Thomas Fleming

Abstract

March/April 2008 Historically Speaking 11 no discernible dividing line between diem. And the future is only the past that hasn't yet happened. Historians ' terrain makes the only useful launching pad for predictions, the only context for informed comment on what is happening now. Don't hang up when the news media call. Don't despise colleagues who exhibit themselves in the media: they're promoting all of us. Second, we should honor the only obligation of the writer in any genre and any discipline: write well. Language is a bright weapon, to be wielded freely. Historians need to be sensitive to words, if they are going to read documents aright. That sensitivity should make their prose gleam with the power of evocation and allusion, imagery and subdety. If we banish redundant terms, ill-chosen words, awkward phrases, dull sentences, and ill-crafted paragraphs, we will reach readers. Third, we should broaden our thinking. All history should be total history—sifting and stacking every kind of evidence, including postholes and bones, analogies and etymologies, bric-à-brac and objets d'art, literature and architecture. All history should be environmental history, because humans are inseparable from the ecosystems in which they live. And all history should be global history. If you Eve on this planet, you should be interested in the world. And even if your work is on pumpernickel production in selected villages in heatiiland environments in upper Westphalia in 873-74 with special reference to rainy weather, we all want to know the comparisons and connections that make your subject a vital part of our world. Finally, we must be welcoming. If we could turn history into a defensive trench, it would not be worth inhabiting: it would be full of detritus and rats. Some university departments already are. History's virtue is to be accessible. Accessibility is good. Our welcome should embrace amateurs who embrace scholarship and historians whose vocation is for teaching rather than research. It should also include scholars in other disciplines. Because every discipline has a history , and because historians, if they are truly to be historians, must know something about everything, our departments should burst with adjuncts and our curricula should be rich and thick with cross-listings. Felipe Fernánde^Armesto is Prince of Asturias Professor of History at Tufts University andprofessorof globalenvironmentalstudies atQueen Mary, University of London. His most recent book is Amerigo: The Man Who Gave His Name to America (Random House, 2007). Thomas Fleming Adam Hochschild is right. There is a gap between so-called "popular" historians and the academy. But it is not quite as wide as he seems to think. This year I was named president of die Society of American Historians (SAH), which was founded by Allan Nevins in 1 939 to encourage good writing and good scholarship in the historical profession. With membership limited to 250, the SAH continues to flourish. Distinguished historians from the academy such as Mary Beth Norton, David Kennedy, and Eric Foner work harmoniously with professional writers such as Nicholas Lemann, Geoffrey Ward, and David McCullough. Everyone is voted into the organization on the basis of his or her books. Nothing else gets you in. The SAH devotes not a little time to trying to bridge the gap between history and literature by giving annual awards for the best doctoral dissertation (the Allan Nevins Prize) and the best nonfiction book (the Parkman Prize). Some years ago I persuaded them to add a biennial award for the best historical novel (the James Fenimore Cooper Prize.) Starting this year, the SAH will also give a lifetime achievement award (the Arthur Schlesinger, Jr. Prize). It will be funded by die Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt Institute. In the SAH we don't like the term "popular history ." It is frequendy used in a derogatory, put-down way. It also suggests diat only bestselling history books are worthy of note. We all know dozens of books diat a better review or a different publication date might have made more salable. I recall asking Alfred Knopf which was more important in a writer's life, talent or luck. He resoundingly replied: "Luck!" There are many ways to write...