AS ANYONE W HO H AS swabbed decks and gone aloft knows, reenactment is fun. It indulges the twin passions of work and play, which are generally divorced from each other. It licenses dressing up, pretending and improvising, casting oneself as the protagonist of one's own research, and getting others to play along. Of course, it also calls for discomfort and enforced self-growth. But, like the cold nose atop the counterpane, which Melville says measures the warmth of the bed, the pain only sharpens the pleasure. 1 Iain McCalman's piece in this issue, "The Little Ship of Horrors," shows that suffering also makes for a better story. Perhaps because of this winning combination of imaginative play, self-improvement, intellectual enrichment, and sociality, reenactment is booming. History enthusi- asts gather weekly to enact past events, television history programs are aired to good ratings, living museums hire costumed performers, civic governments sponsor local performances on historical themes, tourists "follow in the steps" of earlier travelers, and academics venture into public history. Reenactment thus spans diverse history-themed genres—from theatrical and "living history" per- formances to museum exhibits, television, film, travelogues, and historiography. While there are important differences between these genres and their respective practitioners, they are linked by common methodologies, modes of representa- tion, and choice of subject matter. They are also linked by their combined use of different medial forms and the breakdown of traditionally distinct categories such as academic historian and television personality, weekend reenactor and historical adviser. 2 In its appropriation of the past, this populist phenomenon favors high-concept themes—Vikings, medieval knights, pyramid builders, pirates and mutineers, cowboys and Indians, explorers, slaves, pilgrims, and sol- diers. Reenactment now includes less gaudy subjects, such as the 1984 South Yorkshire miners' strike, yet the phenomenon remains overwhelmingly commit- ted to themes that are the perennial favorites of grade-school history. The thrall of reenactment cannot be attributed merely to an interest in colorful, familiar his- tory. Rather, its excursions are justified on political grounds; it is argued that "history from below" provides an important public service and gives voice to
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