Archive for October, 2015

Colloque : “Thérapies dissonantes” (Lausanne, 30 octobre 2015)

Copyright Lisa Mandel, HP2. Crazy Seventies. Paris: L’Association, 2013. Par autorisation de l’auteure, tous droits réservés

Soigner les marges/Soigner en marge
Excentrés et excentriques dans l’histoire des thérapies ‘psy’
Séance 3 : Thérapies dissonantes
Vendredi 30 octobre 2015
IUHMSP, salle de colloque, 82 avenue de Provence, CH-1007 Lausanne
Métro M1, arrêt Malley

La série de journées d’études Soigner les marges/Soigner en marge a pour objectif d’interroger certains à-côtés iconoclastes et en apparence marginaux de l’histoire du soin des troubles psychiques. Il s’agit, autrement dit, d’enquêter sur le non-central, sur les « ex/centrés » et les « ex/centriques » du domaine « psy », un terrain entendu ici au sens large : incluant la triade disciplinaire psychiatrie/psychanalyse/psychologie, mais aussi les psychothérapies et, de façon plus générale, tous les savoirs qui ont prétendu apporter une thérapeutique des maux de l’esprit. Cette problématique générale est abordée au cours de trois séances et selon trois thèmes d’investigation :
1) les patients atypiques (« Patients hors-cadre », 31.10.2014)
2) l’utilisation des rêves en dehors du cadre freudien (« Rêver sans Freud », 29.05.2015)
3) les thérapies non-conventionnelles (« Thérapies dissonantes », 30.10.2015).
Une description plus détaillée du programme de la série de journées d’études « Soigner les marges/soigner en marge » est disponible sur le site de l’IUHMSP : http://www.chuv.ch/iuhmsp

Séance 3 : Thérapies dissonantes – Vendredi 30 octobre 2015
Chaque époque a sa doxa en matière de traitement « psy » : « l’isolement thérapeutique » des asiles du XIXe siècle, par exemple, ou la cure psychanalytique dominante des années 1960-1980, ou encore l’ordinaire prescription de psychotropes de ces dernières décennies. Dans tous les cas, il existe une norme généralement admise de ce qu’il est licite de pratiquer en matière de soin du psychisme et de ce qu’il est légitime, aussi, de financer.
Cette journée d’études s’intéressera à l’autre pôle de l’équation en interrogeant les thérapies qui, pour une raison ou une autre, ont été en leur temps considérées comme hétérodoxes pour traiter des troubles de l’esprit. Art-thérapie, communautés thérapeutiques, thérapies comportementales, thérapies féministes… Quelles ont été les pratiques dissonantes d’hier à aujourd’hui ? Quels principes théoriques les ont sous-tendues ? Et comment négocie-t-on, au sens propre et au figuré, la différence thérapeutique dans l’univers « psy » ?

Programme
9h Ouverture de la journée et accueil des participants
9h30-9h50 Présentation de la journée
Aude Fauvel (IUHMSP, CHUV-UNIL), Rémy Amouroux (Institut de psychologie, Fac. des SSP/UNIL)
Matinée : Président de séance : Nicolas Duruz (UNIL/Institut Universitaire de Psychothérapie, département de Psychiatrie)
9h50-10h30 Catherine Fussinger (IUHMSP, CHUV-UNIL)
Les communautés thérapeutiques : des expériences dans la norme ou dans la marge ? (1950-1970)
10h30-11h10 Rémy Amouroux (Institut de psychologie, Fac. des SSP/UNIL) « Une thérapie sotte pour les sots ». La réception des thérapies comportementales en France (1970-1980)
11h10-11h30 Pause
11h30-12h10 Stéphanie Pache (IUHMSP, CHUV-UNIL)
Convertir la thérapie au féminisme : une histoire professionnelle et politique (États-Unis, 1960-2015)
12h10- 14h Pause déjeuner

Après-midi : Président de séance : Pascal Roman (Institut de psychologie, Fac. des SSP/UNIL)
14h-14h50 Aude Fauvel (IUHMSP, CHUV-UNIL)
Témoigner, rire et guérir. Les journaux asilaires et la pratique de « l’écriture thérapeutique » dans la psychiatrie écossaise du XIXe siècle
14h50-15h30 Olivia Lempen (Institut de Psychologie, UNIL) Thérapies à médiations artistiques – l’écriture au secours de la parole
15h30-16h Caroline Christiansen
Témoignage En clôture de la journée, Caroline Christiansen, auteure d’Avalanche (éd. Parole et silence, 2008), viendra apporter son témoignage sur son expérience de l’univers psychiatrique en tant que patiente et sur sa pratique de l’écriture
Cette journée d’études est organisée conjointement par l’IUHMSP (CHUV-UNIL) et l’Institut de Psychologie (Faculté des SSP/UNIL).

Organisation et renseignements : Rémy Amouroux (Remy.Amouroux@unil.ch), Aude Fauvel (aude.fauvel@chuv.ch)
Cette journée d’études est ouverte à toute personne intéressée.

Call for Papers – Canadian Society for the History and Philosophy of Science

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The Canadian Society for the History and Philosophy of Science (CSHPS) is inviting scholars working on the history or the philosophy of science to submit abstracts for individual papers or proposals for sessions. The Society’s annual conference is part of the Congress of the Humanities and Social Sciences meeting in Calgary, Alberta, and will be held between May 28-30, 2016. The deadline for submitting the abstract is January 15, 2016. For more information, please visit http://www.yorku.ca/cshps1/meeting.html

Conference – Psychiatry in Europe after World War II

 

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30.10.15

10.00 Uhr

Conference Opening/ Begrüßung

Maike Rotzoll, Frank Grüner, Georg Lilienthal, Wolfgang U. Eckart

10.15 Uhr – 11.45 Uhr

I. Section/ Sektion I

Time and Space – German Post-War Psychiatry in its Context/ Zeit und Raum – deutsche Nachkriegspsychiatrie im Kontext

Am Ende? Europa nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg und die Psychiatrie – eine Einführung

Wolfgang U. Eckart (Heidelberg)

Psychiatrie(politik) im Nationalsozialismus und ihre Folgen – ein Überblick

Hans-Walter Schmuhl (Bielefeld)

Nachkriegsprozesse zu den Krankenmorden in Ost und West – ein Überblick bis 1970

Gerrit Hohendorf (München)

12.00 Uhr – 13.30 Uhr

II. Section/ Sektion II

The Occupation Powers and their Psychiatry/ Die Besatzungsmächte und ihre Psychiatrie

Psychiatrische Genetik, Community Psychiatry und Minderheitenpolitik in den USA in den 1940er und 1950er Jahren

Marion Schmidt (Baltimore)

Zur Psychiatrie in der Sowjetunion vom Ende des 2. Weltkriegs bis zum Beginn der 1970er Jahre

Frank Grüner (Heidelberg)

Some Perspectives on Making the Mental Hospital more Therapeutic in Post-War Britain

Duncan Double (Norwich)

Französische Psychiatrie in den 1940er und 1950er Jahren

Christian Bonah/Chantal Marazia (Strasbourg)

14.30 Uhr – 16.00 Uhr

III. Section/ Sektion III

On the Way to ‘Normality’. Asylum Psychiatry in the four German Occupation Zones/ Auf dem Weg zur ‚Normalität‘. Anstaltspsychiatrie in den vier Besatzungszonen

Neuorientierung nach Kriegsende? Das Beispiel der Heil- und Pflegeanstalt Klingenmünster in der französischen Besatzungszone

Maike Rotzoll/ Anna Gardon (Heidelberg)

Das Sterben geht weiter. Die Landesanstalt Großschweidnitz und die SBZ/DDR

Dietmar Schulze (Heidelberg/Leipzig)

Reaktionen auf den Krankenmord in der britischen Besatzungszone. Das Beispiel der Hungeranstalt Wehnen

Ingo Harms (Heidelberg/Oldenburg)

Nach dem Krieg in der amerikanischen Besatzungszone. Die Landesheilanstalt Hadamar, 1945-1955

Ralph Höger/Georg Lilienthal (Heidelberg/Hadamar)

16.30 Uhr – 18.00 Uhr

IV. Section/ Sektion IV

Psychiatry in the Ambit of the Soviet Union/ Psychiatrie im Einflussbereich der Sowjetunion

Sleeping-Therapy and Psychiatry during the Stalinist Pavlov-Campaign at the University of Tartu in 1950s

Ken Kalling/Erki Tammiksaar (Tartu)

Hunger, Death, and Transfer. War Aftermath and German Psychiatric Patients in Bohemia and Moravia, 1945-1947

Michal Šimůnek/Milan Novak (Prag/Kosmanos)

Die Glocken des Kreml gaben den Takt vor. Polnische Psychiatrie in der Stalinzeit)

Tadeusz Nasierowski/Darius Myszka (Warschau)

The Road Not Taken: Forging Mental Health Care in Post-WWII Yugoslavia

Mat Savelli (Hamilton/Ontario)

31.10.2015

09.30 Uhr – 11.00 Uhr

V. Section/ Sektion V

Under the Influence of the Marshall Plan/ Unter Einfluss des Marshall-Planes? Psychiatrie in West- und Nordeuropa

Nicht ohne blinde Flecken. Die Niederlande – Wiederaufbau und Emanzipation des Sektors Psychiatrie“

Cecile aan de Stegge (Bunnik)

Business as usual. Belgische Psychiatrie in den Nachkriegsjahren

Benoît Majerus (Luxemburg)

Norwegian Psychiatry in the Wake of the German Occupation, 1940-1955

Per Haave (Oslo)

Treating the “Untreatable”. Psychiatric Treatments and Danish Psychiatry after World War II

Jesper Kragh Vaczy (Kopenhagen)

11.15 Uhr – 12.45 Uhr

VI. Section/ Sektion VI

Shadows of War. Europe and beyond/ Der Schatten des Krieges. Europa und außerhalb

Der lange Schatten der „Euthanasie“: Psychiatrie in Österreich, ca. 1945 bis 1955

Herwig Czech (Wien)

Italian Psychiatry and the Post-War generation. Franco Basaglia and the Others

John Foot (Bristol)

Psychiatry in Japan after 1945

Akihito Suzuki (Yokohama)

Israeli Psychiatry – the first Decades

Rakefet Zalashik (Philadelphia)

14.00 Uhr – 16.30 Uhr

VII. Section/ Sektion VII

Beyond the Asylum. The Development of Universitary Psychiatry in East and West Germany/ Jenseits der Anstalt. Entwicklungen der deutschen Nachkriegspsychiatrie in Ost und West

Universitätspsychiatrie in Westdeutschland ab 1945

Volker Roelcke (Gießen)

Rebuilding a Society: German Child- and Adolescent Psychiatry, 1945-1955

Sascha Topp/Heiner Fangerau (Köln)

Sturm auf die Festung Wissenschaft? – Universitätspsychiatrie in Ostdeutschland nach 1945

Ekkehardt Kumbier (Rostock)

Psychiatrie ohne Mauer? – Sozialpsychiatrische Austauschprozesse zwischen DDR und Bundesrepublik im Vorfeld der Psychiatriereform

Christof Beyer (Hannover)

Abschlusskommentar und Ausblick

Georg Lilienthal/Maike Rotzoll

New Book: On Hysteria. The Invention of a Medical Category between 1670 & 1820 (Sabine Arnaud)

On Hysteria. The Invention of a Medical Category between 1670 & 1820
Sabine Arnaud

University of Chicago Press
ISBN: 978‐0‐226‐27554‐3

$55.00| 376 pages
These days, hysteria is known as a discredited diagnosis that was used to group and pathologize a wide range of conditions and behaviors in women. But for a long time, it was seen as a legitimate category of medical problem— and one that, originally, was applied to men as often as to women.
In On Hysteria, Sabine Arnaud traces the creation and rise of hysteria, from its invention in the
eighteenth century through nineteenth‐century therapeutic practice. Hysteria took shape, she shows, as a predominantly aristocratic malady, only beginning to cross class boundaries (and be limited to women) during the French Revolution. Unlike most studies of the role and status of medicine and its categories in this period, On Hysteria focuses not on institutions but on narrative strategies and writing—the ways that texts in a wide range of genres helped to build knowledge through misinterpretation and recontextualized citation.

“A rich slice of eighteenth‐century cultural history and a bold methodological intervention into the history of science and medicine.” —Jan Goldstein, author of Hysteria Complicated by Ecstasy

CFP: Medicine and Modernity in the Long Nineteenth Century (St Anne’s College, Oxford, 2016)

CFP: Medicine and Modernity in the Long Nineteenth Century
St Anne’s College, Oxford
10th – 11th September 2016

KEYNOTE SPEAKERS: CHRISTOPHER HAMLIN AND LAURA OTIS

In our current ‘Information Age’ we suffer as never before, it is claimed, from the stresses of an overload of information, and the speed of global networks. The Victorians diagnosed similar problems in the nineteenth century. The medic James Crichton Browne spoke in 1860 of the ‘velocity of thought and action’ now required, and of the stresses imposed on the brain forced to process in a month more information ‘than was required of our grandfathers in the course of a lifetime’. Through this two day interdisciplinary conference, hosted by the ERC funded Diseases of Modern Life project based at Oxford, we will explore the phenomena of stress and overload, and other disorders associated with the problems of modernity in the long nineteenth century, as expressed in the literature, science, and medicine of the period. We seek to return to the holistic, integrative vision of the Victorians as it was expressed in the science and literature of the period, exploring the connections drawn between physiological, psychological and social health, or disease, and offering new ways of contextualising the problems of modernity facing us in the twenty-first century. We are particularly interested in comparative perspectives on these issues from international viewpoints.

Topics might include, but are not limited to:

*         Representations of ‘modern’ disorders and neuroses in literature and the medical press

*         Defining modernity and its problems in the nineteenth century

*         Medical and psychiatric constructions of modern life

*         Social and mental health and welfare

*         Diseases from pollution and changing nineteenth-century environments

*         Diseases from worry, overwork, and mental or physical strain

*         Diseases from excess, self-abuse, stimulants, and narcotics

*         The role of machinery and technology in causing or curing disease

*         Changing relationships between doctors and patients

*         Emerging medical specialisms

*         Global modernities

We welcome proposals from researchers across a range of disciplines and stages of career.  We plan to publish a selection of papers from the event in the form of an edited volume. Please send proposals of no more than 300 words accompanied by a short bio, to medicineandmodernity@ell.ox.ac.uk by Friday, 4th December 2015.

Amelia Bonea, Melissa Dickson, Jennifer Wallis, Sally Shuttleworth.

Announcement of New Book: Work, Psychiatry, and Society 1750-2010 (ed. W. Ernst)

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The editors at h-madness have received the following notification of a new book due out in a few months:

This book offers the first systematic critical appraisal of the uses of work and work therapy in psychiatric institutions across the globe, from the late eighteenth to the end of the twentieth century. Contributors explore the daily routine in psychiatric institutions and ask whether work was therapy, part of a regime of punishment or a means of exploiting free labour. By focusing on mental patients’ day-to-day life in closed institutions, the authors fill a gap in the history of psychiatric regimes. The geographical scope is wide, ranging from Northern America to Japan, India and Western as well as Eastern Europe, and the authors engage with broad historical questions, such as the impact of colonialism and communism and the effect of the World Wars. The book presents an alternative history of the emergence of occupational therapy and will be of interest not only to academics in the fields of history and sociology but also to health professionals.

(hb 978-0-7190-9769-0 £75.00 January 2016 234x156mm 440pp 20 illustrations, black and white)

How I Became a Historian of Psychiatry: Andrew Scull

We are delighted to have Andrew Scull participate in our H-Madness series “How I Became a Historian of Psychiatry”. Scull, Distinguished Professor of Sociology at UC San Diego, has authored numerous books including Museums of Madness; Decarceration; The Most Solitary of Afflictions: Madness and Society in Britain, 1700-1900; Masters of Bedlam and, most recently, Madness in Civilization: A Cultural History of Insanity, from the Bible to Freud, and from the Madhouse to Modern Medicine (2015). In 2015, he received the Roy Porter Medal for lifetime contributions to the history of medicine, and in 2016, he will receive the Eric T. Carlson award for lifetime contributions to the history of psychiatry.

It is fair to say that I first became a historian of psychiatry by accident. I have remained one by choice, and continue to be fascinated by the subject, and by the rich array of scholarship it has generated over the past four decades, a period where I think the subject has grown to intellectual maturity.

Let me explain the first sentence a bit. My father was demobilized after the Second World War having learned to be a land surveyor in the Royal Engineers. He then joined the Ordnance Survey, an outfit that maps the British Isles.  That meant a peripatetic existence that lasted for nearly a decade. I was born in Edinburgh in Scotland because that was where my parents happened to be at the time, but we soon moved south, and then, in the mid-fifties, moved much further afield to colonial Africa, Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia) to be a bit more precise. I spent three years there before we moved back to England when I was eleven and I began attending a local grammar school, from which I graduated seven years later. I read omnivorously as a child, and though my father had left formal education at 14, ours was luckily a house full of books and newspapers.  From an early age, I was fascinated with history. At age thirteen, I faced a choice that reflected the defects of attending a small rural school: I either had to opt for the sciences or the arts. Given my emerging love of history, I chose the latter, and the choice has worked out well for me, but as I look back on things, it was a crazy choice (forgive me) to force on an adolescent.

At school, I won an open scholarship to Balliol College, Oxford, becoming the first in my family to attend university. The history tripos at Oxford in those days was very old fashioned, and I chose instead a degree in PPE (Politics, Philosophy, and Economics), a course of study that also included some 19th century history and a smattering of sociology. Most British students spend their undergraduate years studying a single subject. My choice of degree meant I had a much broader grounding in philosophy and the social sciences, and Oxford was a time of exciting intellectual challenges and growth. As it was also the time of the Vietnam War and the events of the sixties, it was also a time that reinforced my existing left wing political sympathies, though unlike some of the privileged people I now mingled with, I was never attracted to the sectarian politics of the various Trotskyite and Maoist sorts that then infected the place.

The first (happy) accident that took place during these years was meeting the person who would become my wife – a young American who was spending a sophomore year abroad studying at Oxford. It was that romantic entanglement that persuaded me to move to the United States for doctoral work. Given the hard times that would soon befall the British academic scene, that too was fortunate for my career prospects, though our initial intent was to move eventually back to Britain. In those days, even Oxford academics rarely travelled to North America, and they snobbishly looked down their noses at American universities, about which they knew very little. I confined my choices of graduate schools to the East Coast, because that was where my girlfriend was in college, and when I was fortunate to be offered admission to Harvard, Yale, and Princeton, my advisors told me that it really didn’t matter which I chose – they were all much of a muchness.

I chose Princeton, and in many ways that was a mistake, though a lucky one, as it turned out.  I had chosen to do graduate work in sociology, which in those days was briefly more open to historical work than much of it now is, and the subject struck me as sufficiently amorphous as to allow me to pursue my intellectual interests wherever they led.  But by now I had a considerable interest in post-war French politics, acquired in my Oxford years, and I expected to pursue that interest in my doctoral work.  At Princeton, however, I found no-one in either the sociology or the political science departments with whom I wanted to work on the subject.  Indeed, the Princeton sociology department was in those days in a pretty parlous state, unless one wanted to become a demography, which was certainly not something that interested me.

The graduate students in the years above me recommended a particular young associate professor named Robert Scott, who taught on deviance and social control, and with some misgivings, I enrolled in his seminar and read an array of work I would never have otherwise encountered. I read Erving Goffman on asylums, and Thomas Scheff’s work on labelling and mental illness (a perspective I immediately found wanting). But pursuing my long-standing interests in history, I also read Michel Foucault’s Madness and Civilization (the truncated translation by Richard Howard and a book that was not yet famous in North America) and a new book by an American historian, David Rothman, The Discovery of the Asylum, that was making quite a splash. I also read a more focused and less fashionable history of the Worcester State Hospital by Gerald Grob. By accident, then, I had discovered a topic I found fascinating.  Furthermore, when I investigated the historiography of developments in England in the nineteenth century I found it was rather thin. I had found a dissertation topic – and, though I did not then know it, a lifetime obsession.

Deciding to work on Victorian lunacy reform was perhaps an odd choice for a sociology PhD, but it had one great advantage for my wife and me: it provided an excuse to return to England for months of primary research in local archive offices and in mental hospital basements – perhaps not the most romantic of settings to work side-by-side (and I could not possibly now  afford the labour of the highly successful attorney my wife has now become), but in a perverse way we enjoyed it, and I fell in love with playing a historical detective.

Somewhat surprisingly, perhaps, when I had nearly completed my thesis, I managed to secure a number of job offers in sociology departments. I had two members of the Princeton history department on my thesis committee, but did not seek a job in that discipline, which proved a good decision in some ways, since the market for historians of Britain was already drying up, and because historians are hired to plough down a narrower furrow than I would ever be comfortable with, sticking for the most part to a particular period and a particular national historiography. By contrast, the two sociology departments I have made my career in (I also, ironically, spent a year back in Princeton in its very fine history department), were open to having on their faculty someone who increasingly spent much of his time in researching the distant past, and imposed no limits on my scholarship.

When I made the rounds of the job market, and underwent the ritual of presenting my work, I was met on more than one occasion by questions about the present-day mental health scene. Occasionally, my interrogator, more knowledgeable than I (for I had been buried in nineteenth century materials) would suggest that, as a critic of the trajectory of Victorian museums of madness, I must be glad that we were now abandoning them. Were we, I wondered, and if so, why?

Settled in my first job at the University of Pennsylvania, I confronted a task I found distinctly unappetizing: transforming my sprawling dissertation into a publishable book. I baulked at the task, needing more distance from the text than I then had. So I took up the question of deinstitutionalization, and in relatively short order, wrote Decarceration. The book has its faults, as many first books do, but as I look back on it now (laying aside my youthful infatuation with neo-Marxist ideas like the fiscal crisis of the state), I think it got a surprising number of things right. “Community care” was the slogan of the moment, and it was all a grand reform that would usher the mad back into our welcoming midst, or so the ideologues of the movement would have it. It was the drugs that made it all possible, so the psychiatrists assured us, on the basis on no more than temporal coincidence and their own overweening confidence in chemical cures.  It was in part the product of the critical “anti-psychiatry” of people like Goffman and Szasz, claimed their followers. My book rejected or was sharply critical of all these claims, pointing to the limits of anti-psychotics and their many adverse effects, the non-existence of community care and the hostility and neglect that were the fate of discharged patients. It argued that what was happened was driven in great measure by fiscal concerns, and in the United States by the ability to transfer costs between levels of government. And it suggested that the rhetoric of reform masked what was an emerging policy of malign neglect. I think those criticisms have all held up rather well.

Completing Decarceration early in 1976, I had become convinced I needed more training in medical history than I had received in graduate school, where, truth to tell, I had perforce been largely self taught, and I was now fortunate enough to win an ACLS post-doctoral fellowship that allowed me a year in the Sub-Department of the History of Medicine at University College London, a small but vibrant collection of scholars led by Bill Bynum, who would go on to become the most distinguished and successful director for a decade and a half of the late, much lamented Wellcome Institute for the History of Medicine – a setting I would spend a very happy year at five years later on a Guggenheim Fellowship, and would visit for shorter periods again and again for more than two decades. The year in London also allowed me to finish revising Museums of Madness, which Penguin Books then published.

My return to Penn in the fall of 1977 was a difficult one. In my absence, the department had had an external review of its graduate program, and the various factions among the senior faculty had aired a variety of grievances and dirty laundry in public. The atmosphere was poisonous, and to make matters worse, during the year, my closest friends in the department had come up for tenure and been denied. They were all frantically scouring the job market. Though it was still some two years before I might face the same fate, I decided not to wait: I love my work, but I found myself hating to go to the University, and that told me it was time to go. The Princeton History Department offered me the temporary lifeline of a year in its Shelby Cullom Davis Center for Historical Studies, and soon after that, the University of California at San Diego offered me a tenured position. Here I have been left free to follow my intellectual interests wherever they have taken me: to studies of the emergence of psychiatry as a profession; work on the mad trade in eighteenth century England, and on the complex relations between doctors, patients and families in eighteenth century London; the history of psychiatric therapeutics, and of experimentation on vulnerable mental patients; hysteria; the impact of World War II on American psychiatry, and much else besides, including, most recently, the ultimate scholarly chutzpah of producing a book on Madness in Civilization: A Cultural History of Insanity, from the Bible to Freud, and from the Madhouse to Modern Medicine. I shall be off to the Rockefeller Archives in a month, for I am already in the midst of my next project. The history of psychiatry continues to hold me in its thrall, and I bless the accidents that led me to this life-long obsession. More detective work beckons, more discoveries to make, more reflection on what I find, and the enormous pleasure of trying to render those discoveries into texts others may (I hope) find some pleasure and profit in reading.

Many thanks to Andrew Scull for sharing this story!

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