Research Matters 16 - Aberystwyth University

Research esearch
Matters atters
@aber.ac.uk/english/
_____________________________________________________________________
Editorial
This issue is devoted to the topic of the PhD in English. There has been much debate
recently, in the Times Higher and elsewhere, on whether or not the scope and nature
of the traditional PhD experience need to change and adapt. It is argued that change is
needed because the academic profession itself is changing rapidly, as, indeed, is the
wider world of teaching, research, the Arts, commerce, and business, and the many
other professions in which English PhDs may go on to spend all or part of their
careers.
In the lead article, Lyn Pykett addresses the big issues which are now under scrutiny,
and considers the changes in the ‘PhD process’ which have taken place in recent
years. The remaining pieces are personal accounts from practitioners who have taken
part in this process at various levels. Will Slocombe writes about the experience of
being an external examiner: Jen Sattaur describes her experience of the PhD ‘endgame’
of mock-viva and viva; Nicky Cashman gives a candidate’s account of the long
pilgrimage from Registration to Judgement Day, and Peter Barry reflects on being
internal examiner – that ‘duplicate’ figure who walks always in the shadow of the
external.
Your views and responses are invited and welcomed, whether you are internal or
external to Aberystwyth, and whatever role(s) you have played in the great academic
drama of the PhD.
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RM is an on-line research bulletin produced twice each semester in the English Department at
Aberystwyth University. It publishes articles about researching in the broad field of English Studies.
Anything to do with funding, grant applications, RAE/REF matters, AHRC matters, research training,
attending and organising conferences, supervising research, the progress and problems of research, etc,
will receive a sympathetic reading. Each issue is sent as a pdf-attachment to staff and research
postgraduates in English and is posted on the staff pages of the departmental Intranet. We welcome
unsolicited pieces from English colleagues (staff and postgraduate) both within and outside
Aberystwyth, and we also invite both internal and external contributions on specific issues from time to
time. RM is not a restricted document, and readers are welcome to copy it to anyone whom they think
might be interested. Items should be sent as e-mail attachments to both editors:
ptb@aber.ac.uk and scp@aber.ac.uk
_____________________________________________________________________
1
No. 16
February 2009
Edited by
Peter Barry & Sarah Prescott
Advisory Editors
Lyn Pykett & Diane Watt

Decline and Fall
or Brave New World?
The Changing Face
of the PhD
I am a product of the
old-style apprenticeship
– or ‘secret garden’ –
model of the PhD: for
good or ill, the student’s
primary relationship was with a single
supervisor rather than a department,
faculty or university; research training
was minimal. Thirty five years (or so)
on from the completion of my own
PhD experience I have just come to the
end of an extended period as convenor
of the English Language and Literature
Postgraduate Panel of the AHRC and
as a member of its Postgraduate Panel.
This work, and some other work that I
have recently done for the AHRC in
connection with its Block Grant
Partnership Scheme, leads me to
believe that, despite the many reports
on and reviews of the nature of the
PhD in the last fifteen years, and
despite growth of a range of generic
research training and skills
development training (of which more
below), the apprenticeship model is
still alive and well in English Studies
and in the AHRC domain more
generally. Almost every statement on
research training that I have ever read
indicates that the subject-specific
element of research training will be
provided by the supervisor. It is not
felt necessary to go into details: we are
all supposed to understand how
research training will be provided
through the supervisory process.
Typed in triplicate
Back in the days when the thesis was
still typed in triplicate it was supposed
2
to be an original contribution to
knowledge, and no-one was
particularly concerned if it took ten
years to complete. Indeed, in some
circles, failure to complete a doctoral
thesis in a timely fashion was a badge
of honour, a sign of the magnitude of
the project and the scholarly tenacity
and rigour of the writer who was being
inducted into the academy fraternity
(sic). In this bygone era it was not
unknown for people to get academic
jobs before they had completed their
thesis, or, having obtained a post, to
abandon their doctoral thesis whilst
they slowly simmered towards the
great book which in some cases
materialised but in others was
endlessly deferred. Nowadays, of
course, a PhD is a sine qua non for an
academic post and an article or two
plus a book contract deriving from the
thesis are distinct advantages.
In addition, today’s doctoral students,
whether or not they are aiming for an
academic career, must seek to
complete their thesis in under four
years (if they are registered as fulltime)
and at the same time undertake
subject-specific research training,
generic research training and general
skills training which fulfils the
requirements of the RCUK statement
of skills. Increasingly they will be
required to engage with the
employability skills training which
HEIs are being pressed to provide and
also to engage with the Knowledge
Transfer and Exchange agenda. This is
the context for the recent diatribes in
the Higher and elsewhere about the
decline of the PhD.
PhD-in-decline?
As far as I can tell, the PhD-in-decline
lobby take the view that the quality of
the PhD thesis (the PhD product) has
declined because of the (regrettable)

changes in the PhD process which I
have sketched in above. I don’t
subscribe to the decline model. To be
sure, the nature of the PhD thesis has
changed because of these changes to
the PhD process. In my view, many of
these changes were long overdue. This
is not to say that we have got
everything absolutely right. Many of
these changes have come as result of
the current dominance of an
instrumentalist view of education with
which many of us feel uncomfortable.
However, changes to the PhD process
were necessary for a number of
reasons.
First, there has been a significant
increase in the numbers of PhD
students since the first expansion of
UK HE in the 1960s. Not all of these
students could possibly become
academics and many of them do not
want to. In 2006 UKGrad published a
report (What do PhDs do?) tracking
destinations in 2003, 2004 and 2005.
This report showed that arts and
humanities doctoral graduates had a
lower than average employment rate
and were more likely to be on shortterm
contracts or in self-employment
than the total PhD population. Of those
in employment around 50% of the arts
and humanities PhD graduates were
‘teaching professionals’ (45.2% in
2003, 50.7% in 2004 and 48.2% in
2005). In the review period, between
6% and 8% went into Marketing,
Sales, Media and Advertising; between
6% and 9% became commercial,
industrial or public sector managers;
between 24% and 28% went into
‘other technical and professional’
occupations. Also in 2006, the
AHRC’s survey of the career
destinations of that relatively small
minority of arts and humanities
students that it funds showed that 74 %
of the sample who were in
employment had jobs in higher
3
education, 11 % worked in a wide
range of public organisations, 8 % in
independent organisations such as the
non-profit sector, and 7% in the private
sector. So, the PhD process must
address the needs of the substantial
number of doctoral students who do
not become academics. It must prepare
students for a range of demanding
careers by fostering intellectual
development and developing critical
thinking whilst, at the same time,
providing a range of research training,
including ‘training through doing’, that
is, through undertaking a research
project and producing a research
output. Moreover, very few doctoral
students, even those who wish to
become academics, will spend their
whole lives undertaking solitary tasks
in a timeless universe, so skills
development focused on working in
groups, working under pressure and to
deadlines, and communicating within
and with a wide range of individuals
and groups is a very good idea.
The doctoral process
For those wishing to have a career
teaching and researching in an HEI in
the 21 st century, the doctoral process is
a necessary stage in their training and
development. And here I really do
mean the doctoral process and not just
the doctoral product, or thesis. To be
sure the production of the thesis is a
key part of the doctoral process. It is
the means by which apprentice
academics hone their intellect and
research skills and – in the case of
literary studies – learn what it means
to seek to make a contribution to
criticism and/or scholarship which is
significant, rigorous and original (to
use the terms which the latest RAE has
promulgated). However, there are all
sorts of things that budding academics
need to learn – and they need to be
supported in their learning: how to

teach and assess students (or facilitate
the learning process, as we must now
term it); how best to disseminate their
research; how to give a conference
paper; how to go about the business of
getting published; how to initiate
and/or engage with academic networks
and organise conferences. All this
seems blindingly obvious, and on the
whole, today’s doctoral students
engage energetically with all of these
aspects of the PhD process which are
essential for career development and
CV building. I also happen to think
that they are intrinsically a good thing
to do. Far from ‘diluting’ the PhD
experience, I think that the modern
PhD process enriches it. Perhaps my
view is coloured by the fact that I can
(just about) recall a time when the PhD
process was one in which students
were left pretty much on their own to
find out more and more about less and
less; when it was assumed that they
could just go into a classroom and
teach because they had themselves
experienced the process of being
taught (often rather badly I might add);
when they might find themselves
giving a paper to a specialist seminar
having received no guidance
whatsoever, and so on.
The PhD process as a stage
As I indicated earlier, it is likely that
the PhD process will have elements
added to it in the near future in the
form of the further development of
both employability and knowledge-
transfer awareness and skills. I expect
to see developments which link to the
increasing emphasis placed by RCUK
and others on collaborative working
and working across disciplinary
boundaries. Notwithstanding the
British Academy’s reduction of its
postdoctoral awards, the increasing
availability of postdoctoral awards
from other sources and the emergence
4
of an array of early and mid-career
research development awards is
evidence of a growing
acknowledgement that the PhD process
and product are just a stage – albeit an
important one – in the development of
a researcher.
Lyn Pykett
_______________________________
Lyn Pykett is Pro Vice Chancellor for
Research and Professor of English at
Aberystwyth. Her most recent book, Authors in
Context: Wilkie Collins (2005) has just been
re-issued by Oxford World’s Classics in the
influential ‘Authors in Contexts’ series.
_______________________________
The Outsider,
or, On Being an
External Examiner
Most people remember
their first meeting with
their external examiner.
More often than not,
despite the fact that
candidates have normally read at least
some of the external’s work
beforehand, it’s during the viva voce
that they first encounter them in
person. It’s a nerve-wracking occasion
anyway, but the presence of this
stranger, this outsider, can make it all
the more so. Recently, I adopted this
‘outsider’ role, having been asked to
act as an external examiner on a thesis
for the first time. Given my own
sojourn as a PhD candidate, I was keen
to use my old ‘inside’ perspective to
inform my new ‘outside’ one. Here are
some reflections on that experience…
Before the viva
Upon receiving the thesis and finding
the time to open it, I first checked the
table of contents and pagination, and

then read the abstract and the
bibliography. This gave me a good
overview of the project and its scope.
The main task, however, was to read
the thesis and it took a relatively long
time. I suspect it’ll get easier as I gain
more experience, but I don’t think I’ll
ever be a quick reader. Not only do I
feel the burden of the fact that the
thesis represents at least three years of
a candidate’s life (and therefore needs
to be given the attention such an effort
deserves), but — more mundanely — I
proof-read as I read and this takes
time.
Whilst reading the thesis, my primary
concern was the balance between
knowledge and originality, as the PhD
thesis is an unusual beast. It must show
advanced learning in a particular field,
thereby demonstrating knowledge of
what has already been produced.
However, it must also propose original
ideas (one of the criteria by which a
PhD is judged), often at the expense of
received wisdom. Judging the relevant
balance of these can be a difficult task,
and depends heavily upon the nature of
the thesis.
After reading the thesis, and a week
before the viva, the examiners
independently submit their reports.
These recommendations are subject to
change, but offer a variety of ‘pass’
options, from no changes required,
through minor amendments (normally
correcting errors), to more substantial
revisions (re-writing sections or
chapters and possibly even re-drafting
the entire thesis). For me, the most
difficult thing was to summarise my
thoughts on the thesis into the 300word
report, and balance the
descriptive elements (to show the
candidate’s attainment of the
assessment criteria) with the more
intellectual elements that commented
on scope and contribution to the
5
subject. In the end, I took 450 words,
and that still wasn’t enough.
In the viva
Although the external controls the
tempo and order of questions (most
internal examiners defer to the external
in this regard), their power is not
absolute. Some institutions, for
example, prohibit telling the candidate
the result of the thesis at the beginning
of the viva. Obviously, such comments
are subject to change inasmuch as the
candidate must still demonstrate that
the thesis is their own work.
Nevertheless, the practice of informing
candidates of the result at the start is
something with which I’m not
comfortable. The viva is a formal
examination, not an examination
formality, and to tell the candidate the
‘result’ can transform it into a tedious
Q&A exercise rather than a chance to
debate the thesis in detail.
The precise nature of the questions is
dependent upon the examiners. I
adopted a partially Socratic approach,
asking a (relatively) simple question to
begin, and then proceeding to more
challenging questions on the same
subject. For example, the first question
on a topic could be to define a concept
that is discussed within the thesis. This
is not because it hasn’t been read, but
to test how well the candidate knows
their thesis, and allow them to directly
refer to it; ‘Well, as I say in chapter
two…’ From that point, it is possible
to debate such definitions. This is not
to make the candidate question their
entire thesis and push them into a
corner, but to pull them into more
complex discussions and encourage
them to talk about and around the
thesis. Contrary to popular belief,
external examiners are people too and,
rather than seeking to fail a thesis,

we’re asking the candidate to
demonstrate its strengths.
Other questions can include asking
about the nature of the contribution the
thesis makes to the field, why a
particular methodology or text was
selected, and even—something learnt
from my own external examiner—
picking up on rhetorical nuances.
Being asked ‘Do you feel that your use
of the paralogical word ‘suggests’
weakened your argument?’ was
intimidating, but it demonstrated the
level of scrutiny that an examiner
brings to the thesis. The purpose of the
viva is, after all, to examine the entire
thesis, and such attention to detail is
invaluable later in re-writing the thesis
as a monograph.
Finally, the act of sending the
candidate out at the conclusion of the
viva may often seem unnecessary, but
it allows the examiners to confirm (or
amend) their initial recommendations
and gives them the opportunity to
agree formal comments on the
candidate’s viva. Interestingly, in the
institution I examined in, this period
also included the chair commenting
upon the conduct of the examination.
That is, both the internal and external
examiners had their viva performance
commented upon. This ensured that
nothing untoward had occurred, and
served to reassure me too.
After the viva
One of the most pleasant aspects of
being an external examiner is the time
after the viva (assuming all has gone
well). For me, the purpose of the
external is to both examine the project
and offer the candidate advice for the
future. I imagine I’ll be contacted in
due course regarding a monograph
deriving from project, and expect to act
as a referee for both academic jobs and
6
postdoctoral funding applications. In
order to do be able to do this
knowledgeably, and after an hour-anda-half
examination, post-viva ‘coffee
and cakes’ or an evening meal is a
must, to informally chat with both
candidate and supervisors. As much as
this is an opportunity to catch up with
colleagues in the field, however, it is
vital to remember, as Jeremy Hardy
says, ‘It’s not about you.’ This is the
candidate’s day, and although externals
are treated like royalty (albeit not like
Charles I or Edward II), we’re only
there because of the candidates; I think
it’s worth getting to know them a little.
Acting as an external examiner carries
responsibilities to both the discipline
and the candidate, and it takes time,
care, and more time and care. Yet were
anybody to ask me to do it again, my
answer would be simple: ‘Yes.’
Will Slocombe
Will Slocombe is Lecturer in Twentieth-
Century Literature at Aberystwyth University.
His research interests are diverse, and he is
always happy to discuss issues such as the
above. He thanks all the relevant parties at the
institution in which he examined for making
his first external examination so
straightforward.
Surviving your Viva
(and Mock-Viva)
Asked to provide a report
on one’s Viva Voce
barely a month after the
actual event, I suppose
the first response is a
faint feeling of nausea,
intermixed curiously with pride. There
is no getting away from the fact that
the impending viva is alarming; many

months of stress and exhaustion
precede the final, nerve-wracking
moment when you are faced with a
several-hour interrogation session,
which boils down to, in essence, one
ultimate question: ‘why should we let
you join this club?’
In all seriousness, however, it is a
relatively straight-forward and painless
procedure, once the attendant paranoia
and mystification are stripped away
(barring the submission forms which,
seen with hindsight, remain an
impenetrable form of torture). I was
lucky in that I can honestly say I had
excellent supervision and support from
those around me in the crucial run-up
period, which made the whole
experience, if not pleasant, then at least
manageable. But asked to offer tips or
advice, there are three points I would
suggest to those still waiting to
approach the bench: panic enough but
not too much; put nearly all of your
effort into worrying about the mockviva;
and be prepared to agree to things
indiscriminately.
‘That gap in chapter two’
The first is perhaps the most important
to remember. People will either spend
the weeks leading up to the viva telling
you that it will all be fine, and not
worry; or else, they will fill you up
with horrifying stories about their own
viva or those of people they have
known in the past. Obviously, the
more you are told not to worry, the
more you worry: it is an inverse law.
On the other hand, the chances are that
having gotten as far as you have, there
is little cause to suspect that you will
be in danger of any horrifying
outcome. The trick is to find
something small and only relatively
important on which to focus your
worry – such as the tortuous
submission forms, or that gap in
7
chapter two which you are quite sure
one of your examiners will question.
Not worrying at all is a physical
impossibility, but I found that
worrying about something small and
concrete was helpful when it came to
keeping calm – even if it did mean
reading chapter two at strange times of
the night. And that old favourite that
people pull out to comfort you with –
that it will be enjoyable discussing
your work with people who have read
it in detail and understood it – is, in
fact, true. So, worry, but not too much.
Proportionality is important.
The tough mock-viva
The mock-viva is an extremely
valuable tool, and without it I very
much doubt I would have found the
focus necessary to revise for the viva at
all. It is usually run a week before
your real viva by two members of the
department who are not your
supervisor(s), who will read a section
of your work (in my case, it was the
introduction), and then run the mockviva
in exactly the way your real viva
will be run, asking you the sorts of
questions you might expect to be asked
on the day, and maintaining the sort of
atmosphere you might encounter on
the day. Worry about it as you would
worry about your real viva. In the first
place, doing so is excellent preparation
for the real thing: the extra revision
will make you feel calmer in the end.
In the second place, you will not then
have too much energy left over for
needless worry in the last days before
the real viva. And for members of the
department who may be conducting
mock-vivas in the near future, I should
add that I found a tough mock-viva to
be very valuable: I found I came away
with confidence that if I could survive
the mock, I could survive anything.

And finally, as terrible as it sounds, I
found it calming to remember that the
viva is not the end of the line of the
thesis. Your examiners are not looking
for a finished (polished, static) piece of
work, they are not publishers, and you
will not be leaving your work alone
once the viva is over. In other words,
it is important to make sure your
examiners come away with a clear
sense that you understand your subject,
are aware of your limitations, and are
eager to make such adaptations as they
feel are necessary to make your thesis
as good as it can be. However, your
examiners do not have the final word
on the shape of your project. It is safe
to agree to changes you might not
necessarily be convinced by; you will
have a court of appeal when it comes
to sending the book for publication.
And besides, you will probably find
that the examiners were right in the
end. Your examiners are also an
excellent source of advice on the
adaptations you should make to your
work before trying to publish it, so
take full advantage of this – ask them
questions, and treasure the readers’
reports you receive afterwards.
The nerve-wracking bit
The viva itself is relatively painless.
There are typically four or five people
in the room: yourself, the internal and
external examiners, the chair, and your
supervisor if you have requested that
he or she be present. The chair sets the
room up, explains the procedure for the
viva, and invites you to enter or leave
the room at the appropriate times. It is
up to you whether you have your
supervisor present or not, but I found it
very reassuring and somehow soothing
to have mine present. After the
questions have been asked and
answered, and you have asked any
questions of your own, the examiners
will ask you to leave the room while
8
they make their decision. This is the
nerve-wracking bit; I would
recommend having coffee to hand. As
to the questions themselves, I found
one piece of advice to be very good:
don’t be afraid to ask for more time to
consider a question, or to come back to
a question later. But, I must add a
proviso: don’t forget to think of an
answer for when they do come back to
it!
On the whole, the viva is a thorny
experience; but in the end the reward is
worth much much more than the pain
of gaining it. Welcome to the club.
_______________________________
Jen Sattaur was awarded her PhD in late 2008
at Aberystwyth: her topic was representations
of childhood in late Victorian fiction, and she
is now in discussion with a number of presses
for the publication of her ‘book-of-the-thesis’.
_____________________________________
The long road to the PhD
I began my academic
journey as a mature
student in Coleg
Ceredigion in 2000. As
a result, I was accepted
by Aberystwyth and
chose to do a BA in English. In 2004 I
was successful in gaining funding for
my Masters and then for a PhD starting
in 2005. This meant that life as a
student was guaranteed for three
seemingly long years. I entered into the
PhD with some trepidation. Stories
abound of those who drop out, dry up
and falter at the final hurdle. It leaves
one feeling nervous at what might lie
ahead, and yet also with a sense of
belonging to a rather small and select
community of students.
The early days
The research modules were the first
elements of the PhD that I

encountered. Many mutterings were to
be heard by those who didn’t want to
be there, and yet, I met several
postgraduates from a variety of
disciplines who I am still friendly with
three years later. I always felt that
amongst the myriad information given,
there was usually something specific
for me to take away for my research;
one such was ‘time management’.
Though it seemed an obvious thing, the
reality was somewhat different.
Initially, time was taken up with
assignments for the research modules,
so, along with one’s own study, the
days, weeks, and first semester flew
by. When the modules came to an end,
the structure of the week seemed to
disappear and suddenly it was up to me
to organise my time.
Study time
This was a stage of my research when
that mysterious entity called ‘time
management’ would come into play.
So, I duly sat down and drew up a
weekly planner, taking into account all
other areas of my life. Having a young
family meant that it was difficult for
me to work after a certain time and still
keep my sanity. Therefore, I decided
that for me, a five day week with full-
time hours was the way forward. It
didn’t always work out. There are so
many things that happen that are
unexpected. So, I took the attitude that
I had to make up some of that time
wherever possible, even if that meant
evenings and week-ends.
I was always particularly keen to hand
in work and keep deadlines set by my
supervisor because it made me feel that
I was on target and heading in the right
direction. Problems arose when I
didn’t manage to work as much as I
wanted; sometimes, I would fall into
the classic trap of putting things off till
the following day. Then I would feel a
9
sense of guilt and the only thing that
made me feel better was to work. The
trick for me was simply to pick up a
book relevant to my research. This
would be a gentle way back into study
and would always lead me back –
academically and psychologically – to
where I needed to be.
The PhD often felt like a roller-coaster
ride of emotions. There would be days
when work would progress well and
the writing would flow. On another
occasion, I had to delete a complete
chapter that I felt no longer had a place
in the thesis as a whole – around
10,000 words! I worked hard on one
particular chapter and had an article
accepted by an important journal, but
the elation of something like this could
be undermined by my own lack of
confidence in another section of the
thesis. However, the continual
encouragement from the department,
friends and family, and a deep-seated
desire to succeed, kept me determined
and focused.
For me, part of being a postgraduate
also meant being a member of the
British Association of American
Studies and this entailed submitting
papers for the international
conferences – one of which became the
accepted article. I went to Canterbury,
Leicester and Edinburgh; all new
places with new people to meet. I
thoroughly enjoyed going to these
annual events despite the nervousness
of presenting in front of established
academics. My confidence grew with
each and every experience. The PhD
was offering me a chance to do so
much more than study, and I was more
than happy to accept all it could
possibly give.
‘Writing up’
The first two years had gone by so
quickly, but I still kept an eye on my

final submission date – 30 th September
2008. My final conference had been
attended and discussions of potential
external examiners became the topic of
conversation, rather than research. For
a while, I had felt that each chapter had
a life of its own and I couldn’t see how
it was all going to fit together.
However, once editing began in
earnest, the thesis began to gel. My life
now revolved around editing, tidying
up references, double checking the
bibliography and generally making
sure that the presentation was as
perfect as possible.
Meanwhile, the intention-to-submit
form was filled in, my internal and
external examiners were organised and
the editing continued unabated. There
came a point when I had to decide
when to stop and have the thesis
printed and bound. It was when my
supervisor commented that he was
happy if I was happy to hand in the
thesis that I finally did so. Once
handed in to the department, there was
a moment of euphoria followed swiftly
by a sense of ‘What now?’ Suddenly,
evenings and weekends became free of
research, writing and referencing and it
took a while to not feel guilty over
doing nothing!
The next moment of pure anxiety came
when the date of the viva was set – 18 th
December 2008. The mock viva was
organised for the week before and this
ended up being the best rehearsal I
could have. I was questioned for over
an hour on my work which made me
focus my thoughts, and along with
extra guidance from several willing
academics from the department, this
meant that I was as prepared as I could
be for the main event. Nerves,
adrenalin and my supervisor
accompanied me into the room on the
18 th December. However, what I had
built up to be a terrifying inquisition
10
became an in-depth discussion of my
research, my reasons and results. The
feeling of being told I had passed was
probably one of the best moments
imaginable. The grin that spread across
my face did not fade for days.
Memories of that day still have the
power to make me smile.
Nicky Cashman
_____________________________________
Nicky Cashman’s thesis on Self, Family and
Community in African American Literature,
1940-1970, was successfully completed at
Aberystwyth in January. She currently
manages CADAIR, the University’s online
repository.
_______________________________
The Insider,
or, On Being an
Internal Examiner
I sometimes wonder
(and sometimes while
actually doing it) what
internal examiners are
for. I mean as
examiners, rather than as the main
host-figure on the big day – the person
who shows the external where the loos
are, and provides such essentials as
coffee, the use of a computer, and
somewhere secure to leave coats and
bags which would otherwise have to be
carted round all day. These are
important duties, and entirely pleasant
to perform, but they are really just the
side-effects, so to speak, of being one
of the examiners. So I ask again, what
are internal examiners for?
No such question ever need be asked
of external examiners, for their role is,
self-evidently, to be the independent
subject expert and ‘scholarly
scrutineer’ who ensures that the thesis
is a genuine contribution to knowledge
in its field or sub-field. The internal’s

ole, by contrast, is much less definite,
so much so that he or she can often
seem to be just a pale shadow of the
external, someone who also has
expertise in the sub-field of the PhD
topic, but not quite so much of it (since
if they had, they would presumably
have been the supervisor rather than
the ‘mere’ internal).
Just a witness?
So in what ways might internals define
and refine their roles and hence feel
that they contribute something
distinctive to the viva? For it is
certainly dispiriting for an internal to
sense that they are really just there as a
witness - someone whose most
important contribution to the
examination process is a signature on
the sheaf of pink, yellow, blue and
green forms which have to be
processed at the end of the
proceedings. If the internal is truly
little more than a glorified witness,
then the considerable work of reading
the thesis, and then composing a
detailed critique and a set of pertinent
questions seems rather a waste of time.
Perhaps one useful way to conceive of
the internal’s role is to see it as
providing the breadth of knowledge
and expertise which complements the
external’s depth. On this model, the
internal’s questions would be broader
in scope than the internal’s, aimed
more at finding out (for instance) about
the candidate’s sense of the
relationship between the main
author(s) studied and the period as a
whole, rather than just about the
author’s specific texts and ideas. An
internal with such a brief might
usefully be thought of as a
‘dissemination scrutineer’, rather than
a ‘scholarly scrutineer’, that is, as
someone whose job is to ensure that
the thesis is capable of communicating
11
to an audience beyond its immediate
sub-field, and of meeting basic criteria
of readability and accessibility.
From thesis to book
Such a distinction would recognize that
there is a potential conflict between the
profession’s need for scholarliness and
originality on the one hand, and
considerations of impact, knowledgetransfer,
and dissemination on the
other. The effect of this shift in the
internal’s role might be to close the
gap a little between the thesis and the
book-of-the-thesis which most
candidates hope eventually to develop
from it. In this way, the two examiners
would reflect the contrasting demands
of the two poles of the ‘dual support’
system of research funding in the UK.
Thus, the RAE/REF pursues an ideal
of pure academic excellence, based on
the assumption that research of high
quality is recognisable as such by
competent peers in its own field, and
that they alone are able to decide that a
given piece of research is ‘an essential
point of reference in its field or subfield,
mak[ing] a contribution of which
every researcher in the field ought to
be aware’ (RAE 2008 documentation,
my italics). But the AHRC measure of
excellence is very different. To receive
grant funding, AHRC applicants must
be aware of the demands of
‘knowledge transfer’, which means
‘interaction with other audiences’ (my
italics, and I take ‘other’ to mean other
than a narrow group of relevant
professional sub-fielders). Successful
grant applicants must produce research
which is ‘widely disseminated’, and
which seeks ‘interaction with other
audiences’. So on this model, the
external examiner would put to the
candidate RAE/REF-type questions,
speaking on behalf of other researchers
in the same field, while the internal
would speak from the AHRC

viewpoint, and put questions on behalf
of the ‘other audiences’ who might
potentially derive some benefit and
insight from the thesis.
Changing the bowling
Of course, that is not the whole of the
matter, for sometimes, the internal’s
function is more practical: for instance,
it is difficult to make notes when
engaged in the to-and-fro exchange of
questioning, prompting, and seeking
supplementary points. Hence, a change
of bowling can be useful, enabling the
external to jot down a few brief notes
and re-organise the remaining
questions. Sometimes, too, an external
can seem to be driving rather
relentlessly at the same point for quite
a long time, causing the candidate’s
batting to become cramped and
negatively defensive. In these
circumstances, an internal can provide
a change of mood, helping the
candidate to regain poise and fluency.
Overall, two questioners will find out
more than one (which is why interview
panels usually consist of several
people). But it would, I think, be of
benefit to all parties if we were able to
establish a few broad distinctions
between the examining briefs of the
two examiners. It would still be the
case (and quite rightly) that the final
say on the outcome would belong to
the external – PhD externals in that
regard have greater powers than
undergraduate externals – but the
internal should have a more distinct
and defined area of responsibility than
is presently the case, and would
therefore have a greater sense on the
day of performing a specific role, not
just as a host, but also as an examiner.
Peter Barry
This piece draws on an earlier article in the
Times Higher and anticipates points to be
made at a forthcoming conference ‘The
Doctor's Dilemma: the PhD in English studies’
_____________________________________
12
PRESS RELEASE - 20.2.09
An all-women shortlist of Welsh writers has
been chosen to compete for one of Wales's top
literary prizes next month.
The four writers will be vying for the £2,000
Roland Mathias Prize for Welsh writing in
English, which will be awarded on Friday 27
March in Brecon at a ceremony supported by
BBC Wales and hosted by Nicola Heywood
Thomas, presenter of BBC Radio Wales's Arts
Show. All the shortlisted writers will be
invited to talk about their work.
The biennial prize is awarded for a work
published during the last two years in the field
of poetry, short stories, literary criticism or
Welsh history. For the first time, the judges
have chosen two works of literary criticism,
charting the history of Welsh writing.
A university lecturer at
Aberystwyth, Sarah
Prescott is shortlisted for her
latest work, Eighteenth
Century Writing From
Wales: Bards And Britons
(published by University of
Wales Press). The book is
described as bringing
together ‘poems and
sermons, travel writing and antiquarianism,
translation and prose fiction’ which show ‘the
sense of Welsh distinctiveness and strength of
national feeling during a period usually
characterised as one of Anglicisation’.
Also selected is Jane Aaron, Professor of
English at the University of Glamorgan, for
Nineteenth Century Women's Writing In
Wales: Nation, Gender And Identity (also
published by the University of Wales Press).
The book introduces readers to 100 Welsh
women authors writing in both languages.
Also on the shortlist are a poet and a writer of
short stories. Sheenagh Pugh, who lives in
Cardiff, is nominated for her latest poetry
collection, Long Haul Travellers (published by
Seren). The short-story writer is Carys Davies,
shortlisted for her collection Some New
Ambush (published by Salt).

Recent Books from the
Aberystwyth English Department
The latest poetry collection
from Richard Marggraf
Turley is published by Salt
on 1 st March 2009. It is
entitled Wan-Hu’s Flying
Chair, and it ‘explores the
“furious stillness” of love
and art.’ The terrific title
poem was first aired at the
Aberystwyth Poetry Workshop, which is
organised by Matthew Francis, and has seen an
astonishing number of poetry collections and
magazine contributions published by its
members since its inception in 2004. The
Cambridge-based ‘Salt Publications’ has
become to contemporary poetry in the postmillennial
era what Bloodaxe Books was in
the1980s and 90s. It is, in other words, the
home of many of today’s cutting-edge poets,
poetry, and poetics. It is, in other words, the
home of many of today’s cutting-edge poets,
poetry, and poetics.
The third edition of Peter
Barry’s Beginning Theory was
published by Manchester
University Press at the end of
January, with two new chapters:
chapter 14 is ‘A history of
theory in ten events’, and chapter 15, ‘Theory
after theory’, gives the low-down on such new
‘isms’ as New Aestheticism, Presentism,
Transversal Poetics, Historical Formalism, and
Cognitive Poetics.
At the same time, the
Ukrainian translation of the
2 nd edition of ПiTep Бappi’s
book was published by
Smoloskyp, Kyiv (or Kiev, if
we must). The same
publishers have also
commissioned translations of
two other books in the
‘Beginnings’ series, Tim Woods’ Beginning
Postmodernism, and Beginning
Postcolonialism by John MacLeod (University
of Leeds), both of which will be published in
2009/10. Both these books also have expanded
second editions (for the UK, USA and RoW)
appearing later in 2009 from Manchester
University Press.
13
CEDAR is a two-year Postgraduate
training scheme in the use of
hypermedia tools in the Arts and
Humanities.
For more information contact
Programme leaders
Dr. Astrid Ensslin at
a.ensslin@bangor.ac.uk
or
Dr Will Slocombe at
wws@aber.ac.uk.
Partners
Dr Jess Laccetti,
Research Fellow, Institute of Creative
Technologies, De Montfort University
Dr James Pope, Senior Lecturer, Media
School, Bournemouth University
____________________________________