A Beginning: Exam Reading Week 1

Confused? See my last post for Explanations.

I tried to begin my exam reading in earnest back in May, and it was such a slog. I felt like each page read was hard-won, and the one day that I did read all I planned to I ended up with a tension headache from eye strain. So I took a break.
Looking towards the beginning of the semester (the time I told myself I would begin my reading, and high time, too), I was worried I would have the same struggle. But friends, I did not!

It helped that I began with a book I was looking forward to reading: Abigail Williams’ The Book In Society, a scholarly book about the social aspects of reading in the 18th century. The topic was fascinating, and Williams was engaging, and thus I conquered the first book in list three. According to Williams, reading was a highly social activity; throughout the century there was an elocution fad, and lots of books and opinions on how to read aloud “correctly.” People read together, often pausing for discussion, to while away the hours during the evenings or bad weather. Lower classes would take turns reading (if there was more than one person literate), as they sat around and worked at carpentry or whatever. There was even a market for book-related merchandise–statues of beloved characters, tea sets and fans with quotes from favorite books. Williams did a great job of evoking the eclectic, sociable world of books in this time, with examples from an impressive swath of diarists and letter-writers, male and female.

I also finished Tom Jones, which I had begun in January. It is long–my edition clocks in at almost 900 pages — but it shouldn’t have taken me that long to read. I’ve been poking away at this book for a couple of weeks, but never reading more than thirty or so pages every couple of days. That was enough, however, for me to start to suspect that about 200 pages from the end I’d get hooked, and find my pace pick up, and that is exactly what happened. Despite my mostly slow reading pace, I thoroughly enjoyed Tom Jones. It is the story of a young man, a foundling, who is raised by a country squire, Mr. Allworthy. Tom is brought up with Mr. Allworthy’s nephew, and falls in love with his neighbor, the lovely Sophia. When Tom, through the malice of his enemies and also through his own fault, is cast away from Mr. Allworthy’s presence, he embarks on an often-madcap journey around England that takes him eventually to London. Along the way, he begins to grow, and become a man who is worthy of Sophia.

One of the things I enjoyed about the story is the strong presence of the narrator. The first chapter of each book is a discussion of an idea of some sort, usually relating to this new genre we now call the novel, or about writing, or about virtue. And the narrator often addresses the reader directly throughout the narrative. Indeed, in the last book, he says, effectively, “we have so much plot to get through in this book I won’t be commenting,” and you know, I missed it. One of my favorite narrative moves is when the narrator often says something like “and then they had a conversation about such and such, but that’s not interesting/relevant, so we’ll move on.” It’s such a neat trick–it implies that this conversation does take place, which adds depth and richness to the novel, while adding little in the way of words, of which this novel already has so many.

There’s so much in Tom Jones, and I simply have not had the time to explore its themes. I plan to continue to engage with the book after reading some scholarship about it to help me get a handle on it. But I definitely recommend it. Take it slow, and enjoy the journey! Not only is it a good story (with an amazing plot twist I did not see coming right towards the end), it does an excellent job of depicting (and satirizing) mid-eighteenth-century culture.

On to week 2!


PhD Exams: Overview

Between now and March I will be reading for my PhD exams. Partly as a way to keep myself accountable, and partly because others might find it interesting to get a glimpse into this strange time of the PhD experience, I’ve decided that each week, I will list what I’ve read since the last post, and choose one of those texts and do a short review/analysis/discussion of it. This will also be great for anyone curious about eighteenth century British and American literature; we’re covering it alllll.

But before that, what even are PhD exams? Consider this the “info dump,” overview, explainy post. Don’t really care? Come back this weekend for the literature. (Or check out the archive if you’re from the future. Hi there! How are things?)


Have you ever wondered what it entails when someone in a PhD program says they have exams? Or are you considering a PhD program yourself and wondering about the experience? Or do you just want to know why I’m reading a bajillion books* in six months? This is the post for you.

A caveat: this explanation is specific to the program (*school redacted*) and field (literature) I’m in. How this works varies from school to school and program to program, so your experience (or your friend’s) may be different. And by “may” I mean “definitely will.”

So you start a PhD program in literature. Here in the US, that usually means you take a few years of classes, then have your oral or comprehensive exams, then write a dissertation (a book-length scholarly project). This semester, I’m beginning the “exam” phase.

The purpose of the exam is twofold: to prepare you to teach by giving you the chance to read and study all the major literature of your chosen period, and to help you explore the ideas and questions that you hope to work on in your dissertation through a list of secondary (scholarly) books and articles.

The first thing you do is put together your exam committee. This involves identifying 3 professors who do work in or adjacent to your proposed field of study, and asking them to be your committee. They will help you develop your reading lists, and provide the exam questions. Typically, one of these professors is the chair, or head, of the committee. They are the one you work most closely with, and the one that has the final say in your lists, etc. (And they’re responsible for the administrative paperwork.)

I did this last fall. I met with the professor I wanted to be my chair (Professor C, for chair), and asked him if he would. We discussed the (very vague) research direction I’d like to go in for my future dissertation, and he agreed that our interests overlapped enough that he would be a good choice. I picked this professor first because his interests align with mine, in terms of period (the literal time period, which for me is 1700-1830 British and American literature), method (the way you approach analysis: print culture and historiography) and specific interests (the reading and writing practices of ordinary people of this time). I also picked him because I’ve taken several of his classes and know we work well together. This is best-case scenario; sometimes the professor you need hasn’t taught during your “take classes phase.” In this case, I strongly recommend trying to get to know them by meeting with them a few times to chat about your interests.

After meeting with Professor C, I asked the other two profs, Professor 2 and Professor 3. I chose these professors to help fill in ‘gaps’ in Professor C’s expertise, to help give me a more rounded exam list. For example Professor 2 does work with 18th century British literature, while Professor C is more focused on American, so they balance each other out.

In the spring, I started writing my lists. I did this by looking at lists written by other students in my program, googling and finding lists from students at other schools who were doing similar work, and by asking my professors for suggestions. After a few rounds of back and forth with each, I finalized the lists. They will still fluctuate as I do my reading; I’ll run out of time to get to *everything*, and I may find books that are more relevant than others on my list currently and switch them, things like that. But they are on the books as “officially approved,” which is what matters.

The exam list has three parts: primary literature, secondary literature, and scholarship. For a lot of people, the primary list is the books in the genre or sub-field they most want to work in, and the secondary list is more of a survey. For example, you might have list one be “American postmodern encyclopedic novels,” and list two be “general American lit from 1860.”** I’ve arranged things a little differently, as I’m essentially “double majoring” in British and American literature, so the subordination of “primary” and “secondary” doesn’t really matter. The primary list is primary because Professor C. is an Americanist, not because it’s most important. So you see, within the general practice there is a lot of individualized variation, at least at my school.

My first list is major works of American literature 1700-1830. You might recognize names like Cotton Mather, Jonathan Edwards, Washington Irving, Thomas Jefferson, and James Fenimore Cooper. Also, while 1700-1830 is a pretty typical time frame that scholars use (there were some big shifts in the 1830s after a lot of continuity), most American lit I courses in college go to 1860, so I’ve added some of the big hits to prepare me to teach–books like The Scarlet Letter, Moby Dick, and the poetry of Walt Whitman show up for that reason.

My second list is major works of British literature 1700-1830. Did I say 1830 so I could get Jane Austen on this list? I’ll never tell 😇. Since I’m focusing on novels in my research, I have a lot of novels on this list (and the other one, too, but there are far fewer American novels published in this time frame). Robinson Crusoe, Pamela, Tom Jones, Tristram Shandy; Maria Edgeworth, Fanny Burney, Anne Radcliffe, Jane Austen, Mary Shelley (there were a LOT of female authors in the second half of the 18th century). It also includes poetry and prose, from writers like Samuel Johnson and Alexander Pope.

My third list is secondary scholarship about reading and print culture. I’m looking at general scholarly takes on print culture, on books about reading specifically, and also books about the relationship between reading and education. For the curious, “print culture” is the study of printed things — books, pamphlets, broadsides, newspapers, etc.–and the way people interacted with them as objects.

I was actually supposed to begin reading in the spring, through the summer, and take my exams late this fall. But between the chaos of the world and getting married in March, I got to May and was staring burnout in the face, and so arranged to push things back and take the summer off. I’m so thankful that my department is willing to work with us to arrange things like that when we need them.

So! Tune in this weekend for some thoughts on the first books I’ve been reading.

  • *It’s actually something in the neighborhood of 130; this includes long books like Tom Jones (almost 900 pages), parts of nonfiction books, essays, average-sized books, collections of poetry, and single poems. So it’s a lot of things, but at least some of those things are short.

**This is a real example.