Showing posts with label research. Show all posts
Showing posts with label research. Show all posts

Monday, December 29, 2025

Looking Back: Favorite Blog Posts of 2025

I have committed enough prose here this year that the process of looking back was actually helpful for me – and I hope it surfaces some things that you might find of interest. As a matter of practice, I throw some things up on the blog so I’m reminded of them later – a kind of outsourcing of the brain. There’s this, for instance:

Looking at age in convents is an interesting bit of demographic thinking that must have impacted the lived experiences of the sisters, even in an unenclosed convent like Thalbach. (Talbach? Thalbach? I’ve spent so much times in the documents that I forget how I came to decide which spelling to prefer! Yikes!) Anyway, if you’re curious about monastic experience, you can look at the data; if you’re more of a newbie to understanding the monastic life, this post on Initiation into Monastic Life gives some orientation to the topic.

Another thing that was fun this year was thinking about inner voices and outer voices; Margery Kempe is a good example of that:

This is a topic that still calls to my heart, especially since it’s the “bright shiny distraction” from the writing I’m doing in the moment, which is very much in the trenches shoveling of small details of practice based on nuances of text in the world of commemorations. But I digress.

The single most popular thing I wrote was another one of those exploratory pieces, thinking about archaeology of Chaco Canyon alongside the topography of Vorarlberg churches. It asks what it means to build for the ear, and not just the eye:

I’m glad this post “resonated.” (I’ll see myself out…) Seriously, though, that question of how sound moves through space is really interesting, and if it doesn’t wind up fitting the book outline, it probably needs to move into article form. AFTER the book, self, AFTER the book.

Then there’s the question of writing process. I’ve written several posts about writing this year, a kind of meta-reflection on one way to get it done. I don’t believe in the One True Path to productivity – you do you – but I do believe we’re all a bit better off if we share our tricks for how to make that writing, and particularly scholarly writing, work. For example, how do you let things go and get to your primary focus? Enter, stage left, the research question:

This tool is helpful; it provides focus and helps winnow down to the core of an argument, particularly if your “just one more” meter is set as high as mine.

Then there are the practical details. This list of links is one I’ve pinned, for obvious reasons, so if you’re needing a quick where-to-go in the manuscript and incunable space, this is my first attempt to get things out of my overburdened bookmarks folder and up into navigable space. Kinda like the old web. Nostalgia as tool?

Sometimes you post when your passions take you away. “In Praise of Janky Translations” is both about what I think important in a push-back against perfection, and about how translation and text prediction occupy very different spaces. It captures my voice pretty darned well, I think, and captures a moment of tech outrage that is my contribution to the “STOP PUTTING AI IN EVERYTHING” conversation.

I’m not anti-AI in the big picture, but it clearly, CLEARLY, does not belong in the translation tool in the form it took here. No, no, no. Just don’t.

And last, but not least, I’ll end with a post that reflects a practical exercise, one that still sits in my heart as one of the better things I’ve invented this year. I decided to make a gratitude list, with as many items as I am years old. It was a good exercise, and one I recommend to you as we close out the year that was.

Happy New Year, everyone! May the words come...

Saturday, December 13, 2025

In praise of janky translations: an anti-google diatribe

Once upon a time as recently as yesterday, I lived in a world in which Google Translate was an imperfect but useful tool. I could ask it my best guess of what someone had said to me, and it would spit out a decent explantion of what we were talking about. I could point my phone camera at a wall-label in a museum, and out would come the information I was reading about in a language I can speak. This all was incredibly useful, particularly on my Asian trip last summer.

Another thing I happened to use Google Translate for was as a short-cut in my research. Now, I’ve been trained up with the best of them. I know that looking at the original language of, say, a medieval charter is the best and most accurate way to understand that document’s meaning. Nevertheless, when working at volume, it can be handy to skim, and while I can get in the groove with modern German, my medieval Alemannic dialect reading is slower-paced. If I want a really fast assessment of something, there’s nothing like my native tongue, which is English, as you’ve probably guessed by now.

So, when looking over the roughly 200 charters relevant to the current chapter, I’ve been going through them quickly via google translate to see if there’s utility in doing the close-up work of line-by-line and word-by-word reading. About one out of every 5 will have a topic of particular interest. I can skim a 69-line whole-side-of-a-cow sized parchment charter in its janky English translation in about 10 minutes. I can read said document directly in something more like 45 minutes.

Let’s think about the math:

  • To skim English: 10x200 = 2,000 minutes, or roughly 30 hours of reading.
  • To read medieval Alemannic: 45x200=9,000, or roughly 150 hours of reading

Okay, I’ll even be fair; add back another 20 hours for going through the targeted documents in detail and I’m still looking at the difference between 50 hours of work and 150 hours of work.

Why am I heated up about this topic? Well, they broke google translate last night.

Let me say that again, with all the feels:

THEY BROKE GOOGLE TRANSLATE LAST NIGHT.

I have receipts, of course. I’m going to share just one, because it’s been a long and stressful day this morning (bwahaha).

Here’s a clause out of one of my documents:

3. brieff Alsz dann der vorgemelt keb hailig Santgall unnser hußsatter Jarlichen ain Suma gebt Im den vigrechten der gestifften Jorlichen Jarzeten

Here’s its translation, as of yesterday:

3. Furthermore, the aforementioned abbey of Saint Gall, our patron, shall pay annually a sum to the vicar for the proper observance of the established annual memorial services.

Usable, right? Tells me the basics of what’s going on. Is it elegant? No. Is it fully accurate? Also no. It is, I think we’d all agree, a janky translation. (Oxford definition of janky: “of extremely poor or unreliable quality.”).

But here’s the thing: this janky translation is USABLE. It tells me whether or not this is a place I want to spend some of my precious minutes. I mean, I like down time just like everyone else; these translations are a shortcut!

But no, it wasn’t getting enough time-on-the-page, I guess, so Google “improved” (and I use that word with scare quotes for a reason, so be scared, be very very scared) its translation tool. Let’s look at the result, shall we?

3. When the aforementioned [name omitted], the [name omitted], gives our [name omitted] an annual sum in accordance with the established annual [terms omitted].

This is predictive technology gone bad. The AI underpinning here is obvious. The “improved” tool is happy to predict anything that’s sort of standard in a regular document of this type. But all, all, ALL of the interesting details are now redacted. Because names, and places, and specific amounts of money are NOT predictable. So I guess we shouldn’t need to see them, eh? Because everything useful in life is predictable. (Mad, me mad? Whatever do you mean???)

And this, this is what they’re calling the “classic” version of the tool. Not that it bears any resemblance to what the tool was doing yesterday, of course. But it’s a handy marketing ploy for a company that clearly Does Not Give A Shit about the user experience. The advanced version, well, it simply redacted lines 6 to 9 of my document altogether since those are just like line 5, a list of payments to particular chaplains.

But MY study is looking (in part) at exactly that. I need to know how much more the parish priest gets than the altarist at the St Mang altar. It’s part of my evidence. And it changes over time. Oh, which makes it unpredictable.

So when we premise translations on what words mean, we get one kind of information. Yesterday, I might argue with whether the “Mesner” was better translated as a “sacristan” or a “sexton.”

In the land of predictive AI, however, we premise translations on what other texts think might come next, and that means skipping the “minutiae.” The result? I can no longer tell from the translation that the Mesner, whatever his role might be, was even present in the document. A bad translation is something I can argue with; a predictive omission is something I can’t even see.

This is arguably great if you’re translating prose. It’s an absolute disaster if you’re looking at legal records and payments and guidelines for the foundations. Those kinds of documents are actually designed to deliver the very small, unpredictable details that AI wants to suppress. They are accounting devices, legal instruments, and memory machines. It’s like AI trying to tell you what flavor of icecream is your favorite based on other people’s orders. It has absolutely, positively no idea of what *you* might want, but that won’t stop it trying, using that oh-so-confident voice, though.

Janky, bad translations, in other words, are part of my world of work. They have a use. They may be inelegant, but their very bumps and hiccups are pointers to the curious oddity. They keep the text visible as a text. As a user, I still see names, sums, offices, altars, weird textual repetitions – the very things that are likely innovations in this particular textual example. Predictive smoothing, by contrast, is a lie of fluency. It gives you the shape of a charter without its substance. To put it another way, jankiness is epistemologically honest. It doesn’t pretend to understand more than it does.

Cory Doctorow has brought us the concept of “enshittification,” the reality that a captured audience is merely monetary potential to the big firms that think they own our data. And yes, this update is truly, truly, truly the enshittified version of what a translator is supposed to do. In fact, from where I’m sitting, this is not even translation anymore. It’s instead content abstraction masquerading as translation. A translator is accountable to the source text; a predictive model is accountable to statistical plausibility. In fact, I have trouble communicating just how BAD it is at the job it was perfectly adquate at yesterday, but you get the general gist.

And the reality is that an enshittified product is pretty much what you’re stuck with from here on out, unless Google changes its mind, and rolls back to yesterday’s model.

Happily for me, I can, in fact, read my texts. I have access to good dictionaries, and I do subscribe to DeepL for toggling languages with modern German. (DeepL struggles *hard* with Alemannic, but then, don’t we all?). And in a pinch, ChatGPT actuall does a decent job with the odd sentence or two.

But the fact that yesterday was easy, and today my tool is broken? This is the way of this tech-heavy world of ours. Because yesterday’s Google Translate assumed that you were the expert deciding what mattered. Today’s assumes the model knows better. That’s not just frustrating; it’s a quiet and very, very creepy reordering of authority in knowledge production. Scholars of thin archives (like the ones I work on in Bregenz, Austria and in Bischofszell, Switzerland) are exactly the ones who lose when the world (or the tech-companies) decides that unpredictability is noise. Because the unpredictable is often where the truth lies.

Sunday, November 30, 2025

Manuscript and incunable research links

This listing reflects my “frequently consulted” list of resources for manuscript and incunable research as I’m working on a medieval/early modern house of tertiaries, Thalbach in Bregenz, Vorarlberg, Austria. My aim in compiling this list of links is not to be systematic, but rather utilitarian, since I’m now frequently across browsers and even computers, and want “my” link list all in one place. There is a strong bias toward vernacular German / Austrian resources, since Vorarlberg was linked sometimes to Bavaria, sometimes to Tyrol and Innsbruck, and always to the broader Bodensee orbit.

Though I don’t claim “coverage” of digital resources, I did want my list to be useful to others, so I’ve done a few things. I’ve grouped it in clusters that might help a new researcher get started. I’ve tried to provide a brief explanation of what a resource is, and sometimes provided a “jump in” link that let’s you navigate more quickly to a search page.

I’m certainly open to adding further resources as they come to my attention, and invite your contributions. You can reach me at my vanderbilt.edu email (cynthia.cyrus “at”…) with suggestions.


Navigation


Manuscripts, Works, & Catalogues


UMBRELLA SITES FOR DIGITIZED MANUSCRIPTS

  • Manuscripta.at – digitized manuscripts from Austria: https://manuscripta.at/digitalisate.php
  • e-codices – Virtual Manuscript Library of Switzerland https://www.e-codices.unifr.ch/en/
  • KdiH – German-language illustrated manuscripts of the Middle Ages: https://kdih.badw.de/datenbank/start
  • Siân Echartd, Medieval Manuscripts on the Web – guide to online manuscript resources (scroll down for location-based listings) https://sianechard.ca/web-pages/medieval-manuscripts-on-the-web/
  • Open Culture – list of 160,000 medieval manuscripts online https://www.openculture.com/2020/12/160000-medieval-manuscripts-online-where-to-find-them.html
  • Mechthild transmission Study (MMMMO) – Overview of manuscript transmission of Liber specialis gratiae https://zfdg.de/2024_002

  • FRAGMENTS


    INCUNABLES


    CALENDARS & SAINTS


    Nuns' Libraries (Projects)


    MEMORIA

    Ottosen, Responsories of the Latin Office of the Dead (a reformulated version of the database undergirding his doctoral thesis, The Responsories and Versicles of the Latin Office of the Dead, https://www.cantusplanus.de/databases/Ottosen/index.html

    Hugener, Buchführung für die Ewigkeit, Totengedenken, Verschriftlichung und Traditionsbildung im Spätmittelalter, https://play.google.com/books/reader?id=rgVMDAAAQBAJ&hl=en


    Early Modern Vorarlberg Resources

    Let me know if this was useful. And, to navigate back around the page, here's that navigation list again:

    Sunday, August 24, 2025

    Using Research Questions -- Defeat data-hoarding and discard the chaff!

    In many ways, I am a data-dragon. I like to collect a lot of “just plain information” about a thing, hoarding up data-points like that mouse pressing the lever for “just-one-more” bits of pleasure, and ignoring the grander work of feeding (or contextualizing) my work. This is genius in the research phase; I’m really good at ferreting out significant and interesting quirks of past practice.

    That skill is, however, less helpful when it comes time to “write a scholarly article” phase of existence.

    Alas and alack, people don’t just want to hear about “cool stuff I found.” Instead, we scholars are expected to tie those interesting observations into meaningful interpretations, both in dialogue with the scholarly conversation and in the intellectual heavy-lifting of meaning-making as a historical act. We don’t just get to be antiquarians, building out a collection of items from the past, but are required instead to be curators, interpreting and signposting the important elements of the array of information and how they connect to the bigger conversations of the discipline.

    So how does one decide what parts of the research findings just belong to the “cool stuff” stack, and what is going to make the case for a scholarly argument? The answer lies in the research question.

    Research questions don’t just lie around like pebbles on a beach. They too are part of that intellectual work that one does, going from topic and bibliography to outline and prose. If implemented early on, they can save a lot of extraneous work by showing which threads of the investigative fabric are not going to fit into the finished garment. A good research question shows what’s necessary to the scholarly argument, and what deserves to be put into the “trash” folder. (Sob. Even though it’s inherently interesting.) Deciding what NOT to say is a real skill as a scholar.

    What makes a good research question? 

    Well, first of all, it’s answerable with the evidence available (or reachable within a timely fashion). It’s all well and good to talk about spirituality as a driver in memorial donations, but if you don’t actually have any surviving indications of spirituality in the documents that come down from that institution or town, you probably need to revisit your question.

    Likewise, the research question should be specific but significant. While I may personally be interested in “what memorial endowments were established in fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Bregenz,” the likelihood of other readers caring is … low, very low. There aren’t any stakes – no doorknobs to the literature, no sense of why Bregenz matters beyond itself, nor how these endowments help us understand bigger themes. One can also err (as students often do) by being too broad. “How did memorial endowments shape religious life in late medieval and early modern Europe?” If I chose to take on something that broad, I’d have to wait and get back to you a decade from now.

    A good research question facilitates connections to the literature, engaging with what’s been done, and -- especially happily -- with what hasn’t been done. Finding gaps and spaces for the “yes-and…” of scholarly contribution is a part of the gig. In the abstract, that kind of work is reflected in the allusions to scholarship. The research question typically implies a particular scholarly space inhabited by peers. For me, that’s often an intersectional space, where two subsets of scholarship come together to illuminate one another in exciting ways.

    To that end, the research question moves thinking away from the descriptive (what happened / what endowments were founded in this time) toward the more stimulating landscape of the analytical. What does this case show us? Why were some endowments copied near-verbatim by other parishioners, and others just sit out there as onesies, a single unreplicated idea about how a memorial should function?

    Finally, a good research question strikes a balance between being open-ended but inviting a (somewhat) complicated answer. There needs to be a need for an argument, in other words. “Did medieval Bregenz citizens use music in their memorial endowments?” “Yes.” Somehow, that didn’t make word count.

    So where does that leave me? 

    My current working research question is this:

    What role did sound, song, and graveside ritual play in establishing memorial endowments as legitimate forms of leadership giving in fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Bregenz?

    Does it pass the smell test?

    1) answerable with the evidence available: yes, I have several dozen examples of endowments focused around two case studies that could be used in this investigation.

    2) specific but significant: There’s a claim to be made about historical leadership giving that (to my eye) illuminates both the musicological assessment of memoria AND tests the theories of charitable giving currently in circulation through historical case studies...

    3) facilitates connections to the literature: and in that way facilitates scholarly engagement rather robustly

    4) moves from the descriptive toward the analytical: definitely requires some slice-and-dice assessment and some significant time to be spent teasing out the implications of “mere data points”

    5) Balances the open-ended and the complicated answer: Yup, there’s plenty of space to consider social nexus, posturing, leadership-followership dynamics, and so on. In fact, there’s so much space that I may need to tighten the question as I get through the writing.

    But for now, it means that many of those “onsies” endowments are off my plate. The literature on chaplains and performances? Also not strictly important here. (But that has a home in another study with a different question.) Institutional history of the parish church? Interesting only, perhaps, in passing.

    In other words, the research question is taking on its task as a winnowing device, separating the wheat from the chaff. Or perhaps, given the imagery with which I started, it is combing through my dragonish data-hoard, and teasing out the gems from the guff.

     

    IMAGES:


    QUICK FOLLOW-ALONG:

    Today I learned that “Fafner” (the sometimes-a-dragon with his hoard) and “faffing about” (wasting time or dithering by doing things in a disorganized or inefficient way) are not, in fact, related concepts. The OED tells us that the verb “faff” is attested in 1788, in the writing of William Marshall, agricultural writer and land agent. Neither data-hording like a Fafner nor faffing about inefficiently are helpful when you’re faced with a writer’s deadline. Use the research question to solve both problems!


    Saturday, April 5, 2025

    Managing Bibliography By Spreadsheet

    In this post, I walk through how I structure and use a bibliography spreadsheet—from initial setup to prioritization, assessment strategies, and color-coded insights. Whether you’re in the thick of a new project or trying to wrangle a pile of PDFs into something coherent, this system can help you turn “reading” into actual, visible progress.

    INTRO: WHY SPREADSHEETS

    Smart people all over academe swear by their own choice of bibliographic tools. Zotero. Mendeley, EndNote: citation managers of all sorts are lovely. But that’s not how I work anymore. EndNote once ate my close-to-a-thousand item listing, and while I got most of it back due to my back-up diligence, it took me untold frustrating hours and permanently pissed me off. And Zotero doesn’t appreciate my multiple identities. Wait, which account am I logged in on? Let’s just say, I have developed serious trust issues on the software front.

    Thus, I’m a spreadsheet fan. Give me that good, old-fashioned, sortable, controllable overview of what I’m doing, hosted on my home device, and I’m a happy camper. (By which I mean happy scholar; happy camper is NEXT weekend!)

    It’s true, I have to remember which spreadsheet had what. And I’m at the edges of managing all the things for the next book, with nested sheets and a sense that I’d better plan a weekend retreat to review it all. But, article-wise, there’s nothing like a spreadsheet to give you a sense of your bibliography!

    If you want to focus on how to shape the content of your bibliography, I got a start at describing my technique in my post on jump-starting a scholarly article. Here I  focus on what to do once you have a sense of what you want to read. I borrowed some of my approach from Raul Pacheco-Vega, https://www.raulpacheco.org/, and if you like reading about approaches to scholarship you should absolutely subscribe to him. He’s brilliant at sharing how he works, and his approach is enough like mine that I browse there regularly to see if I want to include any recent posts in my course reading-lists.

    SET UP THE SPREADSHEET (AND READING PLAN)

    My approach to article bibliography starts with mechanics. I open a spreadsheet (for me, LibreOffice has been working, though I will often import to Microsoft Office for sorting purposes later in the process). I generally name the file with at least two elements: a one or two word title, plus the designation “_30day” to remind me that this is the go-fast assessment of the literature.

    Sample Filenames

    Why 30 days? Well, a 30-day reading challenge is bite-sized. We can typically pledge to find at least 20 minutes for 30 consecutive days, and if you take 20 minutes a day every day to say, “what is this thing and why is it important,” you can build up a picture of your area pretty quickly. So, I generally target having 30 items to start, and then add to it as I work through my reading. (To keep my momentum, I treat books as a series of chapters, and each chapter is an “item” on the spreadsheet. Your mileage may vary.)

    Why a consistent naming element like _30day? Well, “Bibliography” tends to get overused elsewhere in my life – other people’s bibliography PDFs download that way; students send me bibliographies all the time for this project or that one. Nobody sends me documents labeled _30day – so searching on it in my hard drive makes it easy to find!

    So now you have a named file, and a pile of bibliography to enter. I plug the full citation into the spreadsheet, one per row, properly formatted to your preferred style. I’m a modified Chicago practitioner, myself; I keep the city for book citations, for instance, since some journals require it and others prohibit it – I clean that sort of thing up at the “final proofing” stage. And I’m forever forgetting WHERE the page references come for an article in a collection so I know I’ll have to fix that later too. The point is to get the details in so you’ve got them to hand.

    And then, I add the “working columns” for the bibliography. Here’s my header list from a recent project, columns A through R:

        • Author, Year, Priority, Status, Citation    
        • Author's Big Idea, Gap They Fill, Paper Sections
        • evidence 1, evidence 2, evidence 3, evidence 4
        • quote 1, quote 2, quote 3, quote 4, other,
        • cited works, abstract from elsewhere

    If you want, you can download a copy of the 30day spreadsheet template .

    As you can see, some columns want to be wide, and others can be relatively narrow to start. I do a mix of word-wrapping and letting the text trail off into invisibility as I go; I toggle those features regularly as I’m working with my sheet. But setting things up gets me ready to make visible progress, and I’m a sucker for having my work show-as-I-go. Yay, dopamine.

    WORK THE LIST

    The good news is that the first part of working the list is easy to do. This is a great end-of-day or start-of-day activity since it doesn’t require much brainpower. Take the first columns -- Author, Year, Priority, Status, Citation – and plug them in. I find author and year sorting to be useful, though technically you could manage that with the Citation column. But that lets me do Author/Date placeholders as I write, and translate easily to full citation. It works for me.

    Prioritizing is up to you. I tend to choose a number from 5 (read first!) to 1 (read when I get there). I might have 7 “read first” assignments, but that just means that it will get done in that first week’s pass.

    Status, on the other hand, is a management tool. I’ve evolved my own shorthand if it’s helpful:  
    • HAVE means it’s a PDF in my file-folder or notes in a file somewhere.
    • DONE means I’ve actually assessed it.
    • READ ME means I’ve assessed it and want to look at it more closely.
    • NOT means I’ve read it and it isn’t right for the current project.
    • ILL-Date means I placed an order for it.
    • FETCH means I need to head to the library to grab that thing.
    • A blank in that space means I have some bibliographic hunting to do to get on top of it; that often happens with new citations at the bottom of the list. I save those for brain-dead time.
    • AGAIN means my brain wasn’t up to it this time, and I should come back to it later.

    ASSESS THE ITEM: AIC READING

    AIC reading – Abstract, Introduction, and Conclusion – is the law of the land. Seriously, we diligent types were taught to read things in order. But, and here comes a HUGE caveat, reading in order is NOT the best way to get the info to stick. Instead, move around the article or book chapter with abandon.

    Start by reading the abstract. What does it claim it’s going to do? Then, read the intro, or the first 3-5 paragraphs if the item lacks subheaders. What’s the context, what’s the author’s stated task, what’s the thesis? Then flip to the conclusion: what’s the big claim and why does it matter?

    Generally, I recommend performing an AIC, and then going back and filling out the next couple of columns: Author's Big Idea, Gap They Fill, Paper Sections. (I’m serious about the paper sections – you don’t have to quote the author’s subtitles, but give the gist of how they divvy up their information. Your later search strategies will thank you.) Each of these is telling you where they are trying to fit into the scholarly conversation, and also what will be useful for you in situating your own work.

    This is not a “read every word” process. Be one with that.

    By now, you’ll have spent somewhere between ten and twenty minutes on your item. Urgent class prep pressing? Household tasks such as making and eating food on the necessary list? Then you can pause and put a pin in it. Change your HAVE to DONE or NOT or, very rarely, AGAIN – that last a designation to tell you to come back to it, perhaps with another cup of coffee in your system. This is progress, and progress is good.

    READ FOR THE EVIDENCE

    Once you have time, move on to a more detailed assessment. Even this may be a “skim” more than a “read deeply.” Remember my status column? Part of the overview of the literature is designed to tell me which of the items I want to prioritize for full reading. They get a “READ ME” status until I’ve got an afternoon slot or a morning coffee work-cycle to spend the hour or two to work through details. So your task at this stage is to figure out how the author is working and what they have to say, and with what tools.

    For this stage, I tend to flop through once, with an eye for what each paragraph is doing. Is it documentary? Analytical? Critical-theory based? This information will presumably marry up with the article sections you’ve already reviewed, and now you’re learning more deeply what this particular contribution is offering. As I go, I make comments on the evidence used and on quotes I may want to integrate in my own writing later on.

    This is a kind of quick-and-dirty notetaking, but I’m careful to put quotes around quoted material or key phrases, and to put my initials in front of material that I am saying in response to that bit of the  reading. Here’s a typical entry:

    Bijsterveld says: “inalienable objects”… “they symbolize or represent owners… their power and virtues.” (Bijsterveld 2007, p. 86). Of these, Bijsterveld lists arms, jewellery, crowns and regalia, relics, precious and holy books, objects connected with princely descent, costly textiles, precious materials, names, stories, sagas, etc: CJC SAYS: all get their power from associative knowledge – the relational ties of donor/recipient, and the meaning of the context, not the object itself.
    (Bijsterveld, Arnoud-Jan A. Do ut des: Gift Giving, Memoria, and Conflict Management in the Medieval Low Countries, Middeleeuwse Studies en Bronnen CIV (Hilversum: Verloren, 2007), Ch 4)

    Is it eloquent prose? No. Does it get the content across in ways I can mentally access it again? You bet. This is the quick-and-dirty approach. Writing will emerge from this, but this is only a single stone in the creek-crossing of knowledge-building. You’re going to need to heft several of these before the path forward emerges – so don’t get too wrapped up in getting it perfect; focus on getting it down.

    How do I note-take at this point? This is the joy of the spreadsheet. I toggle back and forth from evidence to quote and back again. Occasionally, an item will be SO rich that it actually gets a second row in my spreadsheet, but mostly those go into the READ ME and get their own “document” with notes and responses. How do I decide? Mood of the moment, really. And, I always try to leave enough keyword info in the spreadsheet that a term search will pull up the right set of articles.

    And then there are last two columns. If you had to choose 3 items from this person’s bibliography, which were the most important to them? I give a shorthand citation, unless I decide that I really need to read it too in which case it gets a short-hand reference in the right-hand column AND an entry in my own citation column. And, I cut-and-paste the abstract in if it’s convenient. About a quarter to a third of items wind up with abstracts cut in.

    MANAGE INFORMATION: COLORS AND COLUMNS

    But wait, there’s more. One of the habits I’ve developed that keeps me moving forward quickly is the use of color. As I take notes, I find that certain things leap out as important to my own argument. Those cells become green. There are others that need more thought, or might apply, or make me mad in one of those “that’s not it” sorts of ways that helps clarify what I am thinking. Those become yellow (or if urgent, orange), because I want to come back to them and sit with the idea some more. I’ve sometimes used urgent red to get my attention the next work cycle or to track through inter-library loan until that issue is resolved. But mostly, my spreadsheet is green, yellow/orange, or void.
     
    Excerpt from a Shakespeare-related 30-day bibliography for a conference paper, showing the use of color
     


    The orange cell here actuall included 4 things: a quote, a cross reference to another scholar, my own thoughts, and the details of what I needed to track down for my argument.

    Dr Johnson: "The meek sorrows and virtuous distress of Catherine have funished some scenes which may justly numbered among the greatest efforts of tragey. But the genius of Shakepseare comes in and goes out with Catherine. Every other part may be easily conceived, and easily written." Perhaps per Hannah Pritchard, recreated role annually at Drury lane 1752-1761. CJC: the long popularity of the play in performance speaking against its relative neglect by critics. (Rep of Sarah Siddons, helen Faucit, Ellen Terry, Ellen Tree, Charlotte Cushman. Bowers p. 29-30)  Similarly, the XXX thatcher and gooch suggest that the play is more amenable to the sounding and staged interpretations than the literary ones.

    (Bowers, A. Robin. 1988.  "'The Merciful Construction of Good Women': Katherine of Aragon and Pity in Shakespeare's King Henry VIII." Christianity and Literature 37, no. 3 (1988): 29-51.)

    You’ll notice the typos (ewwww, typos) and the short-hand; notes are not prose! Think of your notes as an action item, a step on the way toward actual argument. Don't polish the stone -- it just needs to get you across the stream.

    A second add-on tool is the “additional column” trick. As I’m working with a given topic, it can be handy to group the bibliography in various ways. For the prayers-before-an-icon article that I’m currently researching, for instance, I added both a “category” column and a “statue” column to my spreadsheet so that I can group all the “gesture” bibliography, or take a look at everything that includes statues as a part of their evidence. These are functional project-based bibliographies, and infinitely adaptable to need.

    WHY SPREADSHEETS

    And that brings us to why I spreadsheet to begin with. I don’t always, to be honest. My kazoo project (ahem, yes, I have a kazoo project) is a long 20-plus page document file with notes intermingled with the citations. 

     But when I want a quick overview, or when I’m trying to ready myself for writing, I’ll often back-migrate my information into spreadsheet format. The act of adding keywords or search terms serves as part of my self-discipline, a guarantee that I really actively review my information, and don’t just look at it. You know, the way one “looks” at things.

    Passing your eyes over something is different than acting on it, and the spreadsheet, with its columns and colors, retyped sub-headers and great one-liners, ensures that my reading stays active. It is true that the cut-and-paste of bibliography across projects can get clunky, since some will have an extra two columns, and others five, and others none. Making sure the data align *is* a pain in the neck.

    But that’s easy work, whereas accountability is hard work. Spreadsheets for me are a tool of accountability, both to what scope I want to have myself have read, and to what speed with which I want to get this project done.

    And if you find a tool that hits your dopamine receptors on a regular basis to encourage you to do more of it, in a scholarly-productive way? Keep using that tool, whatever it is! For me, it’s spreadsheets for the win!


    RESOURCES

    Cynthia Cyrus, "How To Jump-Start a Scholarly Article: The Plan," Silences And Sounds [Blog], March 22, 2025, https://silencesandsounds.blogspot.com/2025/03/how-to-jump-start-scholarly-article-plan.html

    30-day reading list template:  https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1kx8olonvggdhQk2SK7NuP8_VzRViR39Fhzb-bqPsypI/copy

    Raul Pacheco-Vega website https://www.raulpacheco.org/blog/ , and especially his resources page https://www.raulpacheco.org/resources/ 

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