Ce livre, qui puise son information dans les manuscrits du XVIIIe siècle, raconte le métier d'une historienne habitée par la passion des archives. Évidentes autant qu'énigmatiques, on peut tout faire dire aux archives, tout et le contraire, puisqu'elles parlent du réel sans jamais le décrire. Le travail d'historien s'impose donc ici avec toute sa rigueur.
Dans ce livre, salué par les historiens comme un ouvrage classique, Arlette Farge propose une réflexion sur l'écriture de l'histoire à partir des mots retrouvés dans les archives de police. De manière personnelle et ironique, elle invite le lecteur à la suivre dans son plaisir " d'aller aux archives ".
Arlette Farge est historienne spécialiste du XVIIIe siècle. Elle a publié de nombreux ouvrages, parmi lesquels La Vie fragile. Violence, pouvoirs et solidarités à Paris au XVIIIe siècle, Le Goût de l'archive, et, avec Michel Foucault, Le Désordre des familles. Lettres de cachet des Archives de la Bastille au XVIIIe siècle.
Farge offers thoughtful, sensitive, evocative insights on historical scholarship, with specific consideration given to the historian's interaction with archives and archival sources. Her observations reveal a deep humanity and sympathetic imagination with regard to the people and cultures she encounters in the police reports that are the main focus of her research - but that could provide a model of humanistic scholarship for anyone regarding the past through any kinds of sources. I had thought before reading the book that it might be a nice choice to excite interest and anticipation among the students in my historiography course as they prepare to undertake their own archival research, but found it really more relevant for experienced historians who can more viscerally comprehend and appreciate the sensibility at the heart of the book.
A beautifully written book/long essay - borderline poetry too - born for the love of archives. Farge illustrates the alluring and all-encompassing "Taste of the Archive" (which would be a better translation of the original's title, "Le goût de l'archive"), bringing to vivid life the stuffiest of stuffy places.
The text is almost too good, so good that it threatens to overshadow the messages in the book. The author, sharing her love for her craft, shows the treasure to be found when reading between the lines. Figuratively speaking that is, she isn't guessing. She brings to life 18th century France by lifting throw-away phrases in police- and court archival documents, shaping it around the people history has mostly ignored.
I couldn't be more surprised, but I absolutely loved this! So, so recommended!
Déclaration d'amour aux archives, ce petit livre était lui-même presque devenu une archive de ma pile à lire, depuis des années qu'il y était. Je m'en étais fait toute une idée, et je ressors de ma lecture un peu déçue, pour plusieurs raisons.
La première raison est tout à fait personnelle : ancienne archiviste, si je partage sa passion avec Arlette Farge, ce n'est pas pour les mêmes raisons. Le point de vue de l'historienne est très intéressant, mais je n'y ai que partiellement retrouvé ce qui me fait vibrer. Là-dessus, j'ai aimé surtout les premiers chapitres, qui parlent de l'archive en tant qu'objet, et des gestes de l'archiviste qui la manipule. Plus le discours allait vers le contenu (l'autrice a centré son propos sur les archives judiciaires du XVIIIeme siècle), plus j'avais du mal à m'intéresser à ma lecture. Je dois reconnaître quand même que ma curiosité a été très satisfaite par l'analyse de la présence des femmes dans ce type d'archives particulier, et par les extraits insolites partagés par l'autrice.
L'autre raison essentielle à mon sentiment mitigé vient de l'écriture d'Arlette Farge. La langue est très soutenue, les tournures de phrases sont complexes, le ton parfois presque poétique. Si j'aime ça dans la fiction, j'ai beaucoup plus de mal à lire un essai écrit d'une telle manière. Il faut se concentrer pour comprendre, relire, revenir en arrière. Ça a rendu ma lecture pénible, d'autant plus dans les passages qui m'intéressaient moins. Il faut quand même souligner que ça l'a rendue, au contraire, agréable dans les quelques moments où l'autrice interrompt son discours pour raconter la vie d'une salle d'archives, suivant tour à tour un jeune lecteur ou une présidente de salle.
En bref, c'est un ouvrage qui se lit vite mais pas facilement, susceptible d'intéresser n'importe quelle personne qui a un attrait, même faible, pour les archives ou l'Histoire. J'en retiens de jolies images qui me donnent envie de retourner parmi les inventaires et les cartons.
I suppose every profession desires a space of its own to navel-gaze and inspect its vanity. The profession may be conscious of some of its faults, but ultimately concludes on the meaningfulness and weight of its work. For Hollywood there's Oscar-bait cinema like La-La Land. For archivists and historians it is this book. It concedes the similarity of archival work to both schoolchildren's copy and the rote transcription of medieval monks. However the archivist ultimately finds justification from the revelations of ordinary lives in the past that it is able to present and represent. In this case, the author draws from her work in the French National Archives, where her days in the judicial archives document the lives of the poorest class of 18th-century France as they intersect with legal clerks, policemen and judiciaries in the commitment and defense of petty crimes.
This is an excellent book for not just the budding historian but also for the layperson. Farge meticulously articulate the intricacies of doing research on archival materials, and at the same time, brings her readers through an almost ritualistic experience of doing research in the archives. Farge presents the start archival research as a rite of passage of some sorts, that once one has learnt the secret codes and rules of the archive, one is then let "in" to acessing the mysteries of the archives. The end goal of obtaining the "in" is hugely satisfying. Fantastic read.
In her work, The Allure of the Archives, Arlette Farge discusses her opinions about historical archives gleaned from working in judicial archives in Paris, France. Despite reading the translated version by Thomas Scott-Railton, Farge’s text nevertheless seems to get as close as prose can get while still remaining a non-fiction, historiographical account—and perhaps that is because it is heavily weighed down with personal narratives through the means of three personal vignettes about the archival experience. While the initial purpose of Farge’s archival work was to search for answers and insight to what life was like in 17th century France through the means of police reports (as someone who worked alongside Foucault, this makes sense,)Farge subsequentially transposed the narrative in Allure of what using the archives is like for historians.
Farge complicates the understanding of the aloof archive, by asserting that archives might not be historical, and further can be uncertain, contradictory, and curated/manipulated. If one was seeking to pleasure read about the archival experience for historians, Allure would be a perfect book. But for a layperson? Farge fails to explain how the archive could be relevant other than chastising ordinary people for using the archives to do ancestral work. The text itself could be further improved by perhaps explaining the actual history and purpose of archives, explaining why they are important, and a bit less personal narrative. While the book is classified as a historiography, a better fit would be memoir given that nearly 2/3 of the book are reflection pieces.
Nevertheless, the book is beautifully written, and hard to read due to the mere fact that it makes you want to abandon the book to instead experience the magic Farge found in the archives for yourself. It does help with the understanding of archives in the sense that it offers them as a tool to examine otherwise “silenced” subjects like the women Farge herself studies. However, ultimately the reader is left wondering what you are supposed to get from the book, but perhaps that is what happens similarly at archives according to Farge herself—an open mind with mixed results?
« Lire l’archive est une chose ; trouver le moyen de la retenir en est une autre. On peut surprendre en affirmant que les heures passées en bibliothèque à consulter l'archive sont autant d'heures passées à la recopier, sans en changer un mot. Le soir venu, après cet exercice banal et étrange, il arrive qu'on s'interroge sur cette occupation industrieuse et obsessionnelle. Temps perdu ou moyen utopique de le retrouver coûte que coûte ? Temps qui évoque quelque peu les automnes de l'enfance et de l'école primaire passés au milieu des feuilles mortes à recopier des mots ou des dictées, jugés par le maître bien trop maltraités le matin même. C'est cela ; mais c'est aussi bien autre chose d'indéfinissable ; il s'agit d'une plage, située entre l'apprentissage enfantin de l'écriture et l'exercice mature des bénédictins studieux, la vie soumise à la copie des textes. Au temps de l'informatique, ce geste de copie, à peine, peut se dire. Comme immédiatement frappé d'imbécillité. Peut-être est-ce vrai, du reste: il y a sûrement quelque imbécillité à recopier toujours, plutôt qu'à prendre en notes ou à résumer tout bonnement l'idée principale d'un document. De l'imbécillité, alliée à de l'obstination têtue, voire maniaque et fière, à moins que ce dessin absolu des mots ne soit ressenti comme une nécessité, un moyen privilégié d'entrer en connivence et d'éprouver de la différence. »
Una amiga historiadora me recomendó este libro justo después de yo haber regresado de un semestre de trabajo en el Archivo Histórico Judicial de Medellín. Ella claramente sabía por qué lo hacía. Este libro puede no ser de interés para todo el mundo, pues se trata de una descripción que hace Arlette Farge de su experiencia trabajando con los archivos judiciales de París para sus investigaciones históricas. Pero para aquellos que hacen o quieren hacer historia del derecho o historia a partir de fuentes judiciales, es una lectura obligatoria. Farge es supremamente agradable en su relato y emociona el sentirse identificado con sus experiencias y reflexiones. Como yo lo leí después de mi visita a los archivos, no sé cómo será la experiencia de leerlo antes, pero intuyo que puede ser una forma de entusiasmarse con este tipo de trabajo.
“The archive’s allure, nonetheless, lives on. The taste for the archives is not a fashion that will go out of style as quickly as it came in.”
Wow. I couldn’t have picked a better read during the beginning of my graduate program in library science (archives & academic librarianship in specific). The title encapsulates it perfectly!!!
Had to buy this for class last year, finishing it for closure. it's... fine. Probably my opinion is coloured by the fact that the class was a big disappointment. There are passages that are interesting. There are passages that suffer from run on sentences and clunky translation.
I am very unsure that I can craft a review that does any justice to the sheer lyricism of this book. It is to be savoured. The narrative exists ob a variety of levels from the small anecdotal insertions of individual experiences of the archives to the wider reflection on the role of the historian, the exuberance of finding lives otherwise hidden and doing justice to the lives reflected in the authoritative remnants of the past. This pure treat is a faceted nugget of personal reflection crafted in a way that demands absolutely and willing engagement. I was drawn to connect this work with the same passion that came from Jules Michelet's own reflections on his drive to establish the foundations of the Franch National Archives. Farge could not be more pervasive is capturing this engagement with the lives that embody the fragments of the French criminal archives but supremely conveys how the role of the historian extends beyond reflection and in reading but demands intrinsic emotional empathy.
Even reading this book in translation, it is clear that Farge’s writing is breathtakingly evocative and beautiful. Farge’s meticulous staging, attention to surprising details, and searing historiographical and philosophical insights into the entirety of the process of historical research—publication excepting—render nobility and sentimentality to what can often feel, in the moment, like drudge work. Much of archival work consists of flipping through page after page of byzantine bureaucratic jargon in loopy, barely-decipherable script, and Farge acknowledges this in her wry description comparing scholars in reading rooms to “galley-slaves, backs bent, hunched over and silent” (117). But if Farge is careful to leave room for the long, mundane hours sifting through documents nearly identical and is clear on their importance, nevertheless, in establishing a putative baseline of normality, it is really the exceptional and the unexpected in which she revels and through which we are transported into the archives at their most exciting and magical. (And after all, what was translated as The Allure of the Archives was originally Le Gôut de l’archive, or the taste of the archive.)
Some others have remarked, and I would tend to agree, that this book really works better after one has had their own taste of the archive, rather than as a primer of sorts for the neophyte seeking guidance for their first dive into the fonds. But I think just as good is to read it in conjunction with a research trip, lying in bed after a hard day’s work and mulling together with Farge over the notes and photos one had jotted down and inventoried for the day. Farge’s reflections are too germane and too elevating to be left to the end of one’s trip, by which time it’s too late and the regrets are beginning to settle in. If one is not an historian and has no intention of becoming one, this book is likely to be an alienating read, but I do believe the sense of dislocation helps to recreate some of the sensibility of being thrown into the archives for the first time while introducing a few of the intellectual conundrums historians face in their craft. It’s not, ultimately, meant to be a practical read.
To be sure, Farge’s advice is most appropriate for the kind of cultural, against-the-grain histories for which she is most famous and upon which she built her career. Her focus on ‘history from below,’ on the mentalités of everyday, ‘normal’ people, is both an artifact of the profession as it developed in the 70s and 80s as it is a gentle rebuke to historians who, in the rush to burnish that peculiar, twenty-first century funhouse image of scholarliness, might forget to ask the basic Brechtian ‘Questions From a Worker Who Reads.’ Unfair, perhaps, and a bit of a strawman, but still an issue worth raising, especially with the development of new types of history—environmental, climate, evolutionary—for which Farge’s methods are not immediately applicable.
Which is not to say that they aren’t applicable at all. Bathsheba Demuth’s work, for instance, brilliantly avails itself of many elements of the historian’s toolkit, old and new. But in an era of climate denialism, telling stories about nature and our environment, and telling them well, remain challenges. Where do Farge’s phenomenological discussions over the meaning of events, the temptation of clumsy quotations, and the inherent contradictions of the archival trace belong when the whole earth and its residents—human and more-than human—are potentially an embodied record, stretching over impossible temporalities? Or to reframe the question provocatively: must historians tell stories differently when they are ‘written’ on paper and skin, parchment and cellulose? And that itself is almost une question mal posée, because now even the history and production of that piece of paper itself, of the parchment fragments, interests us. What kind of exchanges among the living occur when subjecthood is constituted beyond human recognition?
“We write,” Farge concludes, “to enter into an unending conversation about humanity and forgetting, origins and death. About the words each of us uses to enter into the debates that surround us” (124). For those of us who take Farge seriously, it may be time to expand our lexicon.
Arlette Farge a été ma conseillère pour une dissertation historique. Ses formulations poétiques permettent d’exprimer des sentiments très propres au domaine de l’histoire. Elle offre également une remise en question constante de l’historiographie.
Petite citation pour vous donner un avant goût (de l'archive!) : 《 Cela oblige à ne point omettre cette part d'ombre, ce goût de la destruction et de la mort qui habitent l'homme ; cela oblige à ne pas laisser de côté cette "insociable sociabilité de l'être" ou l'intérêt des uns pour l'asservissement des autres, la ruse et le mensonge s'empoignent sans merci avec ce goût pour davantage de liberté et de concorde : "La tragédie humaine s'inscrit dans le désaccord fondamental des êtres avec leur propre chair. Écrire l'histoire, c'est dresser le constat de ce désaccord". Entre outrage et pardon divaguent les mots : à travers des vies de rien, on entend la part inaudible – parfois ignoble – de l'humain, tandis qu'on surprend l'insistante mélodie des bonheurs tentés et des dignités conquises. Le goût de l'archive s'enracine dans ces rencontres avec des silhouettes défaillantes ou sublimes. Obscure beauté de tant d'existences à peine éclairées par les mots, s'affrontent autrui, aussi prisonnières d'elles-mêmes que défaites du temps qui les abrite. 》 (Farge, 1989, p.59)
The Allure of the Archives, written by the French historian Arlette Farge, took me on a journey through the archives that historians use for sources, and what comes out of using those archives. I was faced with the immensity and the paradoxes of the archives, and it made me want to become a historian.
This book is masterfully translated. It is full of amazing quotes about the archives and passages that emotionally resonated with me. Yes, the archives are like an endless sea. The structure switches between musings on the purposes of archives and descriptions about what they are like. The archives seem very scary, but also like an adventure.
Arlette Farge has mostly done research in French legal archives. In those archives are great stories and peeks into the lives of ordinary people who would otherwise get lost, especially the lives of women. The archives are illuminating, but they are also incomplete. They are full of potential, but never give up the exact secrets you want.
I only had to read a couple chapters of this book for college class, but I loved the writing in those chapters so much that I had to continue on. It is more like poetry than a history book. It made me want to visit some dry, dusty archives.
Read this book; read it twice to absorb everything the author says. It reminded me of I y Kratchkovsky's Among Arabic Manuscripts: Memories of Libraries and Men which is similarly a beautifully written memoir of the author's actual work in archives and the singular pleasures of such work. As I read I was continually reminded of my own experiences during two separate, very deep dives into institutional archives and all the emotions that accompanied those experiences: the excitement of discovery of the gems of evidence germane to my research (almost always 10 minutes before closing time) giving a frisson to the otherwise inevitable boredom while waiting for delivery of my documents or from rooting through the routine matters they described while trying to unearth my gems. Read this book, and when you've done your own archival research, write your own essay in response. Highly recommended for anyone who might be considering teaching a research methods course to advanced undergrads or early graduate students.
If you want to get into the world of archives and libraries, this book is your manifesto. Arlette Farge details the philosophy that shapes aspiring researchers in what to expect, or not, in their navigation of the world of archives. Based on her own experiences of 18th Century French Judicial Archives, Farge outlines the tips and techniques to keep in mind if you plan on making a trip. The only things I would keep in mind is that this book deals in more philosophy of archives rather than as textbook. I will also state that whilst the translation is faithful to the lyricism of French, it can feel a bit dry and repetitive in some places. Aside from that, I would recommend this to any aspiring historian or even just those who want to learn about archival research.
Edit: A star was knocked because I was making notes and slowly losing the will to live. No shade towards the translator nor the author. Three stars is still a good book.
I was really looking forward to reading this book and at first I loved it. The parts where the author described the sensory and emotional experience of archival research were so evocative and powerful. The vignettes based on observations of how researchers behave in archives were also very funny and incisive, and rang true with my own experiences.
Unfortunately this was only a small part of the book. Much of it read like any other academic textbook, with lengthy discussion of historiographical methodologies and conceptual frameworks couched in nebulous jargon. I skimmed over large parts of it and was relieved when it ended.
This is a really interesting book about working in archives, balancing between an attempt to describe very personally the actual sensory experience of the work (smells, sounds, scents) and a more objective argument about how to think about the work that one is doing, all the various mistakes to avoid in order to let the actual voices of the archives speak in a way that lets the historian create good history. I am sure there were many aspects I did not understand, not being a researcher or historian myself, but it was fascinating nonetheless, and I am looking forward to reading some of Farge's historical work in due time and seeing how I find it.
El 15 de abril de 1991 es cuando esta obra nace como documento impreso a través de los talleres gráficos Graficuatre. A pesar de la escasa información que hay sobre la autora o sobre este proyecto, parece que la iniciativa de la escritura de este libro deriva en dar a conocer la visión y el día a día del archivero. El libro se desarrolla desde un punto de vista relativamente ameno e incluso algunas veces cómico, con algunos ejemplos o hipérboles que pretenden atraer al espectador. La atracción no es algo que solo forma parte del título, sino también de este libro, consiguiendo la autora conseguir que disfrutes del libro y que entiendas el trabajo del archivero y su importancia.
“In the archives,” Farge writes, “whispers ripple across the surface of silence, eyes glaze over, and history is decided. Knowledge and uncertainty are ordered through an exacting ritual in which the color of the note cards, the strictness of the archivists, and the smell of the manuscripts are trail markers in this world where you are always a beginner.”
I enjoyed it. I think reading Michel-Rolph Trouillot will pay-off with better dividends.
This was kind of disappointing. There were no arguments that surprised me or felt revolutionary. The long italicized ethnographic descriptions of being inside the library archive itself also felt unrelated and I was confused about their purpose. I think I hoped for her to engage with more theory rather than just ramble on about her personal observations. Moving on to Saidiya Hartman's "Venus in Two Acts," which I anticipate being much more insightful.
I absolutely adored this book and think that anyone who has done archival work in the stacks can relate to everything that Farge describes: from the wonderful sensory excitement of being able to lay your hands on a centuries-old record to the intimidating bureaucracy within the the archives themselves. Farge does an immaculate job of capturing the special appeal archival research holds for the serious scholar.
Im of a couple of minds of this book. I think it is a quaint, enjoyable introduction to/reminiscence of going to Big archives and all the rigamarole and fun and frustration to be experienced there. She introduces aspects of historiography obliquely, which may prove frustrating and mystifying for first year grad students.
A love letter to the archives. Fun reading for historians so deep in their craft that the idea of old paper excites their synapses. AKA me. Not the most scintillating reading (partially because I don't really care about French judicial history in the seventeenth century), but enjoyable all the same.
Un livre extraordinaire, surtout quand on a déjà interagi avec des archives et qu'on a ressenti toutes sortes d'émotions à les fréquenter. Même si le livre se concentre sur les archives judiciaires de la France du XVIIIe siècle, il met en valeur toute la beauté et la richesse des documents conservés depuis longtemps, leurs lieux de conservation et les gens qui les font vivre!
”Can you read a highway, even if it is made of paper?”
a surprisingly sensitive (and yet still pragmatic) look at historical writing, with specific attention paid to how it interacts with an archive. as a first book read for my master’s degree, i genuinely got quite a lot out of it. a great introductory text!