Books, like museums, are always an adventure - some more rewarding than others; some harder work than others. As Francis Bacon rightly notes, "Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested… some books are to be read only in parts. […] Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others […]."
Dear reader, on this occasion I assure you that I have laboured hard on your behalf. Securing the Past is no easy journey - it has dense jungles of language, narrow paths of academic debate and soaring cliffs of incomprehension, at times illuminated by only a flickering torch.
Its author, Paul Eggert, is the professor of English at the University of New South Wales. His specialism is scholarly editing - "the recovery of the corrupted texts of literary works and historical documents from the past". His aim in this book is to explore whether the methods and ideas that are key tools in his own work can be "mapped to the other restoration arts".
It's an interesting premise and one that he pursues earnestly and vigorously. But wait a moment - restoration arts? Setting aside a question begged about the use of the word arts, the subtitle of the book contains the word "conservation". Soon Eggert talks of preservation. The title speaks of "securing the past". The language flip-flops with the frequency of the designation of an MP's second home.
"Practitioners no longer favour the term restoration," he writes dismissively in a footnote, "but the term's popular recognition and its capacity to extend metaphorically to literary works have counselled its adoption here." So there: teacher knows best.
But does he? Restoration and conservation are not one and the same - "practitioners no longer favour the term restoration", not because of some quirk of fashion, but because they are different actions. Good debate surely depends on good understanding. This looks like bending the rules of engagement before the discussion has even begun.
Nevertheless, Securing the Past does begin promisingly. There's even a rare touch of humour. "The cemetery gates are a real point of interest," he quotes from an unattributed guide to deserted gold mining towns in his home state. "One's heart sinks," he comments laconically.
The exposition of the debate around "how little or much ought to be done to old buildings - whether to preserve them as they are or restore them to some aesthetic standard or historical moment" is well set out and the case studies are well chosen.
They include Brodsworth Hall near Doncaster, which has been left (preserved might be the word here) as a found object, and Uppark House, a National Trust property in Hampshire that was damaged by fire in 1989 and subsequently, in Eggert's view, "embalmed". For me, Eggert is at his most comfortable, most readable, when talking about architectural conservation, restoration, even re-creation.
Soon, however, we are considering forgeries of aboriginal paintings, the authenticity of Rembrandts, the attribution of Shakespeare's plays, the editing of James Joyce's Ulysses - I am sinking while at the same time suffering from altitude sickness.
There's something of a patchwork quilt here - essays for other publications, lectures given in other places and for other audiences. At times there is a strong sense that the only people engaged in this conversation are an elite group of academics standing at the back.
By the time we have reached chapters with subheadings such as "Heidegger and conservation, and the French existentialist legacy" and "Whither away for the work? Peirce and Adorno", I'm looking for a quick way back to base camp.
This is a pity as there is more than enough in Eggert's theories to generate an interesting debate. But to get that discussion going we must first learn to use terminology that all sides respect and talk to each other in a language that we can all understand.
Timothy Mason is an arts and heritage consultant
Dear reader, on this occasion I assure you that I have laboured hard on your behalf. Securing the Past is no easy journey - it has dense jungles of language, narrow paths of academic debate and soaring cliffs of incomprehension, at times illuminated by only a flickering torch.
Its author, Paul Eggert, is the professor of English at the University of New South Wales. His specialism is scholarly editing - "the recovery of the corrupted texts of literary works and historical documents from the past". His aim in this book is to explore whether the methods and ideas that are key tools in his own work can be "mapped to the other restoration arts".
It's an interesting premise and one that he pursues earnestly and vigorously. But wait a moment - restoration arts? Setting aside a question begged about the use of the word arts, the subtitle of the book contains the word "conservation". Soon Eggert talks of preservation. The title speaks of "securing the past". The language flip-flops with the frequency of the designation of an MP's second home.
"Practitioners no longer favour the term restoration," he writes dismissively in a footnote, "but the term's popular recognition and its capacity to extend metaphorically to literary works have counselled its adoption here." So there: teacher knows best.
But does he? Restoration and conservation are not one and the same - "practitioners no longer favour the term restoration", not because of some quirk of fashion, but because they are different actions. Good debate surely depends on good understanding. This looks like bending the rules of engagement before the discussion has even begun.
Nevertheless, Securing the Past does begin promisingly. There's even a rare touch of humour. "The cemetery gates are a real point of interest," he quotes from an unattributed guide to deserted gold mining towns in his home state. "One's heart sinks," he comments laconically.
The exposition of the debate around "how little or much ought to be done to old buildings - whether to preserve them as they are or restore them to some aesthetic standard or historical moment" is well set out and the case studies are well chosen.
They include Brodsworth Hall near Doncaster, which has been left (preserved might be the word here) as a found object, and Uppark House, a National Trust property in Hampshire that was damaged by fire in 1989 and subsequently, in Eggert's view, "embalmed". For me, Eggert is at his most comfortable, most readable, when talking about architectural conservation, restoration, even re-creation.
Soon, however, we are considering forgeries of aboriginal paintings, the authenticity of Rembrandts, the attribution of Shakespeare's plays, the editing of James Joyce's Ulysses - I am sinking while at the same time suffering from altitude sickness.
There's something of a patchwork quilt here - essays for other publications, lectures given in other places and for other audiences. At times there is a strong sense that the only people engaged in this conversation are an elite group of academics standing at the back.
By the time we have reached chapters with subheadings such as "Heidegger and conservation, and the French existentialist legacy" and "Whither away for the work? Peirce and Adorno", I'm looking for a quick way back to base camp.
This is a pity as there is more than enough in Eggert's theories to generate an interesting debate. But to get that discussion going we must first learn to use terminology that all sides respect and talk to each other in a language that we can all understand.
Timothy Mason is an arts and heritage consultant
By Paul Eggert, £17.99
Cambridge University Press
ISBN 978-0-521-72591-0
Cambridge University Press
ISBN 978-0-521-72591-0
