The End of the Line
In one week's time, we will have left Germany after having spent almost 11 months here. Our goals in coming were varied, but in some ways pretty straight forward. Professionally, I wanted to write the most part of a new book. As a family, we wanted to give the kids the opportunity to see a bit of the world before schooling made it too difficult for us to just pick up and go somewhere for an extended period. Personally, I wanted to make sure I used my non-teaching period doing something beyond staying at home behind the office desk.
The last idea proved to be a good move, with my university doing its best to set itself on fire with a 'reform' process that has all the appearances of an attempt to game the Australian university sector's evaluation process. From a distance I've watched some of the best researchers I know waste a whole year fighting to save what they can from the ravages of managerialism. I'm glad to have been away from that, because I know that, had I been there, I would have been drawn into the daily micro-level skirmishes surrounding the reform on an almost full time basis, despite being on leave. And it appears that, despite all of the efforts that others have made to mitigate its effects, these efforts have amounted to very little. Almost everyone I talk to has been burned by the experience. A lot more could be said here, but I'll leave it at 'It's a crying shame'.
In stark contrast, as a family, we've bloomed here. That's not to say it hasn't been hard leaving everything and everyone behind for Germany. But choosing Münster meant that we weren't totally socially isolated, and we were able to pick up some of the old strands from the past 20 years since we've been coming back and forth between Germany and Australia. It's strange to think we now have 'old friends' here in Germany, but with some of them I watched the 2000 Sydney Olympics in a 10 person sharehouse. With others, our kids have (on and off) grown up together. One friend I even met hitch-hiking to Cairns in the mid 90s. Frau G has certainly re-connected with our old crew, and she is understandably having trouble saying her goodbyes at the moment, as her internal drive to keep her friends close kicks in again. She's blogged some of our family's experiences here
As I said in an earlier post, the kids left a lot behind to come over here, and the cost-benefit trade-off with what they've gained is hard to ascertain. But they profess to being enthusiastic about having seen some parts of Italy, France, Ireland etc, although they're not as enthusiastic as I am about night rides home from friends' places in the snow. They'll have to make up their own minds about what it has all amounted to for them, but they're already saying things like 'next time I come...' I've loved hanging out with them here, listening to their voices in German, watching them with admiration as they do their homework in another language, cheering them as they get on their bikes to ride to school in the dark with all the bicycle commuters here. They just got on with it.
In terms of the work, I'm going home happy. I've drafted 4/5 of the new book and have sketched out the 3 remaining chapters. Two of them look fine to write (on China and Sultan Mkwawa respectively), while the 3rd (which brings together the scarce threads of material on the Marshall and Caroline Islands) may yet prove to be my undoing. I've got boxes of materials to send home and I'm ready to push this beast into shape. After some research trips next year, hopefully to the other end of the story, I feel like I'll have a book that will really contribute an understanding of the mechanics of empire in both the metropole and the (very different) frontiers that I consider. I hope I can do it all justice.
What has been most exciting, from a selfish point of view, has been the oportunity to dive headlong into historiographies and primary source material that I've never seen before. Almost every day I get up and read brand new stuff. I often finish with the feeling 'I never really understood where that fit before, but now I think I do'. All very provisional, and the usual caveats about historical knowledge and my relationship as a historian to my materials still apply. But there is no way I could have written what I have from Adelaide. Or on a 4 week trip in November either. I've had space to think, to mull it all over, to get a sense of what is at stake. Most importantly, I can chase up any leads I get in real time with an amazingly stocked set of university libraries with strong 19th century collections (kudos Münster!). Irrespective of how it is reviewed, this book will end up being my best effort at writing it. Any lack will be solely down to me.
Thre are other, more mundane things that will be missed. Friday night Stammtisch with our small, plucky crew, pommes or fried Asian food from the alley in town, only semi-ironic Kaffee und Kuchen (tea for me please, with a dash of milk) on weekends with local friends, coming out of my office at night and hearing the choir rehearsing in the 400 year old church next door to my office, looking out at the tiny river and the students sitting on its banks from my window as I chew on an idea, riding my bike home via the little shop owned by the Iranian ex-navy guy and his wife who loans Frau G cookbooks, coming home to the kids in the pool in summer or rugged up watching German TV in the winter, bells pealing at random and frequent times. All good stuff.
The last idea proved to be a good move, with my university doing its best to set itself on fire with a 'reform' process that has all the appearances of an attempt to game the Australian university sector's evaluation process. From a distance I've watched some of the best researchers I know waste a whole year fighting to save what they can from the ravages of managerialism. I'm glad to have been away from that, because I know that, had I been there, I would have been drawn into the daily micro-level skirmishes surrounding the reform on an almost full time basis, despite being on leave. And it appears that, despite all of the efforts that others have made to mitigate its effects, these efforts have amounted to very little. Almost everyone I talk to has been burned by the experience. A lot more could be said here, but I'll leave it at 'It's a crying shame'.
In stark contrast, as a family, we've bloomed here. That's not to say it hasn't been hard leaving everything and everyone behind for Germany. But choosing Münster meant that we weren't totally socially isolated, and we were able to pick up some of the old strands from the past 20 years since we've been coming back and forth between Germany and Australia. It's strange to think we now have 'old friends' here in Germany, but with some of them I watched the 2000 Sydney Olympics in a 10 person sharehouse. With others, our kids have (on and off) grown up together. One friend I even met hitch-hiking to Cairns in the mid 90s. Frau G has certainly re-connected with our old crew, and she is understandably having trouble saying her goodbyes at the moment, as her internal drive to keep her friends close kicks in again. She's blogged some of our family's experiences here
As I said in an earlier post, the kids left a lot behind to come over here, and the cost-benefit trade-off with what they've gained is hard to ascertain. But they profess to being enthusiastic about having seen some parts of Italy, France, Ireland etc, although they're not as enthusiastic as I am about night rides home from friends' places in the snow. They'll have to make up their own minds about what it has all amounted to for them, but they're already saying things like 'next time I come...' I've loved hanging out with them here, listening to their voices in German, watching them with admiration as they do their homework in another language, cheering them as they get on their bikes to ride to school in the dark with all the bicycle commuters here. They just got on with it.
In terms of the work, I'm going home happy. I've drafted 4/5 of the new book and have sketched out the 3 remaining chapters. Two of them look fine to write (on China and Sultan Mkwawa respectively), while the 3rd (which brings together the scarce threads of material on the Marshall and Caroline Islands) may yet prove to be my undoing. I've got boxes of materials to send home and I'm ready to push this beast into shape. After some research trips next year, hopefully to the other end of the story, I feel like I'll have a book that will really contribute an understanding of the mechanics of empire in both the metropole and the (very different) frontiers that I consider. I hope I can do it all justice.
What has been most exciting, from a selfish point of view, has been the oportunity to dive headlong into historiographies and primary source material that I've never seen before. Almost every day I get up and read brand new stuff. I often finish with the feeling 'I never really understood where that fit before, but now I think I do'. All very provisional, and the usual caveats about historical knowledge and my relationship as a historian to my materials still apply. But there is no way I could have written what I have from Adelaide. Or on a 4 week trip in November either. I've had space to think, to mull it all over, to get a sense of what is at stake. Most importantly, I can chase up any leads I get in real time with an amazingly stocked set of university libraries with strong 19th century collections (kudos Münster!). Irrespective of how it is reviewed, this book will end up being my best effort at writing it. Any lack will be solely down to me.
Thre are other, more mundane things that will be missed. Friday night Stammtisch with our small, plucky crew, pommes or fried Asian food from the alley in town, only semi-ironic Kaffee und Kuchen (tea for me please, with a dash of milk) on weekends with local friends, coming out of my office at night and hearing the choir rehearsing in the 400 year old church next door to my office, looking out at the tiny river and the students sitting on its banks from my window as I chew on an idea, riding my bike home via the little shop owned by the Iranian ex-navy guy and his wife who loans Frau G cookbooks, coming home to the kids in the pool in summer or rugged up watching German TV in the winter, bells pealing at random and frequent times. All good stuff.
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