in which it is judged, and the most helpful way of thinking about such matters is in terms of trust, not truth”. While congratulating the author in writing an intensely gripping narrative, fully achieving her declared aims, and applauding the way she bares her professional soul, her book, while not really suitable for the reference library, unquestionably belongs in all academic library collections. Adventurous public librarians, willing to lift their eyes higher than issue figures, the state of the book fund, or the need to keep councillors bent on community libraries in the furthermost suburbs happy, should also have no hesitation in ordering a copy.
