… because it wasn’t a sequel, it was the second world war.
I’m not a professional historian. Not yet, anyway. I genuflect with respect to anyone who succeeds in living their best life, and making a living, by virtue of this métier’s reward. That said, I am an enthusiastic soul who’ll take any opportunity to ‘stand where they stood’, and I enjoy drawing on the skills of my day-job – as a writer – to ask new questions about old ideas.
In every historiography, you’ll find perceptions that benefit from challenge. We have myriad records of resourcefulness, resilience, and patriotic resolve; but we also have proof of confusion, ineptitude, and scelestic, inhumane intent – or do we? Our interpretation of history depends entirely on the language we choose to use.
From the rhetoric of the time to the trove of serendipitous trivia and evidence that’s surfaced since, there’s plenty of raw material to work with. I enjoy exploring and writing about it all.
I won’t apologise for recherché language (such as ‘scelestic’) as, for me, that’s all part of the fun. Some posts take a wry look at oblique theories, usually connected to the second world war. Others gnaw at the ties of language binding perceptions to reality, and you might find some MA coursework here too.
One or two pieces may or may not have been written under the influence of too much strong coffee or a charming, young flint-smoked Pouilly-Fumé. Good luck with those.