Historiography is the word that trained historians use to describe a subset of scholarly literature on a historical topic. There is a historiography on every major era, from the American Revolution to Maoist China, as well as on thematic topics like African American history and women's history. There are also theoretical or methodological historiographies, which are a group of studies that use the same framework or technique--comparative international history or an "ecological approach" to understanding historical incidences of disease.

For example, one of the historiographies I have learned through my coursework and exams is African American urban history. In the 1960s, at the height of the civil rights movement, historians explained urban segregation as the result of white racism and housing restrictions that prevented black urbanites from living within white communities. This "ghetto synthesis" thesis (and then the "second ghetto" thesis which arose to explain postwar segregation) dominated until the late 1980s, when a group of historians who were influenced by the Black Power struggles of the 1970s began critiquing these studies for not acknowledging black agency. African Americans were limited in their choices, this new group of historians agreed, but they did exert powerful influences in their own spaces and spheres. More recently, historians have pushed us to look at the postwar city as multicultural rather than as a space of tension between black and white. They have pushed African American urban historians to consider race relations with Asian and Latino neighbors, in addition to the white majority.

A historiographical essay, like the miniature version I just offered above, is an explanation of how historical writing on a topic has changed over time. Historiography papers are the bread-and-butter assignment for many graduate seminars in the discipline, because they reinforce the main learning objective of the course--to learn what has been said and argued about the subject at hand. Contrary to popular belief, professional historians spend very little of their graduate training learning the actual dates/places/battles of their historical topic (though this varies according to the priorities of the student's advisor). You learn the history through research and teaching--especially teaching, which turns your fear of looking stupid in front of students into an incentive to learn the nuts-and-bolts details they are sure to ask about--and so your graduate coursework is really dedicated to learning what has already been said by earlier scholars. After all, the ultimate requirement of the PhD is a dissertation, and who wants to spend 3 years and 200 pages of effort on a redundant study? The goal of research is to contribute to our understanding of the past and further the field, and if you do not know where the field came from, how will you know where to take it?

That's why historiography is such a big part of the dissertation prospectus. You begin proposing a dissertation after completing your doctoral qualifying exams, which test your knowledge of the historiography. You then parlay this fresh appraisal of the recent literature into your prospectus, declaring how you plan to further the research in your distinct subfield(s).

I have spent the last month trying to weave together three distinct historiographies: postwar urban history, American Jewish history, and the history of social work professionalization (which is embedded within the history of medicine, public health, and social welfare more generally). This is not such an easy task, since each of these fields is engaged in divergent debates at the current moment. It has taken me over ten pages to lay out the major historical studies and debates in each of these fields, and to declare how I intend to intervene or further these debates. Until this intellectual work is complete, I cannot move on to the other sections of the prospectus.

Last week, my mother commented to me that she felt lost when she listened to me describe my current daily work--not only were the content and the argument and the history unfamiliar to her, but also the basic mechanics of what it means to write a dissertation prospectus.

The dissertation prospectus is a requirement in all doctoral programs, not just in history, but the format and process varies between disciplines and departments. After passing your comprehensive exams, you are given a certain amount of time to write, revise, and defend the prospectus to your committee. In my department, your third year of the program is divided into exams and prospectus--the former must be completed in the fall semester, and the latter in the spring.

A dissertation prospectus in the field of history usually consists of the following sections: an introduction of the project; an overview of how the study will make a historiographical contribution (more on that later); an explanation of what sources and methodology you will use; a chapter-by-chapter breakdown of the argument and contents of the study; and finally a bibliography detailing the archives, documents, primary and secondary sources on which the project will be based. After writing a draft of these sections, your committee reads the proposal and returns it to you with comments and feedback--hopefully nothing too brutal. Usually by this point you've worked through most of the kinks, so what you mainly worry about is disagreement among the committee members.

Most doctoral candidates have three or four faculty members on their committee, usually two or three internal advisors plus one or two experts from another institution. The chair of the committee is your main advisor, who in my department is the faculty member you applied to work with. In addition to my advisor, a historian of medicine, I have two other committee members. One is an esteemed expert in urban history, and is a senior faculty member in my department. The other is an assistant professor in religious studies at a nearby university, whose specialty is postwar American Jewish history. As you will see in later posts, the expertise of my committee members reflects the three areas of scholarship in which I work.

After revising the prospectus, a defense is scheduled--this is perhaps the most difficult part! Getting four very busy people in a room at the same time is a trying task, and thankfully one that is the responsibility of our department's Graduate Coordinator. I have attended two defenses over the past two years, to support two dear colleagues. The defendant and their committee sit around a table, while fellow graduate students in attendance take a seat around the edge of the room. After spending about twenty minutes introducing the project--its major questions and proposed contributions--the committee begins asking its own questions, usually about methodology or tricky problems with sources or how you will respond to controversies in the literature you are addressing. When they finish, the graduate students have a chance to ask their own questions--some critical, some softballs to make you look good. The defense concludes with the committee taking a brief leave to decide whether you have passed, and if your defense was successful you and your committee then sign a document acknowledging that you may proceed to the dissertation stage.

The accepted wisdom among graduate students in my program is that if you are allowed to schedule your defense, it is assumed you will pass it. While prospectus defenses are more stringent than a mere formality, it's understood that the prospectus is tentative and the project is liable to change. My advisor's adage is to think of the document as a hunting license rather than a contract--it's meant to provide an opportunity, not bind you to fulfilling a commitment.

My defense will likely take place in late April or early May. While I spent the eight months preparing for exams absolutely convinced I would fail, I feel no stress about the prospectus defense and assume I will be advanced to candidacy. I look forward to being ABD (All But Dissertation) and to changing the line under my signature from "Doctoral Student" to "Doctoral Candidate".