Reading and Intellectual Engagement

     In the United States, when someone asks me what I study, and I say "eighteenth and nineteenth century French history," I usually expect a disinterested response.  Sometimes, people are puzzled ("Why?"), equally often, they are actively dismissive ("Yuck.").   Here, people are far more interested.  One might think that it's the difference between working on French and American history, but for the fact that, in the United States, the aforementioned "Yuck" often includes a phrase like "I hate history," with no qualifier for the type of history being studied.
   I was reminded of this difference by a conversation with a neighbor yesterday.  She is an older woman, who has raised all of her children and is now widowed and lives alone, though her daughter and grandchildren live in Lyon.  We run into each other from time to time, especially waiting for the bus, and she always makes an effort to have a conversation with me.  Yesterday, our conversation centered on my research interests (which include motherhood and parenting) as well as her perceptions of local contemporary breastfeeding practices and we had quite a nice conversation about her interest in the topic.  She told me about some books she has read about the history of motherhood and parenting, and she really wanted to remember the author of one of the books because she was certain that I would find it of interest.  Right before my stop, she remembered the author that she was trying to recall -- and it was Elisabeth Badinter, a woman whose work is both academic and political, very engaged with the currents of the conversation that we were having.
    This type of conversation, with someone who is interested, well-read, and engaged, seems to me to be more likely in France than in the United States.  Here, I see people on their way to work reading difficult sociological texts and novels -- not 50 Shades of Grey but real, serious novels -- in the hands of a significant number of people on the train or bus.  Intellectual inquiry is taken seriously in a mainstream way that it isn't in the United States.

Cold (or lukewarm) calls

     I would never make it as a telemarketer.  I am not fond of the telephone and particularly dislike talking to people I don't know.  Even when the format is clear (for example, a cocktail party or an awards reception), I find it stressful.
    In that context, being a historian has a lot to recommend it:  you go to the archives or library and sit with books, articles, and ideas all day.  You don't really have to talk to many people (except perhaps a librarian or archivist, especially if you need special permission or an unusual document) and the people you're researching are long past talking back.
    The Fulbright meetings, however, reminded me that I'm really not just here to spend time at the Bibliothèque Part Dieu (as awesome as their collection is for me) or other archives (ditto).  I'm also here to make connections.  I have done some of that, but I heard the encouragement to do more and I know that it's a good thing to get in touch with more people (or to email the people that I contacted once but never really connected with because my arrival coincided with summer's slow-down).
    I think that's probably important in any location and field of study, but it's especially true in France, where personal connections can make the difference between access to an archive or no access at all.
    So today, I had a meeting with a friend of a friend.  I don't really need anything from him, but I had been given his name and there is potential overlap in our interests.  We sat and chatted for about an hour, so now he knows who I am, if I need to contact him.
   What this reminded me is that A) my French is improving and B) I am really glad that I don't have to talk to my sources on a regular basis!

Fulbright Orientation

   I just spent three days in Paris with the other boursiers Fulbrights, ranging from English-language teaching assistants to research scholars working on advanced projects.  A good majority of them were in Paris or its surrounding area, though if I remember correctly, not a single research scholar is working in Paris right now (Lille, Bordeaux, Montpellier, etc.).
    It was a really invigorating and enjoyable time.  On the enjoyable side, we had a trip to Chantilly (and got to see the opening of the Delacroix/Orientalism exhibit, as well as a truly fantastic symphonic perfomance) and some great chances to connect with scholars that I would never otherwise meet.  This year's research scholars are biologists, with a political scientist and a behaviorial psychologist; I was the only humanist among them.  We had conversations about such diverse things as genetically-modified food, organic farming, and the problems of enrolling kids in French schools.   I was also able to speak with some of the doctoral Fulbrights about their work (many more of them are humanists) and their career plans, and I think I had some good advice and connections to offer.
   I left feeling both encouraged (I've gotten some work done and have had what appears to actually be an easy time negotiating school enrollment, etc,) and challenged to get the rest of my work done (make those contacts!  keep up that research!).  I now have a "to-do" list that has gotten a bit longer than before, and I'm very conscious of the fact that I have just over two months remaining.

French Academia, Gender, and Religion

   I'm a cultural historian of France.  The questions that interest me have traditionally been ones about gender and family life, which is reflected in my training and in my research.  I had somehow internalized the idea that "gender as a useful category of analysis" (a phrase popularized by historian Joan Scott before I even thought of graduate study) was common in France as well as the United States.  Certainly, at conferences, I encounter French colleagues who study women's history and questions of gender.  It's rarely been suggested to me -- and never, in my memory, by a colleague in French history -- that studying gender is illegitimate or worthless, though I do sometimes see it as less mainstream than other types of history.
   Imagine my surprise, then, when a colleague in France told me that she believed that gender was generally not a well-accepted field of study here; that it was marginal and a field in which it would be difficult to find a job.  She said there was less research support, fewer institutes, and that it was more politically-charged than in the U.S. (She paired this with an observation that the history of religion is a "dusty" field, one that is seen as old-fashioned or boring.  Apparently, a history of religious women is both old-fashioned *and* marginal!)
   My first reaction was that this is, quite frankly, not the case in the United States.  I'm sure most women's historians have stories about the colleagues who don't take them seriously or who denigrate their research concerns, but the fact is, a research emphasis on women, gender, or sexuality is not going to be a death knell for a job application.  I've had supportive colleagues who are interested in my work, and there are plenty of institutes devoted to research on related issues.
   And then my second reaction was to remember that the Woodrow Wilson Doctoral Dissertation Fellowship in Women's Studies has been suspended for this year.  I hope that isn't indicative of a trend in the wrong direction!

What the Fulbright is actually for

     Even though my youngest is having "adjustment issues," I've finally got all the kids in school and I'm back to real history work.  This week, I've gotten some great work done on my literature chapter and had a wonderful and productive coffee with a colleague who works on young girls and religious life in nineteenth-century France.  She's offered to facilitate some introductions for me, as well, should I need them.  It feels good to be moving forward in more than a linguistic way! 
     Of course, linguistic progress continues, too.  In addition to conversations with the electrician and the plumber, I had a nice chat with the telephone shop girl, who discussed linguistic pedagogy with me.  (She confirmed that I have an accent but complimented my command of French.)