At a time when successful novels have to be as thick as a farmhand's fist and academic texts need to be weighty to be considered weighty, it was a pleasure to read a slender volume sparkling with intriguing narratives and distinctive analysis. Less than 80 pages long, Oral History and Ageing is a participant observer's account of the parallel lives of two comparatively new fields of academic study.
When Peter Laslett, an unmentioned patron of the relationship between oral history and gerontology, published (in 1965) his paradigm-breaking book The World We Have Lost, his fellow historians cast lofty scorn on it. Opening as it does with a detailed account of the roles and relationships within a medieval baker's family – extended by apprentices and co-workers – he was turning history on its head. The Cambridge History Faculty of which he was a member were sure that their purpose was to create grand formulations of the lives of the rich, famous and powerful. Laslett saw that history was made by millions of citizens in the actions, patterns, beliefs, vagaries and visions of their everyday lives. The book made him an international figure; but despite his extraordinary canon of work in philosophy, history, sociology, demography and gerontology, his university never forgave him and denied him the professorship many other universities offered.
A decade later, Paul Thompson also wrote a seminal book. This time the thesis was that the stories, recollections, reflections and tales of ‘ordinary’ individuals' own past could provide authentic and valuable source material for piecing together the collective history of their lives. Historians again despised with relish the notion that such unreliable memoirs could be used as valid historical material, except as embellishment. The book, first published in 1978, was The Voice of the Past. Whilst Thompson was not the first to see the value of spoken material in this way, it was his conceptualisation that marked the recognised beginning of Oral History. The journal Oral History was founded in 1971 with Thompson as Editor and his doctoral student Joanna Bornat as Associate Editor.
This background is the connective tissue for the book under review. In it we see at least a modicum of the history of oral history being placed on record, along with samples of the product of its development. In their Introduction, Joanna Bornat and Josie Tetley draw attention to the common reliance of gerontologists and oral historians on the reminiscences of older people, the centrality of the interview as a research tool and the extensive use of the life history as a frame of reference. They also remind us that the Oral History Society was founded in 1969 and the British Society of Gerontology in 1971, but go on to claim that there have been few acknowledgements of each other's existence. The record does include early connections, such as the conference Joanna and I organised in London in 1981 and how this led to the appearance of a stream of articles on biographical studies of old age in this journal, Ageing & Society, during my 12 years as Founding Editor. Mention is made of others whose life history studies are now well known and respected, such as Peter Coleman, Bill Bytheway, Martin Kohli and the leading American gerontologist Robert Butler, who died in July 2010.
Despite these fruitful beginnings the two fields of study have remained largely separate. Joanna Bornat has been the most visible and industrious bridge between the two, working as actively in gerontology as in her primary field. So this book is in some ways an invitation to those who study ageing to see the richness of biographical analysis they all too often miss. Each of the following four chapters is written by a leading practitioner of oral history, as a primer to invite you into their world. First up is a beguiling piece from Paul Thompson drawing from his book with Elaine Bauer, Jamaican Hands Across the Sea. It explores the stories of Jamaican migrants to Britain and the ways in which they maintain family networks as part of their dream of returning to a sun-filled retirement of simplicity and identity. The essay is an exemplar of how to conduct honest and rigorous research and to present the results in an attractive and convincing style.
Alastair Thompson offers some lessons from oral history and uses his own research to illustrate how to negotiate the problems of recollection in old age, cultural and local influences, and the skills of interpretation. His Australian interviews, not surprisingly, reflect some of the migrant issues raised by Thompson. The first-person accounts are moving and telling. Graham Smith, another pillar of oral history, uses his long experience to map the methodological challenges presented by transactive memory (people remembering together), conflicting accounts and the unravelling of contributions from group interviews. He uses his own transcripts to illustrate how to handle these difficult issues. Finally, a reflection by Pam Schweitzer on her 25 years of recording the memories of old Londoners and the re-creation of these reminiscences into plays and performances. Her pioneering work became known as Reminiscence Theatre. Over many years she worked with indigenous Londoners and their memories of war and the introduction of the welfare state; and then with a wide range of ‘minorities’ – ethnic, religious, disabled and disaffected. The core of this remarkable work has been its capacity to give voice to the unheard and dignity to those who felt un-regarded.
For all its brevity this is a significant volume and one from which gerontological researchers can benefit greatly. It should provide a spur to closer connections between two important research traditions.
