This stuff about my research - so be warned.

I am undertaking as exercise to read some Baptist histories published at various points in C20 to try to establish (a) the trajectory and (b) the implied reader.  This is quite important for my (eventual) thesis because critical reading of history is something I've never really done before, and I suspect many other people don't either.  The two - trajectory and implied reader - are not mutually exclusive and I am, this far, enjoying myself reading A C Underwood's History of the English Baptists published in 1947 (I know, I need to get out more).

What I am finding though, is that I ask questions of the text, and find partial answers as I recall events in wider history and/or my own experience that I also build up imaginary people for both writer and reader.

My imagined reader is an earnest young man in his early twenties (the age my father would have been when the book was published).  This young man left school at 14 and either he or a close relative saw active service in World War II.  Maybe, he or a relative was a conscientious objector.  Maybe he lost a brother or a friend in the war.  Maybe his little sister was evacuated to the country.  As rationing continues and he tries to make sense of all that has happened, he finds himself training for Baptist ministry and presented with this book of history to read.  He comes from a solid Baptist background, a chapel that still expounds a broadly Calvinist message, and where the little red Sankey book used evey Sunday contains such delights as 'there is a fountain filled with blood' [check it out!].  Like men of his era, he is suspicious of the Roman Catholics who meet for Latin masses and, in the wake of Auschwitz, wonders what attitude he should take towards Judaism.  Patriotism is strong, the King is a good, devout Christian leader, there are hopes for a new world order - and he is given this newly published book to read.  What does he make of it?

My imagined writer is a very august college principal, perhaps a tad austere [someone can tell me he was lovely in real life!], whose stduents were somewhat in awe of him.  He is, in my mind's eye [I haven't checked his dates or found any photos] a man in his mid-fifties, tall and straight, formally attired and very scholarly.  He is writing history for a new generation of young men whose lives have been battered by war.  Maybe his own son or nephew was lost.  Maybe he recalled his own experiences last time around.  Being principal of a slightly radical college, obliged to maintain the study of General Baptist origins, he faces a challenging task.  He is sympathetic to the idea of Ananbaptist origins - but his revered source writer, Whitley, is not; he fudges the issue.  He notes both military service and pacifism in Baptist history - which path should he take?  He is an avowed non-conformist and carefully avoids references to the treatment of Catholics under Cromwell.  He, too, is a man of his age.  The embryonic ecumenical movement is viewed with suspicion, the rebuilding of a nation ravaged by war is essential - and he is tasked with writing this text book - how does he approach it?

My picture of these two men emerges from my research, but the imagined reader inevitably reflects my experience of real men of that generation.  How much is he just my dad translated across a denominational boundary?  Likewise, how much is the collgee principal actually based onreal college lecturers I have known?  Though I'd have to confess, he's more like my old engineering prof than any I met doing theology!  To some extent they are based in the implied reader and author, but they cannot be fully authenticated by quotations - thus they are more than that.

When Underwood published his book the now obsolete (or not) green Baptist Hymnbook was still 15 years into the future; likewise Vatican II was a long way off and birth of the URC would be almost three decades away.  Underwood would have sat in his study at a nice oak (I suspect) desk with a fountain pen and sheets of foolscap paper, a fire may have burned in the hearth of his study and the housekeeper would have knocked to advise him that tea was served - in a nice china cup of course.  Now I sit at my computer with a pot mug of tea and try to deduce what he was trying to do.  At one level that seems incredibly arrogant, at another impossible.  But I guess I can be pretty certain that both he and I would have one thing in common - we both believe that understanding something of our past is useful in shaping our ministry and mission now. 

I can't quite envisage anyone in 60 year's time reading this and trying to work out who I was writing this for, nor yet imagining what I am doing right now.  What is intriguing is to try to guss which news stories or issues from 2007 will inform anyone who does try a similar exercise on early 21st century writing though.

Now... back to chapter 6 of Underwood and more close reading.