The conventional place to put “thank you’s” in a dissertation or academic book is at the beginning, and the usual title is “acknowledgements.” Since this is a blog—more of an ad hoc work-in-progress than a premeditated product—the end will have to suffice. And, since I have always intended it to be less formal and more accessible than academic writing, “thank you” will work fine, too.
I did consider simply copying the Acknowledgements from my dissertation into this post. But they’re a bit too long and, nevertheless, contain embarrassing omissions, I fear. I’ll settle here, then, for something a bit more general and concise.
After all, there are so, so many people who deserve a “thank you” (at the very least). If the thesis of Breaking ABD has been that being ABD means a lot more than writing a dissertation, then the corollary is that ABD life entails accruing debts to an ever-increasing and diverse range of people. Tying together these disparate figures into the space of a few pages is what makes Acknowledgements sections so magical to read and so difficult to write.
I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to family. Going back furthest to my parents, of course. Most immediately to my wife, who has been closest to me throughout this journey. Even to my daughter, who will only ever know the dissertation as something finished, even though for me the memories of completing it will always be bound up with getting to know her.
Colleagues across the world have provided material, emotional, and intellectual support in-person, by email, by social media, and, most recently, of course, by Zoom time and time again. Again, the range of people—faculty, librarians, archivists, staff at universities and fellowship organizations across the world—is too broad to enumerate comprehensively. I am especially grateful for my fellow graduate students, with whom I have formed friendships that I hope will last for many years to come and stretch as far across the world as our lives take us.
My teachers have, of course, played a special role in my graduate school experience. The opportunity to learn and receive feedback from so many intelligent and accomplished people has shaped my development as a scholar in more ways than I could have anticipated and more than I can appreciate even now. Of course, the members of my committee had a special hand in getting me over the finish line, and it was a real joy hearing their diverse perspectives on the project as it developed and came to fruition.
My chair, Ken Pomeranz, deserves special mention, especially since references to him elsewhere in the blog have been far too oblique to do him justice. There is a school of thought that an adviser who doesn’t make you cry at some point isn’t pushing you hard enough. I’ve definitely shed tears after getting Ken’s comments back on drafts but never because he tore them apart or made me feel like I didn’t have what it took to get across the finish line. Yes, he has consistently pointed out areas for improvement and has often pushed me to think bigger. But at every step of the way he has found value in my work that I couldn’t see for myself and has expressed more confidence in my ability to get to the finish than I could possibly muster on my own behalf. Because he saw the products of my research and my long efforts to turn it into writing in a way no one else did, his words of encouragement—no matter how simple—felt powerfully incisive. (And not infrequently those words were the most ingeniously and memorably kind things anyone has ever said to me.) We tend to associate academic work with intellectual rigor, and, especially at certain institutions (cough, cough), there is a sense of pride in elevating intellectual pursuits above personal considerations. I’ve realized that I have no interest in using my career to build this kind of culture. I think I would have given up on academia a long time ago if it weren’t for the hope that my experience studying with Ken has given me that generosity and even love can be the foundation of shared intellectual pursuits. I suppose everyone who finds their way in academic life has their own Ken. But you’ll never be able to convince me that the chance to work with him has been anything other than a one-of-kind blessing.
Finally, there is all of you. And here, I will refer to what I wrote in the dissertation:
…I should also mention my gratitude to readers of Breaking ABD. Not only has it been encouraging that people have found some value in my musings on graduate student life, but the blog was also my first real experience with people “meeting” me through my writing rather than in-person, and so, unexpectedly, it has become an important part of the professionalization process for me.
I once heard a faculty member refer to blogging (somewhat derisively) as a kind of instant gratification. In a sense, Breaking ABD has been that for me: finishing posts and seeing people engage with them provided more immediate satisfaction than, say, finishing a years-long writing project. However, as with the dissertation, there is still a special kind of long-deferred joy in bringing this writing journey to a conclusion. Whether you’ve read a handful of posts or a couple dozen, I’m glad that you have been there with me. There is still a lot more to say about dissertation-writing, the practice of history, academic life in the 21st century, etc., and I trust that some of you will be the ones to say it and will do so much better than I could.
From the bottom of heart:
Thank you.