In Praise of Bibliographies

Whenever I’ve taught research methods to middle school and high school students, I’ve often claimed a magic resource exists for the object of their research. Sometimes, just sometimes, a scholar, author, or historian is so fluent in their topic that they clearly credit numerous others in a single text. And that book is magic in its ability to point to ideas, connections, subtopics, and other books and journals. I attempt to inspire my students to read bibliographies and endnotes with that in mind, to think of it like an investigation. Some do find a magic resource, but only a few experience the thrill of the hunt and the sigh of relief that help has been found.

Sometimes you find that magic book in a bibliography; sometimes it’s hiding in an old-school footnote, “See Charles Augustus Milverton for further thoughts on acquiring the personal correspondence of others (Blackmailing for Everyone, 1880).” I look it up, and there it is. Milverton has already done a chunk of research and written on the very thing I need! I order the book immediately. If only it were always this easy.

I found this to be true years ago in my own research stacks when I was reading lots of Willa Cather’s short and long fiction. The fiction I could find easily, but I also had to know what other scholars had already said. I wouldn’t want my research interest (or thesis!) to duplicate another’s. In my early Cather research, I was borrowing books from within the local library system and through interlibrary loans. Some books were helpful. Many were not. It’s the age-old riddle of research work, much like perusing a flea market looking for a valuable antique. I had to determine what was valuable to me. That Cather culling helped me know what to invest in and literally purchase for my own library.

I distinctly remember Sharon O’Brien’s Willa Cather: The Emerging Voice (Oxford University Press, 1987). O’Brien wove biography and literary analysis together, which was easy to see at the end of each chapter in her extensive footnotes. That, along with a thorough subject index, made it a handy resource.

Predating O’Brien’s work, though, was James Woodress’s Willa Cather: Her Life and Art (University of Nebraska Press, 1970). His “Bibliography and Notes” section was and is a wonder! Woodress introduced it “as a convenience for the reader,” and it was—a convenience store gas station with everything you could want. Woodress first listed Cather’s works in order, a perfectly normal and expected aid, but then he detailed all the books written about her before his book was published in 1970, all before the Wiki lists of the internet existed. Chapter by chapter, Woodress proceeded to explain where he found his information and where he made his connections. He credited all of those in the Cather community who had gone before him and made it incredibly easy to find needed resources. It was much more than an annotated bibliography.

Here’s an example. Chapter 4 is titled “Literary Debut,” and Woodress’s bibliographic notes begin by mentioning where the Nebraska State Journal letters were reprinted in Europe and in The World and the Parish. He kindly says fellow scholar Brown needs to update his notes about this fact. Then Woodress lists two articles from 1903 and 1958 before describing where Cather’s original version of the poem “Prairie Dawn” was published before she made “substantive changes.” For anyone trying to chase connections between her letters and publications or researching the fine points of a given year, Woodress is like a brilliant investigator, generously sharing his notes for every chapter

For decades, many books across subjects have included a “Further Reading” section, perhaps providing a statement or brief paragraph for certain resources. It’s not a new practice, but it’s hardly standard. I have hope that that is changing. In “Bibliographies for the People: How Trade Books Can Effectively Communicate Our Expertise,” Rhiannon Garth Jones and Matthew Gabriele offer a newer idea, an extension of traditional annotation. Jones and Gabriele describe how they came to write their bibliographies, hospitably catering to both the academic and the public reader, to those who had asked them as historians, Where do I start to learn about . . .?

By way of example, Gabriele describes how he and his co-author in The Bright Ages: A New History of Medieval Europe (Harper, 2021) created their “Further Reading” section. Like Woodress, they proceed with a chapter-by-chapter approach, introducing readers to “general overviews, cutting-edge scholarship on specific topics, and, perhaps most important, primary sources in translation.” It’s a passion project. They share their expertise while acknowledging the scholars before them. They call it a discursive bibliography, “an invitation to the reader to explore the past with us as historians.”

Jones also includes a traditional bibliography in her All Roads Lead to Rome: Why We Think of the Roman Empire Daily, but in addition to these chapter-by-chapter notes, she chose to include a separate section with citations for publicly accessible resources like podcasts, public essays and blogs, open-access translations of primary sources, and trade books or books available for free online. Jones calls it citation ethics, properly acknowledging fellow scholars but also making a way for interested readers. Accessibility and hospitality are intentional.

I think authors should revel in their investigative work and model all the good research methods for our students. What if bibliographies were not required afterthoughts of citation ethics but instead showcases? I’ve only mentioned a few creative forms of bibliographies, endnotes, and “Further Reading” sections. There are so many in publication already, and there should be many more in the future. As I finished my “discursive” bibliography for a completed manuscript, I’m happy to acknowledge that I found three magic resources, books that meant everything to me in my meandering research, authors that freely shared their knowledge and passion, allowing me to connect parts of my life and new ideas to those of the past. I hope to do the same.

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