Year: 2007
Type: article
Abstract: We attain the very essence and underlying reality of rubbish in a packet of yellow loveletters.Whether we read them or not matters little.They are the sacred writings, the civilizing scriptures of mankind. Michael Field "A Lumber-Room"ON a cold morning in early 1999, I suffered my own personal experience of what has come to be known as Archive Fever. 1 I was in New York to read the Pierpont Morgan Library's small collection of letters exchanged between Katharine Harris Bradley and Edith Emma Cooper (1862-1913): aunt and niece, lifelong lovers, and the collaborative writers known as "Michael Field."In the best tradition of postgraduate research, I slept poorly on a floor with a cat determined to avenge my exploitation of a tenuous acquaintance with its owners.At the library, a polite librarian told me they held no such letters.I had, I assured her, photocopies at hand; but she would only take my contact number and promise to investigate.I walked away in despair.I had only four days left in the United
Source: Lifewriting annual
DOI: 10.16995/la.9464
Author: Sharon Bickle
Language: English
Subfield: Literature and Literary Theory
Field: Arts and Humanities
Domain: Social Sciences
Open Access status: hybrid
OpenAlex ID: W4959253