Michael Cawood Green
Reflection and reflexivity: The archive and the creative process
This is a brief extract from a work in progress, a novel entitled The Ghosting of Anne Armstrong, in which a complex seventeenth-century court room drama is interwoven with an historian’s attempts to recover a voice effectively lost to the legal and historical record.
In 1673 a fourteen-year old servant girl appeared before a number of Justices of the Peace in Northumberland to accuse residents of various remote villages in the Tyne Valley and surrounds of holding witches’ meetings in which they danced with the Devil, rode upon wooden dishes and eggshells, and assumed the shapes of cats, hares, greyhounds and bees. Anne Armstrong’s accusations appear to have been dismissed at the Morpeth Quarter Sessions, but she testifies again and again in other locations before other officials, telling of being bridled and ridden like a horse by a neighbour in the form of a cat to nocturnal gatherings. At these, she said, the celebrants, in the presence of the Devil, swung on ropes from the ceiling, which magically delivered whatever kind of food or drink they desired. On each occasion, as far as can be ascertained, her testimony was rejected.
JA Sharpe, one of the leading historians of the law of that period, considers Armstrong’s pre-trial depositions ‘among the most remarkable texts in the history of English witchcraft’ (Sharpe 1997: 279). For all their compelling detail, however, Armstrong’s accounts fall short of full historical contextualisation. No records of a trial following on from her depositions have been found, which leaves us unsure as to whether her accusations ever came to trial, or whether the trial records have been lost. As far as the historical record is concerned, after her vivid, powerful statements before the Northumberland Justices , Anne Armstrong simply disappears.
Her story is, however, still regularly retold in the area where she once lived. Reproduced in ever-shifting and often highly inaccurate versions in everything from tour guides and local newspaper articles to advertisements for residential properties in the area, it is particularly associated with the building she is said to haunt, the Wellington Inn in Riding Mill. It was here that many of the more bizarre incidents Armstrong reported were supposed to have taken place and local lore has it that once her accusations were dismissed, she was found hanged in its scullery. Whether a suicide or murdered by those she accused, Armstrong’s ‘cringing little ghost’ is said to haunt the room where her body was found (see Atkinson 1975a, 1975b).
Armstrong’s case is thus a combination of specific detail and tantalising openness, both in terms of its truth status – as a case of witchcraft or a ghost story – and its historical contextualisation. Whilst this does make her story an attractive subject for a fictional recreation of an historical incident, The Ghosting of Anne Armstrong explores and reconstructs the gaps in the evidence and problems of interpretation with a thorough respect for the available evidence – more than that, speaking reflexively, this work takes seriously the conventional archival work necessary for Armstrong’s story to be re-created to the point where its full strangeness challenges attempts at ‘knowing’, ‘understanding’, or, in that most telling of terms, ‘mastering’ it.
The real significance of the historical material in such a project lies in the resistance it presents to the theoretical constructs and creative practices brought to it. As such, The Ghosting of Anne Armstrong is a ‘ficto-critical’ combination of experimental fictional techniques, archival and field research, and investigations into relevant areas of cultural theory, combined to explore the fundamental problem of historicism: how does one represent the past without simply appropriating it to one’s own position.
In working towards this, it is necessary to research as deeply and responsibly as possible, well past the point of having enough background information to simply get on with the story. The research needs to approach a point where the world being conjured up overwhelms whatever narrative strategy is being brought to it, causing the story to twist, buckle, give way before the strangeness at hand and the even greater strangeness always just out of reach.
Gathering the evidence necessary to both generate and challenge a story for Anne Armstrong has involved, as indicated above, various modes of research, but for the purposes of this article, it is aspects of the archival work that will be foregrounded. One reason for choosing to focus on the archive is to think through the UK’s Arts and Humanities Research Council’s forceful exclusion of ‘content research’ from practice-led research. ‘This route excludes research to provide content,’ states the guidelines for the ‘practice-led and applied route’ (since discontinued as a route in its own right, although its principles still inform bidding in this area ): ‘For example, if you wished to write a novel about refugees, the research questions should be about the process of writing the novel, not about the experience of the refugees’ (Arts and Humanities Research Council nd).
Good enough advice in itself, keeping as it does the creative process at the centre of practice-led research; it does however risk underplaying the ways in which ‘content research’ can act back upon the creative process. If one wishes to take seriously the ethics of otherness and recognise the materiality of the ‘content’ informing a creative project, this means not making that ‘content’ secondary to the ‘process of writing the novel’ – allowing it to resist, as best one can, the imposition of narrative structure or ‘theme,’ or any other fictional devices that risks, even encourage, the appropriation of a historical subject’s story. Research here is meaningful to the degree that the ‘background’ material for the fiction forces writers to enter another place, one in which they are strangers, with their initial ideas and concerns tested against, altered by, and dis-located in the imaginative experience of that world of otherness.
A similar concern with the appropriating nature of narrative has emerged in archive studies. In Exploring Archives: An Introduction to Archival Ideas and Practice in South Africa (2000), Verne Harris explicitly compares the work of archiving and interpreting archives with the writing of fiction, but he does so in a way that identifies the potentially distorting or erasing effect of the narrative mode on archival understanding. ‘Archivists tell stories about stories, they tell stories with stories,’ he writes, but it is for this reason that it is essential that the archivist acknowledges ‘the reality of storytelling’ in his or her work:
Archivists then, in explicitly recognising their use of narratological devices should use this recognition to ensure that the stories they construct around archival material do not close down the latent potential of that material to generate other valid, even competing, stories, or erase the fundamental strangeness that confronts them. Like the more reflexive of novelists, they need to recognise the potential of experimental narrative forms to foreground and even destabilise the ways in which stories are constructed, the ways in which they are used both to give meaning and close down other possible meanings.
This is more than an appeal for the use of the by now well-worn stratagems of metafiction to keep the fictionalising process open; it is to argue that, as a testing, contesting, constantly challenging aspect of the fiction-writing process, a case may be made for the recognition of metafictional devices as legitimate forms of practice research methodology. In particular, it is to consider the ways in which the self-reflexive element that is a defining feature of metafiction can fulfil the requirements for recognising practice as research whilst also serving as an inter-generative, vital part of the creative process.
Allowing – indeed, depending upon – alternative readings of the material one is researching to surface, to shape and impact upon the choices one makes for the story one is telling, brings to the fore the creative role of reflection in the research and writing process. In doing so, it reclaims reflection from the passive, retrospective role it tends to play as part of its conventional place in a scholarly research context.
Bruce Brown, in his address at the Goldsmith’s symposium on The Future of Practice Research (2015), stressed his opposition to reflection as an after-the-fact activity. In his view, a process-based approach to reflection is vital for a good research report submitted in the UK’s research evaluation exercises (REF) : as Chair of Main Panel D (Arts and Humanities) in REF2014, he noted that the ‘best examples were not done after the research for the assessment’; ‘they were,’ he said, ‘done as part of the research and part of what it means to be a scholar in practice-based areas of research.’ As such, they were ‘not a post hoc exercise,’ or ‘a post-hoc description of the research’ (Brown 2015) .
Implicit in this is an important shift in the idea of the reflective commentary accompanying a practice research output: if ‘reflection can be defined as “thinking about” something after the event’, the role it plays in the practice research needs to be informed and expanded by an increasing emphasis on reflexivity, ‘a more immediate, dynamic, and continuing self-awareness’ (Finlay & Gough 2003: ix f/n; my emphasis).
A concentration on reflection alone can marginalise the vital element foregrounded by reflexivity – that is, the productive role the critical reflective component may play in the practice research process. Seen in this way, it is possible that the self-reflexive component can fulfil the requirements for recognising practice as research whilst also serving as an inter-generative, vital part of the creative process. Considered as part of the creative process, reflexivity can be identified as a defining feature of the practice itself, rather than the externally imposed requirement for evaluating an output for research council or research assessment procedures into which it has sometimes lapsed. Here the relationship between the creative and reflective components becomes generative and interactive, with the creative and the critical feeding into and driving each other in a dynamic process identified by Haseman and Mafe:
Building just such a process into the finalised text, leaving its imprint in the work it has played a fundamental in generating, leads to what Paul Williams calls a ‘performative’ approach to reflexivity: this prioritises ‘the discourse of tentative, playful, creative endeavour over explanatory, traditional research discourse’ (Williams 2016) and, when it comes to archival work, it also allows the sheer physicality of the research process to find its way into the creative work as an immediate, identifiable felt effect.
The address to dust in the passages from The Ghosting of Anne Armstrong is a deliberate invocation of the geographer Hayden Lorimer’s account of dust in what he calls a ‘new wave of creative historical research;’ ‘dust,’ he writes, ‘is no longer to be regarded as simply a distraction from the work-at-hand, or at best an ambient side-effect to be enjoyed in wistful moments before attentions return to the proper matters of scholarship’. ‘Of late,’ writes Lorimer, ‘dust has become noteworthy in and of itself, substantially present, and symbolic of the greater ecologies, social conditions, transformative processes and physical textures of historical research practice.’ Dust, he claims,
This is in line with Lorimer’s ‘more-than-representational’ approach, a modification of non-representational theory which shares an interest in challenging researchers to go beyond representation and focus on ‘embodied’ experience. It is, says Lorimer, ‘multifarious, open encounters in the realm of practice that matter most,’ even when
I have found these developments in cultural and historical geography particularly useful as an informing theoretical dimension for The Ghosting of Anne Armstrong, as much for the novel’s deep engagement with the archive, not only the ‘archive-as-source’, but just as importantly, the ‘archive-as-subject’, which focuses on ‘the practices of collecting, classifying, ordering, display and reuse’ (Ashmore et al 2012: 82, my emphasis).
A practice-based approach to the archive seeks ‘to bring the material and documentary properties of archives into play’ (Dwyer & Davies 2010: 89), a process which will, for example, not only acknowledge but embrace, as Sarah Mills puts it, ‘the fragmentary and disordered nature of archives’ (Mills 2013: 5). Mills gives as an example Caitlin DeSilvey’s work on a Montana homestead where she ‘salvages meaning from incomplete sources’: ‘the salvage of memory makes do with materials at hand,’ DeSilvey writes, ‘and uses this material to craft stories about people and place that might otherwise go untold’ (DeSilvey 2007: 421-2).
Anne Armstrong’s story has gone untold in anything other than minor references in historical texts precisely because of the fragmentary nature of the evidence available, and part of the crafting of her story involves the narrator coming up against the problems this poses. He is reminded of them when he tracks down, in one of the ‘working relations’ Lorimer wants to see foregrounded in archival work, the other researcher whose presence he has sensed in the dust covering the documents he is consulting in the National Archives:
There is an echo here of an actual historian’s view of this case, as indicated above. I hasten to add that this historian is nothing like the imaginary historian using some of his words in the novel, and the views expressed are a composite citation of several different historians  on the difficulties of trying to understand Anne Armstrong as an ‘historical’ subject. Still, foregrounding the research in invoking one’s sources runs counter to the reported practices of many historical novelists.
Whilst gaps in the record may be the very stuff of the historical imagination, what is known and can be established is often treated as an impediment to its creative reworking. Any number of writers of historical fiction tell us that research undertaken as part of the fiction-writing process should be put out of mind in order for it to become a vivid, convincing part of the fiction. Information, they say, is the enemy of story, and they specifically invoke forgetting research as a necessary part of the process of writing historical fiction.
‘Historical’ fiction, perhaps, but the reflexive approach taken to The Ghosting of Anne Armstrong aligns the work with a number of significant novels more properly known as ‘historiographical’ fiction. The historiographical mode is one in which, the research material – or, more properly, the practical, theoretical, archival processes by which that material is accessed – is explicitly ‘remembered’: presented upfront, reflected upon, introduced reflexively in and as a part of the narrative structure. This is fiction in which the coming into being of history is a process that drives, even makes, the story itself.
Creative remembering of this sort takes us from seeing the archive in the narrative as an actively produced site rather than a passive source of information to seeing the fictional work itself as ‘site not source,’ a move which gives us grounds to rethink the idea of the reflective commentary as a discursive activity.
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Inscribing the research into the fiction as a generative element in the imaginative process does away with, or at least re-situates, the problem of where reflection stands in relation to the creative work. With the commentary in effect a part of the fiction, the reflective element necessary for the work to be recognised as practice research becomes something of an absent presence. It is demonstrably there, hopefully even meets the practice research requirements of being systematic, rigorous and communicable, but loses its status as a discrete, detached discursive mode, privileged by its scholarly rhetoric as some kind of objective address to the fiction. The creative work itself becomes its own subject, in much the same way as the archive does for the geographers when they talk of a shift from ‘archive-as-source to archive-as-site’. The fiction is more than a passive ‘source’ of material for reflection and is ‘animated’ by the reflexivity informing it in the process of its coming into being. Just as, in the fiction, the usual authority accorded to the researcher discovering and giving meaning to his research material gives way to his taking shape in relation to that material, so the authorial reflection develops as a lived and equal part of the dynamic and fluid process of the act of writing creatively.
In research so conceived I find the beginnings at least of a response to Paul Dawson’s thoughtful critique of the ‘concept of practice-led research’ as a basis for the disciplinary identity of Creative Writing. In ‘Creative Writing and Postmodern Interdisciplinarity’, Dawson hypothetically accepts the argument that ‘the process of writing is an investigative method in itself,’ in which ‘researchers in the field arrive at disciplinary knowledge through the practice of writing rather than the study of writing’. However, he says this assumes,
The assumption he is critiquing is predicated upon another assumption, a distinction between the ‘scholarly’ and the ‘creative’ that mirrors the epistemological distinction (in research terms) between reflection and creativity that if anything, undoes the true disciplinary identity of practice research. The subject of such research is the area generated by the interaction of reflection (commentary, the ‘scholarly’ dimension) and the creative: neither one nor the other, it is the coming together of the two, the place where they meet in reflective-infused practice, that ‘is really responsible for establishing creative writing as a field of study’. The ‘investigative method’ is not ‘the writing itself’, ‘knowledge of how to write’, nor ‘the “content” … of the creative work’: it is the coming together of all these things and more in a creative/reflexive space that is the ‘basis for disciplinary identity’ in practice research generally, and creative writing more specifically.
Reflection as conceived above ‘works against binary distinctions between creativity and reflection in practice-led research work,’ as JT Welsch argues we should in his interrogation of just such an assumption implicit in the language of the UK’s Arts and Humanities Research Council funding guidelines and the National Association of Writers in Education benchmarks. ‘Rather than thinking of the creative and the reflective as two separate elements,’ he writes in terms close to the creative/research process followed in the writing of The Ghosting of Anne Armstrong,
The distinction too between the reflective being essentially abstract and conceptual whilst the creative occupies the more fully imagined part of the process gives way in such an approach. The creative text stages or enacts within itself the cultural/historical geographer’s concern with ‘the embodied and affective dimensions of research through a “more-than-representational” reading of the archive’ (Mills 2013: 7); a ‘more-than-representational’ approach to the writing of the novel ensues that it is attuned, as Jamie Lorimer and Sarah Whatmore put it in their desire to go beyond text-based material in the archive, ‘to the sensual, the poetic, the lively and the corporeal dimensions to the practices depicted’ (Lorimer & Whatmore 2009: 675).
It could be argued that a work of this nature simply falls into the category of texts which, for REF purposes at least, ‘should be submitted without additional material,’ as ‘the output is in itself deemed to constitute sufficient evidence of the research’ . I am inclined to agree with Welsch that ‘The very notion of a potentially “ineligible” creative output – which somehow springs into existence without any evidence of research, self-explanation or self-positioning within the work itself’ is something of an ‘unhelpful straw man’ (Welsch 2015) , and so difficult to think of as a counterpoint to an ‘eligible’ output. Anecdotally too, certain members of the REF panels have spoken of pretty much ignoring the 300-word research statements and portfolios accompanying creative writing outputs and evaluating them on the intrinsic merit of the creative work . This is only comforting in an informal way, and does not align with Bruce Brown’s opinion, as Chair of Main Panel D (Arts and Humanities), that in future REF exercises the submission of research statements and portfolios should no longer be optional (Brown 2015). It does not either, satisfy the expectations of bids for funding from the research counsels and charities, or many of the other research evaluation processes both within institutions and across national and international research structures. In these we meet continuing expectations of at least two distinct voices, those of the creative practitioner and the scholarly-informed commentator.
Challenges to such expectations are emerging, however, even when the reflective element of practice-led research is presented in an additional or supplementary document. It is increasingly the case (mainly to be found in the Australian creative writing doctorate ) that in the view of practice-led researchers, the question of the voice or voices adopted for the reflective commentary should be an open one, no longer tied as a given to the conventions of the scholarly voice. If anything, this intensifies the question of the mode of the self-reflexive voice, all the more so when creative and reflexive voices are merged in a single output.
Here, fundamental stylistic choices attendant upon the fiction play out into the ficto-reflexive elements. In the writing of The Ghosting of Anne Armstrong, basic discursive positionings have had to be negotiated and renegotiated to accommodate the embedding of the research as process and reflection. Each of the sections in this article taken from that work in progress – only brief snapshots of the reflexive strand sustained throughout the work, where the effect is naturally amplified – is told from a different point of view to illustrate the changes the internalised commentary has undergone: one approach presents the researcher/narrator in the third person, a fictional third person which then modulates in another into a fictional first person when the third felt too distant. The effect in both modes gave something of a peek-a-boo feel to the text, as if the author were constantly peering around his creation to address the reader – an effect only emphasised by attempts to fictionalise it. In a later version, the first person became more overtly that of an actual authorial voice, adopting the mode dominant in the work of the geographers cited and translating the text into a form of creative nonfiction; much of the necessary uncanniness of the writing was lost in this ‘literal’ mode however, leading to the current (perhaps not finalised) use of the second person, where the destabilising effect this point of view has on notions of subjectivity is particularly useful in moving across, and blurring the distance between, the reflective and creative voices.
Such experiments with point of view are a given in the fiction-writing process, speaking to the overtly constructed nature of the narrator as a device; as an element of the creative project focused upon the research informing that project, however, the question of the appropriate voice for the researcher draws attention to the fact that in a discrete reflective commentary too, the ‘author’ is equally a construct, a device, a medium for a particular form of discourse. Whether the ‘self-reflection’ accompanying a practice research project is in a supplementary form or integral to the creative work, practical decisions as to its rhetorical positioning will always apply. One of the advantages of embedding the reflective voice within the fiction is that it is then, explicitly or implicitly, presented not only as a discursive construct, but as an embodying of the way the creative work has come into being – a lived enactment, if you will, of the research process and the questions driving it.
Is staging research and practice as an integral part of each other enough to demonstrate that the project has addressed ‘clearly-articulated research questions, issues or problems, set in a clear context of other research in that area’, as per the Arts and Humanities Research Council’s Definition of Research (2015)? This is a challenge to the practice researcher, but it is a challenge that needs to be recognised and taken into account by the administrators of research and the broader research environment, so that is understood as a valid form of ‘investigation leading to new insights, effectively shared’ (Arts and Humanities Research Council 2015).
Attempting to make the case for The Ghosting of Anne Armstrong as an ‘appropriate research method and/or approach’ (Arts and Humanities Research Council 2015) in and of itself continues to be a guiding concern in the writing of this work in progress. The real test of its success will be if the fiction manages to both pose and respond to its implicit, informing research questions – can one represent the past without simply appropriating it to one’s own position; is Anne’s story re-created in such a way as to allow its full strangeness to challenge authorial attempts at ‘knowing’ or ‘mastering’ it. And success on these terms must be determined on the basis, not of the writerly voice or the reflective one , but on whether, in the end, it is Anne herself who has the last word in her story.
 See PRO, ASSI 45/10/3/34 - ASSI 45/10/55 (‘Forster, Anne, etc...’ 1934-1955), The National Archives, Kew, for the original depositions, and James Raine, Depositions in the Castle of York Relating to Offences Committed in the Northern Counties in the Seventeenth Century (Raine 1861) for the transcriptions of these documents. return to text
This useful document, which provides good guidance on practice-led funding, was until recently still available on the AHRC website under ‘Archived Opportunities.’ It has since been removed, but its key points on how research should relate to practice still hold. return to text
 The Research Excellence Framework (REF) is the system for assessing the quality of research in UK universities and higher education colleges (see: https://www.ref.ac.uk/). This major exercise is undertaken roughly every 6 years by the UK higher education funding bodies, and is discussed at more length in ‘On Reflection: the role, mode and medium of the reflective component in practice as research,’ an article co-authored by Tony Williams and myself published in TEXT, April 2018. return to text
 All quotations are from the podcast of Brown’s address, Different Perspectives: Talk 3. This event gave an opportunity for researchers, practitioners and research managers to explore new ways in which practice research is extending, and to influence broader agendas around assessment, funding and impact in a period of constant change. return to text
 In addition to the texts noted, I engaged in a series of email exchanges with Professors Sharpe and Rushton between 2011 and 2017. My thanks to them both. return to text
 I recognise that this exercise in reflecting on the notion of an integrated, informing mode of reflexion in so non-integrated, discursively discrete a way goes against the very points I’ve tried to make in this article. If a final endnote may be permitted to undo or erase the argument in which it appears, this will be on the basis of the finalised creative work holding up reflexively as a research strategy in itself. With the main edifice in place, this scaffolding can then be removed. return to text
Arts and Humanities Research Council 2015 ‘Definition of Research 2015’, Research Funding Guide: http://www.ahrc.ac.uk/funding/research/researchfundingguide/introduction/definitionofresearch/ (accessed 3 April 2015) return to text
Arts and Humanities Research Council (nd) ‘Support for Practice-led research through our Research Grants - practice-led and applied route (RGPLA)’, Research Funding Guide: http://www.ahrc.ac.uk/funding/opportunities/archived-opportunities/researchgrantspracticeledandapplied/ (accessed 8 November 2012) return to text
Ashmore, P, R Craggs & H Neate 2012 ‘Working-with: talking and sorting in personal archives’, Journal of Historical Geography 38: 81-89 return to text
Atkinson, T 1975a ‘Pub where the devil pulls a pint’, The Journal (15 April): 6 return to text
Atkinson, T 1975b ‘Smoke from the witches’ revels’, The Journal (16 April): 6 return to text
Batty, C & DL Brien (eds) 2017 TEXT Special Issue: The Exegesis Now 44 (October): http://www.textjournal.com.au/speciss/issue44/content.htm (accessed 11 November 2017) return to text
Brown, B 2015 ‘Different Perspectives: Talk 3 – The Future of Practice Research’, Symposium held at Goldsmiths, University of London, hosted in partnership with HEFCE. Podcast: https://futurepracticeresearch.files.wordpress.com/2015/08/the-future-of-practice-research-bruce-brown-design-pro-vice-chancellor-for-research-university-of-brighton.wav (accessed 21 August 2017) return to text
DeSilvey, C 2007 ‘Salvage memory: constellating material histories on a hardscrabble homestead’, Cultural Geographies 14: 401-424 return to text
Dwyer, C & G Davies 2010 ‘Qualitative methods III: animating archives, artful interventions and online environments’, Progress in Human Geography 34: 88-97 return to text
Finlay, L & B Gough (eds) 2003 Reflexivity: A Practical Guide for Researchers in Health and Social Sciences, Blackwell, Oxford return to text
‘Forster, Anne; Aynesley, Michael; Aynesley, Margaret; Makepeace, Jane; Dobson, Jane; Parteis, Ann; Thompson, Isabel; Johnson, Isabel; Baites, Jane; Watson, Thomasine; Marshall, Jane; et al’ (1934-1955), PRO, ASSI 45/10/3/34 - ASSI 45/10/55, The National Archives, Kew return to text
Green, M & T Williams 2018 ‘On Reflection: the role, mode and medium of the reflective component in practice as research,’ TEXT Journal 22, 1 (April): http://textjournal.com.au/april18/green_williams.htm (accessed 9 October 2018) return to text
Harris, V 2000 Exploring Archives: An Introduction to Archival Ideas and Practice in South Africa, National Archives of South Africa, Pretoria return to text
Haseman, B & D Mafe 2009 ‘Acquiring Know-How: Research Training for Practice-led Researchers’, in H Smith & RT Dean (eds) Practice-led Research, Research-led Practice in the Creative Arts, EUP, Edinburgh: 211-228 return to text
Kroll, J 2004 ‘The Exegesis and the Gentle Reader/Writer’, TEXT Special Issue No 3 (April): http://textjournal.com.au/speciss/issue3/kroll.htm (accessed 19 August 2017) return to text
Lorimer, H 2005 ‘Cultural geography: the busyness of being “more-than-representational”’, Progress in Human Geography 29: 83-94 return to text
Lorimer, H 2009 ‘Caught in the Nick of Time: Archives and Fieldwork’, in D DeLyser, S Aitken, MA Crang, S Herbert & L McDowell (eds) The SAGE Handbook of Qualitative Research in Human Geography, SAGE Publications, London: 248-273 return to text
Lorimer, J & S Whatmore 2009 ‘After the “king of beasts”: Samuel Baker and the embodied historical geographies of elephant hunting in mid-nineteenth century Ceylon’, Journal of Historical Geography 35: 668-689 return to text
Mantel, H 2004 ‘Some Girls Want Out’, London Review of Books 26, 5 (4 March): https://www.lrb.co.uk/v26/n05/hilary-mantel/some-girls-want-out (accessed 1 October 2018) return to text
Mills, S 2013 ‘Cultural-historical geographies of the archive: fragments, objects and ghosts’, Geography Compass 7, 10:701-713 return to text
Raine, J (ed) 1861 Depositions in the Castle of York Relating to Offences Committed in the Northern Counties in the Seventeenth Century, Volume XL, Surtees Society, Westminster return to text
REF2014 2012 ‘Panel criteria and working methods. Main Panel D criteria’, Research Excellence Framework 2014: http://www.ref.ac.uk/2014/media/ref/content/pub/panelcriteriaandworkingmethods/01_12_2D.pdf (accessed 21 August 2017) return to text
REF2014 2015 ‘Overview report by Main Panel D and Sub-panels 27 to 36’, Research Excellence Framework 2014: http://www.ref.ac.uk/2014/media/ref/content/expanel/member/Main%20Panel%20D%20overview%20report.pdf (accessed 21 August 2017)
Sharpe, JA 1997  Instruments of Darkness: Witchcraft in England,University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia return to text
Welsch, JT 2015 ‘“Critical Approaches to Creative Writing”: A Case Study.’ Writing in Practice Volume 1, National Association of Writers in Education, York: https://www.nawe.co.uk/DB/current-wip-edition-2/articles/critical-approaches-to-creative-writing-a-case-study.html (accessed 2 August 2015) return to text
Michael Green is Professor in English and Creative Writing at Northumbria University and Fellow of the University of KwaZulu-Natal. He is the author of Novel Histories: Past, Present, and Future in South African Fiction and numerous journal articles and book chapters. As Michael Cawood Green he has published two works of historical fiction, Sinking: A Verse Novella and For the Sake of Silence for which he was awarded the Olive Schreiner Prize for Prose. His new novel, The Ghosting of Anne Armstrong (excerpts from which are used for illustrative purposes in this article) is due out in Spring 2019.
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Vol 22 No 2 October 2018
General Editor: Nigel Krauth. Editors: Julienne van Loon & Ross Watkins