Artykuły w czasopismach na temat „Archivio storico per Trieste”

Dallo spoglio dei nomi personali attestati nei sette codici di entrate e uscite conservati presso l' Archivio Capitolare di S. Giusto in Trieste e che riguardano uno dei secoli piu ricchi di testimonianze storiche della città giuliana (1307-1406), risultano numerose forme cognominali e soprannominali espresse nel registro linguistico tergestino. La mancata pubblicazione del dizionario linguistico tergestino di Mario Doria rende impossibile un raffronto con il materiale lessicale tergestino fino a oggi noto, per cui si basa, a fini comparativi, esclusivamente sui due repertori lessicali tergestini dal Doria finora publicati (Elementi friulaneggianti ne/ dialetto triestino, in Italia linguistica nuova ed antica II, Galatina 1978, 329-405; Nuovi materiali per lo studio degli elementi lessicali friulaneggianti del dialetto triestino, in Archivio per l' Alto Adige LXVII, 1979 (Studi in memoria di Carlo Battisti editi dall'Istituto di Studi per l' Alto Adige), Firenze 1979, 65-100); sul Dizionario del dialetto muglisano di Diomiro Zudini e Pierpaolo Dorsi (Casamassima, Udine 1981) e sui due grandi vocabolari friulani: II nuovo Pirana di Giulio Andrea Pirona, Ercole Carletti e Giovanni Battista Corgnali (Udine 1935, rist. 1977) e il Vocabolario de/la linguafriu/ana di Giorgio Faggin (Del Bianco, Udine 1985).

Tre istituzioni culturali del Basso Isontino, una italiana, la principale promotrice della pubblicazione, e due slovene, hanno reso possibile l'apparizione di questo impor­ tante studio della toponomastica del territorio monfalconese di Maurizio Puntin, frut­ to di un lungo, decennale lavoro. Vogliamo sottolineare subito l'attributo storico nel ti­ tolo. L'autore non si è limitato all'esame della toponomastica nello stato attuale; ha fatto una minuziosa ricerca negli archivi e ha esplorato i catasti e codici e, inoltre, anche i due preziosi schedari di Corgnali, antroponimico e toponimico, giacenti presso la Bi­ blioteca Civica di Udine. Per ciò la qualifica di "storico" è del tutto giustificata: vi sono elencati i toponimi (e microtoponimi!) di un ristretto territorio, quello monfalconese attraverso secoli, alcuni addirittura tramandati dagli storici greci e latini. Il vero inte­ resse rimangono, certo, i toponimi che mostrano la fluttuazione delle etnie dal Medio Evo in poi. Per convincerci dell'assiduo lavoro dell'autore è sufficiente sottolineare l'ab­ bondante uso del Catasto Napoleonico, del 1818. Un altro ricercatore dei microtoponi­ mi di un territorio tutto sommato non troppo distante e comunque per qualche aspet­ to simile al monfalconese, il linguista e etnologo friulano Roberto Dapit esaminando i microtoponimi nella valle di Resia ha constatato che i catasti napoleonici superano, per quanto riguarda la precisione e l'esattezza, quelli fatti nell'epoca dell'amministrazione austriaca e anche quelli posteriori. Il che è un elogio alla burocrazia francese. Sia detto per l'inciso, fultimo decreto riguardante Trieste, [più precisamente le tariffe dell'entrepôt triestino,J fu firmato da Napoleone nel 1812, mentre si trovava alle porte di Mosca (!).

L’autrice, dopo aver visionato gli archivi regionali e nazionali, che conservano i fondi relativi all’amministrazione della zona B del Territorio Libero di Trieste, presenta una scelta delle raccolte analizzate. Queste possono venir oggi utilizzate per delineare in maniera sempre più chiara le vicende occorse nella penisola istriana dal 1945 al 1956, ed alcuni suoi momenti fondamentali come la rottura con il Cominform, l’amministrazione locale, il trasferimento di massa della popolazione autoctona. In questo periodo, dopo una lunga e plurisecolare permanenza sul proprio territorio d’insediamento storico, la popolazione italiana diventa minoranza. Un contributo importante allo sviluppo della storiografia regionale può essere dato pure da fonti di nuova tipologia, come ad esempio i filmati e le fotografie d’epoca, fino ad ora usate in parte minima.

Il nome della nota località balneare istriana Rabac (in grafia italianeggiante Rabaz) è attestato già nel 1341 sotto la forma Rabaç, precisamente negli Statuti di Albona [Labin] (cfr. P. Kandler "L'Istria" III, 1848, pp. 14 s.). A questo Rabaç fa riscontro, nel '500, Rabaz, che incontriamo nell'Itinerario Bragadin-Lando-Morosini dell'a. 1554 (ed. M. Bertoša VHARP 17, 1972, p. 41) e nel Catastico di Fabio da Canal dell'a. 1566 (ed. D. Klein, ib. 11-12, 1966-67, pp. 16- bis, 62). Rabaz ricompare in Carlo Donadoni, a. 1719 (P. Kandler Emporio p. 96, in "Miscellanea Conti" 1861-62), in un documento dell'a. 1749 (P. Kandler cit. p. 282), nonché nel Catasto di V. Morosini IV, a. 1775-76 (ed. M. Bratulić, Trieste-Fiume 1980, pp. 349-352). Anche la cartografia veneta di fine '700 attesta la forma Rabaz, così la nota carta dell'Istria Meridionale di Giov. Valle (Venezia 1784). Rabaz ricompare nel Reperto-Bargnani dell'a. 1806' (ed. E. Apih, ACRSR 12, 1981-82, p. 219), nell "' A vviso della Commissione per la vendita dei beni dello Sta to del Litorale", Trieste 15-1-1825 (Archivio di Stato, per gentile informazione del dott. Pierpaolo Dorsi), in Carlo Combi a. 1858-59 (cfr. E. Apih cit. p. 321) ecc. Rammenteremo anche la forma Rabatz (alternante con Rabaz) in R. P. Burton Note sopra i Castellieri (Capodistria 1877) p. 35 e Rabas (nella locuzione Porto Rabas in alcune carte geografiche del 1753 e 1780, Lago-Rossit OH indici), nonché in P. Tedeschi Viaggio fantastico in Oga Magoga, 1863, su cui v. P. Blasi "Voce Giul." 1-6-1984 p. 4). Abbastanza comune anche la locuzione Porto Rabaz, soprattutto nella cartografia istriana a partire dall'a. 1620 fino al 1797 (vedi gli indici in Lago-Rossit cit.): ricorderemo fra queste la Carta Geografka del Coronelli (Venezia 1696) nonché la Carta Santini ("à Venise" ante 1780, cfr. fot. in E. Schwarzenberg Plstr. 44 s. V, f. 8-9, 1980, p. 12); fra i moderni citeremo M. Gerbini Quaderni di Fianona (Trieste 1976) p. 41 e M. Catano, "In Strada Granda" N. 27 (aprile 1986) p. 26 e qualche altro.

Il fondo librario e le carte di Hubert Jedin sono conservati presso la Biblioteca della Fondazione Bruno Kessler di Trento. Nel ripercorrere i passi di Jedin negli anni in cui si veniva a formare l'Istituto Storico Italo-Germanico e le vicende conservative dei suoi libri e del suo archivio dopo la sua morte, l'articolo mostra l'importanza di questi fondi per la ricerca sulla storiografia del XX secolo; grazie alla varietà del materiale conservato è possibile soprattutto ricostruire l'ampio network scientifico e il metodo di lavoro dello storico. In particolare, un manoscritto inedito sulla biblioteca di Carlo Borromeo conservato nel Fondo Jedin consente di gettare luce su aspetti ancora poco indagati della sua ricerca, ovvero gli interessi in materia di storia culturale e del libro dello storico del Concilio e il rapporto con Paolo Prodi negli anni in cui entrambi svilupparono i loro studi sui Borromeo.

Negli anni Settanta Enzo Collotti si spese come storico, collaborando con la magistratura, affinché fosse avviata l'istruttoria per il processo della Risiera di S. Sabba di Trieste. Successivamente, egli intervenne in più sedi per esprimere la delusione provata dagli storici per la sentenza del 1976. Collotti infatti definì il processo come "dimezzato", in quanto a suo avviso la magistratura locale non aveva voluto fare un processo politico, e quindi affrontare le responsabilità del fascismo e del collaborazionismo per i fatti del 1943-1945.

Il saggio fornisce un'introduzione storica sul saggio di Emanuele Ciaceri, La festa di Sant'Agata e l'antico culto di Iside in Catania, edito sull'«Archivio Storico per la Sicilia Orientale» nel 1905 e riproposto in questo fascicolo. Ne vengono ricostruite le linee interpretative e le fonti utilizzate, così come l'impatto storiografico. L'indagine dello studioso siciliano rimane una lezione di mestiere, per le raffinate competenze filologiche, storiche e archeologiche messe in campo nell'elaborazione della sua tesi sulla festa etnea. Sicuramente il suo orientamento conservatore, che si concretizzerà più avanti nell'adesione al fascismo, ne ha condizionato in termini ideologici l'orizzonte teorico, determinando in larga misura i risultati delle sue ricerche.

The author of polish origin, sets the political determinants of Moldovan Csango identity in a historical perspective. Her study’s outcome is based on her documentation work made in the Vatican Secret Archives (Archivio Segreto Vaticano) as well as at the Saint Congregation for Evangelization (Archivio Storico della Congregazione per l”Evanghelizazzione dei Popoli), till now a missing body of documents within csango studies. In her paper the author focuses on the political forces that affected identity change among the Csangos, embracing the period from 1860 to 1916. The insightful conclusion of the study unravells a Vatican who’s worries for it’s own influence in an orthodox country like Romania, though aware of its subjects true needs, make it accept conditions set by the Romanian Government, and with it’s own catholicism-disseminating actions finally contributed to the linguistic, religious and cultural „meeting process” of both the Csango and Romanian population

L'argomento di questa ricerca trae spunto da due miei precedenti lavori trattanti l'uno i nomi per la gerarchia ecclesiastica in sloveno, l'altro quelli per il medesimo settore lessicale in croato. Il primo apparve in veste monografica (La Chiesa in Slovena. Analisi filologico-etimologica della gerarchia ecc!esiastica con particolare riguardo ai testi del Cinquecento, Centro studi storico-religiosi Friuli-Venezia Giulia, 14, Trieste 1984), il secondo in forma di articolo nella Rivista di Scienza religiose Studia Patavina (I nomi della gerarchia ecclesiastica in croato, Studia Patavina 37 (1990) l, Padova 1990, p. 97-117.

L’articolo analizza comparativamente tre diversi contesti e organizzazioni dell’accoglienza per richiedenti asilo nell’area di confine italo-slovena a partire dal 2015, dopo la riapertura della cosiddetta “rotta balcanica” come ingresso europeo via terra. Attraverso interviste e osservazione partecipante si evidenziano le differenze fra il CARA di Gradisca, confinato in una grande caserma militarizzata ai margini della vita sociale, un inserimento SPRAR nel Villaggio del Pescatore, fondato da una comunità di profughi del dopoguerra, ed il modello efficiente dell’accoglienza diffusa di Trieste che distribuisce i migranti in appartamenti con forme di autogestione coordinata. Lo scenario di Trieste include anche un insediamento abusivo in un luogo storico di precedenti migrazioni forzate, dove i migranti sfuggono alla logica dicotomica che contrappone assistenza/respingimento per collocarsi con strategie di posizionamento in un’area grigia nello spazio di frontiera tra regime autoritario e umanitario. L’interpretazione dei micro-contesti riesce a fare emergere l’esito di scelte divergenti sia nell’organizzazione e management dell’ospitalità (grosso centro militarizzato, ospitalità diffusa, SPRAR), sia nelle diverse rappresentazioni mediatiche e politiche, con ricadute nelle vite quotidiane di migranti, cittadini e operatori coinvolti.

Luigi (Gino) Pagliarani (Rimini, 1922-Sorengo, 2001) è stato uno dei protagonisti della ricerca psicologica in Italia nella seconda parte del XX secolo. È considerato il padre fondatore della psicosocioanalisi, disciplina volta alla comprensione degli aspetti in-consci e conflittuali nello sviluppo degli individui, dei gruppi e della società. Questo progetto di ricerca intende ricostruire le vicende biografiche di Luigi Pagliarani nella convinzione che esse abbiano svolto un ruolo decisivo nella genesi dei suoi interessi scientifici. Per raggiungere tale obiettivo è necessario esaminare molti documenti inedi-ti di notevolissimo valore storico conservati presso l'Archivio Luigi Pagliarani – oggi situato all'interno del "Centro di documentazione e ricerca" della clinica psichiatrica di Mendrisio. I diversi periodi della vita di Pagliarani – riportati alla luce per mezzo di un approfondito lavoro filologico – confluiranno in una biografia ragionata, umana e intellettuale, che sia riflesso ed espressione dell'Archivio. La biografia dialogherà con un apparato di immagini e un piccolo catalogo digitale dei documenti più significativi. Quella dello psicologo riminese fu per molti aspetti una vita straordinaria: figlio di un antifascista perseguitato durante il ventennio, nel 1943 Pagliarani viene deportato in un Lager in Germania. Rientrato in Italia svolge insieme a Franco Fornari alcune pionie-ristiche ricerche sulla psicologia della guerra atomica e incontra la psicoanalista ticine-se Maria Zanetta che più tardi diventerà sua moglie. Occorre inoltre menzionare l'amicizia che strinse con Federico Fellini e Sergio Zavoli. Il prodotto di questo proget-to di ricerca costituisce una novità nel panorama degli studi di storia della psicologia e valorizza le grandi potenzialità di un Archivio che non è mai stato studiato in modo si-stematico. Inoltre, questo progetto contribuisce alla conoscenza di una personalità che ebbe profondi legami – umani e professionali – con la Svizzera italiana.

The five books under review represent some of the recent achievements of Italian historiography of the early modern period. The gradual opening of Inquisitional archives in the 1990s and the growing sophistication of historical analysis of Inquisitorial documents have expanded dramatically our knowledge of and familiarity with the institutional and legal histories of the Inquisition and of the operation of justice in the Italian peninsula. One result of this is that the earlier and innovative work of Carlo Ginzburg in Inquisitorial archives has come under scrutiny. The books under review present a new view of the functioning of the Italian Inquisition, and by so doing shed new light on issues of authority and power in early modern Italy. Implicitly, the books under review also posit themselves against microstoria and address the larger working of power over long periods of time.

Trieste è stata, per un certo periodo di tempo, un privilegiato punto di osservazione sui principali fatti del mondo, in quanto sede di importanti compagnie di navigazione e di assicurazioni che fondavano i loro traffici e i loro interessi sulla raccolta e l’analisi puntuale della situazione internazionale. Infatti il giornalista triestino Silvio Benco dimostra notevole attenzione per la “geopolitica”, una disciplina che si afferma alla fine del XIX secolo come strumento di interpretazione dei fatti della politica internazionale in relazione alla geografia terrestre. Grazie agli strumenti scientifici della geopolitica, egli è in grado di esaminare la trasformazione degli equilibri internazionali nei primi 50 anni del XX secolo, prestando attenzione ad alcuni aspetti molto importanti: la corsa agli armamenti delle grandi potenze europee per ottenere il predominio marittimo con spese così pesanti da pregiudicare l’economia dei singoli Stati; l’affermazione di nuove potenze (Giappone e Stati Uniti) che si contendono l’Oceano Pacifico e il declino dell’Impero russo messo in crisi dalla grave situazione interna; il declino dell’Europa dove i sistemi politici sembrano troppo fragili ed incapaci di dare vita ad una società realmente democratica, in essi prevalgono le spinte autoritarie e l’ascesa delle caste militari in pieno accordo con i circoli finanziari e industriali; la crisi balcanica che accelera il processo di dissoluzione dell’Impero austro-ungarico e dell’Impero ottomano, aprendo un pericoloso varco negli equilibri dell’Europa sud orientale. Infine, dopo la seconda guerra mondiale, Silvio Benco ripone molta fiducia nella possibilità di costruire un nuovo spirito europeo in considerazione degli errori che hanno portato ad un conflitto più terribile del precedente. Benco è consapevole che l’Europa ha esaurito il suo ruolo storico rinunciando da tempo alla cultura e allo spirito liberale, il continente sembra escluso dal futuro. La maggiore preoccupazione di Benco è la perdita di identità: egli è attratto dal progresso e dalla modernità ma guarda con diffidenza i grandi movimenti di massa che sembrano non controllabili.

INTRODUZIONE La metodologia della ricerca storica indaga sul valore epistemologico dei risultati prodotti; analizza, corregge e migliora il metodo. Il metodo della ricerca storica presuppone quattro fasi: ricerca fonti, confronto e analisi, ricostruzione ordinata dei fatti ed interpretazione; che deve essere imparziale ed oggettiva. Utilizzato necessariamente per l’attendibilità scientifica al lavoro storico e a permettere di distinguere il vero (da cui scaturiscono conoscenze effettive) dal falso. Nel 1917 fu pubblicato nella rivista l’Ospedale Maggiore un articolo in cui veniva descritta la condizione dell’infermiera all’interno del medesimo nosocomio milanese. SCOPO Analizzare e interpretare una fonte storica per fornire agli studenti del Corso di Laurea Infermieristica una delle possibili metodologie e strumenti da poter utilizzare ai fini della ricerca storica infermieristica. METODI E MATERIALI Fonte cartacea a stampa del 1917 conservata presso Archivio Storico IRCCS Ca’ Granda Ospedale Maggiore Policlinico di Milano. Strumenti digitali utilizzati: mappatura archivi e biblioteche tramite sito web Beni Culturali Regione Lombardia; archivio digitalizzato Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Roma. RISULTATI Procedimento metodologico: schedatura fonte; classificazione; analisi estrinseca-intrinseca; tabella di confronto tra le fonti; collegamento con il contesto storico; presentare e interpretare una fonte. CONCLUSIONE Le fonti, elemento imprescindibile per qualsiasi tipo di ricerca, cui lo storico attinge per analizzare un fenomeno. L’utilizzo critico delle fonti mediante metodo rigoroso porta a porre quesiti da risolvere se non prima di aver superato lo scoglio dell’autenticità. Successivamente occorre trascriverle non perdendo d’occhio la contestualizzazione ed il confronto tra più fonti, per giungere alla ricostruzione quanto più veritiera e fedele alla realtà dei fatti.

Il gruppo di lavoro dell’Archivio storico di Udi Bologna ha realizzato un podcast di contenuto storico-didattico dedicato alla questione della partecipazione politica delle donne alla Comunità europea. Il podcast, dal titolo “Donne d’Europa. Le italiane e le prime elezioni del Parlamento Europeo”, è stato pensato secondo i principi della public history, a partire dalle preziose fonti conservate nell’archivio di Udi Bologna, con l’obiettivo di raccontare le elezioni del 1979 per il Parlamento Europeo, le prime dirette.

Il presente lavoro indaga sulle molteplici funzione del materiale d’archivio nelle opere intermediali del regista, musicista e artista visivo Roberto Paci Dalò (1962), basandosi su un’intervista inedita condotta recentemente. Materiale reperito in archivi internazionali, disegni, immagini e video catturati in viaggio, ritratti, campionamenti sono il perno attorno al quale Paci Dalò costruisce le proprie topografie sonore: dall’album Napoli (1993), che offre un ritratto sonoro della città partenopea a Ye Shanghai (2013), realizzato grazie ad un’intensa ricerca di archivio riguardante il cosiddetto “Settore ristretto per i rifugiati apolidi” della metropoli orientale nel periodo dell’occupazione giapponese, e alle installazioni site-specific De bello Gallico (2011) e Greuelmärchen. La conversazione, dedicata all’archivio sia come luogo fisico, che come modus operandi, mette in risalto i molteplici piani di realtà da cui attinge l’“archivio d’artista”, dal documento storico all’opera d’arte intermediale, che fa del proprio autore oggetto e fruitore allo stesso tempo.

La parola «archivio» deriva dal greco ἀρχεῖον e dal latino archīvum ed indica un insieme ordinato ed inventariato di documenti, sia essi pubblici che privati, che si riferiscono ad una collezione che può avere anche valore storico. Tuttavia la parola «archivio» non solo definisce la raccolta documentaria ma con lo stesso termine si indica il luogo in cui tali documenti sono custoditi. In realtà sin dall’antichità l’uomo ha avvertito la necessità di lasciare testimonianza del suo passaggio e lo ha fatto mediante azioni diversificate. Tra queste certamente la rappresentazione del linguaggio, prima con l’incisione e poi con la nascita della scrittura (già intorno al 3400 a. C. in Mesopotamia con i Sumeri), ha costituito uno strumento fondamentale affinché l’uomo potesse descrivere e pertanto trasmettere al futuro la propria storia. É stata questa una prima importante formazione di archiviazione delle informazioni.Ovviamente il concetto si è evoluto tanto che in Italia già dal 78 a.C. a Roma si trovava il Tabularium ossia il luogo in cui erano custodite le tavole delle leggi relative allo Stato Romano. Così il concetto di archivio sin dall’epoca romana e per tutto il periodo medievale ha rappresentato nient’altro che il «luogo nel quale gli atti pubblici sono custoditi affinché acquisiscano fede pubblica» , ossia un valore legale.

Rostovtzeff e Macchioro, studiosi diversissimi sui piani umano e scientifico, non coltivarono mai un rapporto di amichevole collaborazione, tranne che negli anni 1910-13, come attestano le uniche sette lettere sinora note dello studioso russo a Macchioro, conservate nel “Fondo Macchioro” dell’Università di Trieste. Nelle due lettere del 1910 Rostovtzeff richiese a Macchioro fotografie di pitture murali pompeiane, nelle cinque lettere del 1912-1913 concordò l’argomento di un breve articolo per la neonata rivista “Neapolis” diretta da Macchioro. Nell’articolo Rostovtzeff sintetizzò la propria interpretazione storico-artistica degli Ipogei Lagrasta di Canosa, a cui si interessò anche Macchioro. Alla fine degli anni Trenta, lo studioso triestino fu contattato da un Vito Lagrasta, funzionario della Segreteria del PNF, che ambiva a comporre una monografia sugli Ipogei canosini.

Historical fiction, a widely-read genre, continues to engender contradiction and controversy within the fields of literature and historiography. This paper begins with a discussion of the differences and similarities between historical writing and the historical novel, focusing on the way these forms interpret and represent the past. It then examines the dilemma facing historians as they try to come to terms with the modern era and the growing competition from other modes of presenting history. Finally, it considers claims by Australian historians that so-called “fictive history” has been bestowed with historical authority to the detriment of traditional historiography. The Fact/Fiction Dichotomy Hayden White, a leading critic in the field of historiography, claims that the surge in popularity of historical fiction and the novel form in the nineteenth century caused historians to seek recognition of their field as a serious “science” (149). Historians believed that, to be scientific, historical studies had to cut ties with any form of artistic writing or imaginative literature, especially the romantic novel. German historian Leopold von Ranke “anathematized” the historical novel virtually from its first appearance in Scott’s Waverley in 1814. Hayden White argues that Ranke and others after him wrote history as narrative while eschewing the use of imagination and invention that were “exiled into the domain of ‘fiction’ ” (149-150). Early critics in the nineteenth century questioned the value of historical fiction. Famous Cuban poet Jose Maria Heredia believed that history was opposite and superior to fiction; he accused the historical novel of degrading history to the level of fiction which, he argued, is lies (cited in de Piérola 152). Alessandro Manzoni, though partially agreeing with Heredia, argued that fiction had value in its “poetic truth” as opposed to the “positive truth” of history (153). He eventually decided that the historical novel fails through the mixing of the incompatible elements of history and fiction, which can lead to deception (ibid). More than a hundred years after Heredia, Georg Lukács, in his much-cited The Historical Novel, first published in 1937, was more concerned with the social aspect of the historical novel and its capacity to portray the lives of its protagonists. This form of writing, through its attention to the detail of minor events, was better at highlighting the social aspects than the greater moments of history. Lukács argues that the historical novel should focus on the “poetic awakening” of those who participated in great historical events rather than the events themselves (42). The reader should be able to experience first-hand “the social and human motives which led men to think, feel and act just as they did in historical reality” (ibid). Through historical fiction, the reader is thus able to gain a greater understanding of a specific period and why people acted as they did. In contrast to these early critics, historian and author of three books on history and three novels, Richard Slotkin, argues that the historical novel can recount the past as accurately as history, because it should involve similar research methods and critical interpretation of the data (225). Kent den Heyer and Alexandra Fidyk go even further, suggesting that “historical fiction may offer a more plausible representation of the past than those sources typically accepted as more factual” (144). In its search for “poetic truth,” the novel tries to create a sense of what the past was, without necessarily adhering to all the factual details and by eliminating facts not essential to the story (Slotkin 225). For Hayden White, the difference between factual and fictional discourse, is that one is occupied by what is “true” and the other by what is “real” (147). Historical documents may provide a basis for a “true account of the world” in a certain time and place, but they are limited in their capacity to act as a foundation for the exploration of all aspects of “reality.” In White’s words: The rest of the real, after we have said what we can assert to be true about it, would not be everything and anything we could imagine about it. The real would consist of everything that can be truthfully said about its actuality plus everything that can be truthfully said about what it could possibly be. (ibid) White’s main point is that both history and fiction are interpretative by nature. Historians, for their part, interpret given evidence from a subjective viewpoint; this means that it cannot be unbiased. In the words of Beverley Southgate, “factual history is revealed as subjectively chosen, subjectively interpreted, subjectively constructed and incorporated within a narrative” (45). Both fiction and history are narratives, and “anyone who writes a narrative is fictionalising,” according to Keith Jenkins (cited in Southgate 32). The novelist and historian find meaning through their own interpretation of the known record (Brown) to produce stories that are entertaining and structured. Moreover, historians often reach conflicting conclusions in their translations of the same archival documents, which, in the extreme, can spark a wider dispute such as the so-called history wars, the debate about the representation of the Indigenous peoples in Australian history that has polarised both historians and politicians. The historian’s purpose differs from that of the novelist. Historians examine the historical record in fine detail in an attempt to understand its complexities, and then use digressions and footnotes to explain and lend authority to their findings. The novelist on the other hand, uses their imagination to create personalities and plot and can leave out important details; the novelist achieves authenticity through detailed description of setting, customs, culture, buildings and so on (Brown). Nevertheless, the main task of both history and historical fiction is to represent the past to a reader in the present; this “shared concern with the construction of meaning through narrative” is a major component in the long-lasting, close relationship between fiction and history (Southgate 19). However, unlike history, the historical novel mixes fiction and fact, and is therefore “a hybrid of two genres” (de Piérola 152); this mixture of supposed opposites of fact and fiction creates a dilemma for the theorist, because historical fiction cannot necessarily be read as belonging to either category. Attitudes towards the line drawn between fiction and history are changing as more and more critics and theorists explore the area where the two genres intersect. Historian John Demos argues that with the passing of time, this distinction “seems less a boundary than a borderland of surprising width and variegated topography” (329). While some historians are now willing to investigate the wide area where the two genres overlap, this approach remains a concern for traditionalists. History’s Dilemma Historians face a crisis as they try to come to terms with the postmodern era which has seen unprecedented questioning of the validity of history’s claim to accuracy in recounting the past. In the words of Jenkins et al., “ ‘history’ per se wobbles” as it experiences a period of uncertainty and challenge; the field is “much changed and deeply contested,” as historians seek to understand the meaning of history itself (6). But is postmodernism the cause of the problem? Writing in 1986 Linda Hutcheon, well known for her work on postmodernism, attempted to clarify the term as it is applied in modern times in reference to fiction, where, she states, it is usually taken to mean “metafiction, or texts which are in some dominant and constitutive way self-referential and auto-representational” (301). To eliminate any confusion with regard to concept or terminology, Hutcheon coined the phrase “historiographic metafiction," which includes “the presence of the past” in “historical, social, and ideological” form (302). As examples, she cites contemporary novels The French Lieutenant’s Woman, The White Hotel, Midnight’s Children and Famous Last Words. Hutcheon explains that all these works “self-consciously focus on the processes of producing and receiving paradoxically fictive historical writing” (ibid). In the Australian context, Peter Carey’s True History of the Kelly Gang and Richard Flanagan’s Gould’s Book of Fish could be added to the list. Like the others, they question how historical sources maintain their status as authentic historical documents in the context of a fictional work (302). However, White argues that the crisis in historical studies is not due to postmodernism but has materialised because historians have failed to live up to their nineteenth century expectations of history being recognised as a science (149). Postmodernists are not against history, White avows; what they do not accept “is a professional historiography” that serves self-seeking governing bodies with its outdated and severely limited approach to objectivity (152). This kind of historiography has denied itself access to aesthetic writing and the imaginary, while it has also cut any links it had “to what was most creative in the real sciences it sought half-heartedly to emulate” (ibid). Furthering White’s argument, historian Robert Rosenstone states that past certitude in the claims of historians to be the sole guardians of historical truth now seem outdated in the light of our accumulated knowledge. The once impregnable position of the historian is no longer tenable because: We know too much about framing images and stories, too much about narrative, too much about the problematics of causality, too much about the subjectivity of perception, too much about our own cultural imperatives and biases, too much about the disjuncture between language and the world it purports to describe to believe we can actually capture the world of the past on the page. (Rosenstone 12) While the archive confers credibility on history, it does not confer the right to historians to claim it as the truth (Southgate 6); there are many possible versions of the past, which can be presented to us in any number of ways as history (Jenkins et al. 1). And this is a major challenge for historians as other modes of representing the past cater to public demand in place of traditional approaches. Public interest in history has grown over the last 20 years (Harlan 109). Historical novels fill the shelves of bookstores and libraries, while films, television series and documentaries about the past attract large audiences. In the words of Rosenstone, “people are hungry for the past, as various studies tell us and the responses to certain films, TV series and museums indicate” (17). Rosenstone laments the fact that historians, despite this attraction to the past, have failed to stir public interest in their own writings. While works of history have their strengths, they target a specific, extremely limited audience in an outdated format (17). They have forgotten the fact that, in the words of White, “the conjuring up of the past requires art as well as information” (149). This may be true of some historians, but there are many writers of non-fiction, including historians, who use the narrative voice and other fictional techniques in their writings (Ricketson). Matthew Ricketson accuses White of confusing “fiction with literariness,” while other scholars take fiction and narrative to be the same thing. He argues that “the use of a wide range of modes of writing usually associated with fiction are not the sole province of fiction” and that narrative theorists have concentrated their attention on fictional narrative, thereby excluding factual forms of writing (ibid). One of the defining elements of creative non-fiction is its use of literary techniques in writing about factual events and people. At the same time, this does not make it fiction, which by definition, relies on invention (ibid). However, those historians who do write outside the limits of traditional history can attract criticism. Historian Richard Current argues that if writers of history and biography try to be more effective through literary considerations, they sometimes lose their objectivity and authenticity. While it is acceptable to seek to write with clarity and force, it is out of the question to present “occasional scenes in lifelike detail” in the manner of a novelist. Current contends that if only one source is used, this violates “the historiographical requirement of two or more independent and competent witnesses.” This requirement is important because it explains why much of the writing by academic historians is perceived as “dry-as-dust” (Current 87). Modern-day historians are contesting this viewpoint as they analyse the nature and role of their writings, with some turning to historical fiction as an alternative mode of expression. Perhaps one of the more well-known cases in recent times was that of historian Simon Schama, who, in writing Dead Certainties (Unwarranted Speculations), was criticised for creating dramatic scenes based on dubious historical sources without informing the reader of his fabrications (Nelson). In this work, Schama questions notions of factual history and the limitations of historians. The title is suggestive in itself, while the afterword to the book is explicit, as “historians are left forever chasing shadows, painfully aware of their inability ever to reconstruct a dead world in its completeness however thorough or revealing their documentation . . . We are doomed to be forever hailing someone who has just gone around the corner and out of earshot” (320). Another example is Rosenstone’s Mirror in the Shrine, which was considered to be “postmodern” and not acceptable to publishers and agents as the correct way to present history, despite the author’s reassurance that nothing was invented, “it just tells the story a different way” ("Space for the Birds to Fly" 16). Schama is not the only author to draw fire from critics for neglecting to inform the reader of the veracity or not of their writing. Richard Current accused Gore Vidal of getting his facts wrong and of inaccurately portraying Lincoln in his work, Lincoln: A Novel (81). Despite the title, which is a form of disclaimer itself, Current argued that Vidal could have avoided criticism if he had not asserted that his work was authentic history, or had used a disclaimer in a preface to deny any connection between the novel’s characters and known persons (82). Current is concerned about this form of writing, known as “fictional history," which, unlike historical fiction, “pretends to deal with real persons and events but actually reshapes them—and thus rewrites the past” (77). This concern is shared by historians in Australia. Fictive History Historian Mark McKenna, in his essay, Writing the Past, argues that “fictive history” has become a new trend in Australia; he is unhappy with the historical authority bestowed on this form of writing and would like to see history restored to its rightful place. He argues that with the decline of academic history, novelists have taken over the historian’s role and fiction has become history (3). In sympathy with McKenna, author, historian and anthropologist Inga Clendinnen claims that “novelists have been doing their best to bump historians off the track” (16). McKenna accuses writers W.G. Sebald and David Malouf of supporting “the core myth of historical fiction: the belief that being there is what makes historical understanding possible.” Malouf argues, in a conversation with Helen Daniel in 1996, that: Our only way of grasping our history—and by history I really mean what has happened to us, and what determines what we are now and where we are now—the only way of really coming to terms with that is by people's entering into it in their imagination, not by the world of facts, but by being there. And the only thing really which puts you there in that kind of way is fiction. Poetry may do so, drama may do so, but it's mostly going to be fiction. It's when you have actually been there and become a character again in that world. (3) From this point of view, the historical novel plays an important role in our culture because it allows people to interact with the past in a meaningful way, something factual writing struggles to do. McKenna recognises that history is present in fiction and that history can contain fiction, but they should not be confused. Writers and critics have a responsibility towards their readers and must be clear that fiction is not history and should not be presented as such (10). He takes writer Kate Grenville to task for not respecting this difference. McKenna argues that Grenville has asserted in public that her historical novel The Secret River is history: “If ever there was a case of a novelist wanting her work to be taken seriously as history, it is Grenville” (5). The Secret River tells the story of early settlement along the Hawkesbury River in New South Wales. Grenville’s inspiration for the story emanated from her ancestor Solomon Wiseman’s life. The main protagonist, William Thornhill (loosely based on Wiseman), is convicted of theft in 1806 and transported to Australia. The novel depicts the poverty and despair in England at the time, and describes life in the new colony where Grenville explores the collision between the colonists and the Aborigines. McKenna knows that Grenville insists elsewhere that her book is not history, but he argues that this conflicts with what she said in interviews and he worries that “with such comments, it is little wonder that many people might begin to read fiction as history” (5). In an article on her website, Grenville refutes McKenna’s arguments, and those of Clendinnen: “Here it is in plain words: I don’t think The Secret River is history…Nor did I ever say that I thought my novel was history.” Furthermore, the acknowledgements in the back of the book state clearly that it is a work of fiction. She accuses the two above-mentioned historians of using quotes that “have been narrowly selected, taken out of context, and truncated” ("History and Fiction"). McKenna then goes on to say how shocked he was on hearing Grenville, in an interview with Ramona Koval on Radio National, make her now infamous comments about standing on a stepladder looking down at the history wars, and that he “felt like ringing the ABC and leaping to the defence of historians.” He accuses Grenville of elevating fiction above history as an “interpretive power” (6). Koval asked Grenville where her book stood in regard to the history wars; she answered: Mine would be up on a ladder, looking down at the history wars. . . I think the historians, and rightly so, have battled away about the details of exactly when and where and how many and how much, and they’ve got themselves into these polarised positions, and that’s fine, I think that’s what historians ought to be doing; constantly questioning the evidence and perhaps even each other. But a novelist can stand up on a stepladder and look down at this, outside the fray, [emphasis in original audio] and say there is another way to understand it. ("Interview") Grenville claims that she did not use the stepladder image to imply that her work was superior to history, but rather to convey a sense of being outside the battle raging between historians as an uninvolved observer, “an interested onlooker who made the mistake of climbing a stepladder rather than a couple of fruit-boxes to get a good view.” She goes on to argue that McKenna’s only sources in his essay, Writing the Past, are interviews and newspaper articles, which in themselves are fine, but she disagrees with how they have been used “uncritically, at face value, as authoritative evidence” ("History and Fiction"), much in contrast to the historian’s desire for authenticity in all sources. It appears that the troubles between history and fiction will continue for some time yet as traditional historians are bent on keeping faith with the tenets of their nineteenth century predecessors by defending history from the insurgence of fiction at all costs. While history and historical fiction share a common purpose in presenting the past, the novel deals with what is “real” and can tell the past as accurately or even in a more plausible way than history, which deals with what is “true”. However, the “dry-as-dust” historical approach to writing, and postmodernism’s questioning of historiography’s role in presenting the past, has contributed to a reassessment of the nature of history. Many historians recognise the need for change in the way they present their work, but as they have often doubted the worth of historical fiction, they are wary of the genre and the narrative techniques it employs. Those historians who do make an attempt to write differently have often been criticised by traditionalists. In Australia, historians such as McKenna and Clendinnen are worried by the incursion of historical fiction into their territory and are highly critical of novelists who claim their works are history. The overall picture that emerges is of two fields that are still struggling to clarify a number of core issues concerning the nature of both the historical novel and historiographical writing, and the role they play in portraying the past. References Brown, Joanne. "Historical Fiction or Fictionalized History? Problems for Writers of Historical Novels for Young Adults." ALAN Review 26.1 (1998). 1 March 2010 ‹http://scholar.lib.vt.edu/ejournals/ALAN/fall98/brown.html›. Carey, Peter. True History of the Kelly Gang. St Lucia, Qld: U of Queensland P, 2000. Clendinnen, Inga. "The History Question: Who Owns the Past?" Quarterly Essay 23 (2006): 1-72. Current, Richard. "Fiction as History: A Review Essay." Journal of Southern History 52.1 (1986): 77-90. De Piérola, José. "At the Edge of History: Notes for a Theory for the Historical Novel in Latin America." Romance Studies 26.2 (2008): 151-62. Demos, John. "Afterword: Notes from, and About, the History/Fiction Borderland." Rethinking History 9.2/3 (2005): 329-35. Den Heyer, Kent, and Alexandra Fidyk. "Configuring Historical Facts through Historical Fiction: Agency, Art-in-Fact, and Imagination as Stepping Stones between Then and Now." Educational Theory 57.2 (2007): 141-57. Flanagan, Richard. Gould’s Book of Fish: A Novel in Twelve Fish. Sydney: Picador, 2002. Grenville, Kate. “History and Fiction.” 2007. 19 July 2010 ‹http://kategrenville.com/The_Secret_River_History%20and%20Fiction›. ———. “Interview with Ramona Koval.” 17 July 2005. 26 July 2010 ‹http://www.abc.net.au/rn/arts/bwriting/stories/s1414510.htm›. ———. The Secret River. Melbourne: Text Publishing, 2006. Harlan, David. “Historical Fiction and the Future of Academic History.” Manifestos for History. Ed. Keith Jenkins, Sue Morgan and Alun Munslow. Abingdon, Oxon; N.Y.: Routledge, 2007. Hutcheon, Linda. A Poetics of Postmodernism: History, Theory Fiction. New York: Routledge, 1988. Jenkins, Keith, Sue Morgan, and Alun Munslow. Manifestos for History. Abingdon, Oxon; N.Y.: Routledge, 2007. Lukács, György. The Historical Novel. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1983. Malouf, David. "Interview with Helen Daniel." Australian Humanities Review (Sep. 1996). McKenna, Mark. “Writing the Past: History, Literature & the Public Sphere in Australia.” Australian Financial Review (2005). 13 May 2010 ‹http://www.afraccess.com.ezp01.library.qut.edu.au/search›. Nelson, Camilla. “Faking It: History and Creative Writing.” TEXT: Journal of Writing and Writing Courses 11.2 (2007). 5 June 2010 ‹http://www.textjournal.com.au›. Ricketson, Matthew. “Not Muddying, Clarifying: Towards Understanding the Boundaries between Fiction and Nonfiction.” TEXT: Journal of Writing and Writing Courses 14.2 (2010). 6 June 2011 ‹http://www.textjournal.com.au/oct10/ricketson.htm›. Rosenstone, Robert A. “Space for the Bird to Fly.” Manifestos for History. Eds. Keith Jenkins, Sue Morgan and Alun Munslow. Abingdon, Oxon; N.Y.: Routledge, 2007. 11-18. ———. Mirror in the Shrine: American Encounters with Meiji Japan. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1988. Schama, Simon. Dead Certainties: (Unwarranted Speculations). 1st Vintage Books ed. New York: Vintage Books, 1992. Slotkin, Richard. “Fiction for the Purposes of History.” Rethinking History 9.2/3 (2005): 221-36. Southgate, Beverley C. History Meets Fiction. New York: Longman, Harlow, England, 2009. White, Hayden. “Introduction: Historical Fiction, Fictional History, and Historical Reality.” Rethinking History 9.2/3 (2005): 147-57.

IntroductionFew life experiences have a greater impact upon the sense of self than the diagnosis of a life-challenging illness. Breast cancer is such an illness, and the sudden transition from 'well' to 'ill' is unsettling for a person's sense of knowing who they are in 'their' own body. What you know about your body, what others know about your body and what your biology knows about your body become suddenly problematic. This paper addresses what people know about their bodies before and after experiencing a breast cancer diagnosis by examining relevant theory and empirical data drawn from an online community for people with breast cancer, their families and supporters. In the Breast Cancer Click (BCC) online community members are encouraged to blog their breast cancer journey, engage in discussion forums, use a private messaging function to talk in real-time with each other and a breast care nurse, and to participate in live group chat. The records of all these activities have been used in a netnographic study which aims to examine the efficacy of this mutual support community. In this paper we present some of the material which has been created in the community’s activities to consider the embodied experience of breast cancer. Evidence from online community members is addressed to consider what a western cultural experience of breast cancer as captured by a disembodied online community can tell us about embodiment and embodied knowledge. How Do We Know?In ‘Knowing and Being’, Polanyi argues that knowing is related to two separate methods of investigation which nonetheless need to be integrated. On the one hand is the detailed knowledge of the particulars, and on the other the grasping of the big-picture conceptualization of the whole. “A medical student,” he writes, “deepens his knowledge of a disease by learning a list of its symptoms with all their variations, but only clinical practice can teach him to integrate the clues observed on an individual patient to form a correct diagnosis of his illness, rather than an erroneous diagnosis which is often more plausible” (460). The implication here is that there is more at stake than a formulaic listing of symptoms. The ‘knowing’ relates to knowledge around the disease of breast cancer; the ‘being’ relates to the experience of being a breast cancer patient. The necessary theory underpinning the identification of disease, the progress of symptoms and the side effects of treatment fails to capture the experience of the breast cancer patient, which is mutually recognisable among other patients even where superficial aspects of the disease manifestation diagnosis and progress may differ. Lekkie Hopkins writes of her immediate and bodily experience of hearing the diagnosis of her breast cancer:Thwack! ‘The good news is that you won’t die of this. The bad news is that you will have to lose a breast’. Whoosh earthwards. Floor opens to swallow my life force. Body a shell. Head empty, uncomprehending. Within seconds, whoosh again, upwards this time. Blood rushes to head, face blooms red, eyes zoom onto the tiny points of calcification on the x-ray image, ears boom. Lose a breast, lose a breast, lose a breast ricochets off the walls. Kind eyes, gentle hands, steady voice: ‘Can I call someone? Your partner?’ Kind eyes, gentle hands, steady voice. Lose a breast, Lose a breast, Lose a breast (132).Such embodied knowledge may not be recognisable within a medical/scientific context. Conflict can arise between a woman’s embodied knowledge of her breast cancer and the medical/scientific understanding involved in her treatment (Thomas-McLean, Memories of Treatment). Perhaps surprisingly, the body can appear absent in medical discourse and alternative approaches are needed to provide an embodied perspective. Considering poet and feminist scholar Adrienne Rich’s invitation to women to learn to think through the body, Lekkie Hopkins wondered “what it must mean to lose part of that body” (134). Thomas-McLean has noted that frameworks of health and illness can fail to capture the “complexities associated with living with an altered body” (Beyond Dichotomies 202). She promotes the idea that “women speaking for themselves, about their own experiences” is an important part of the repository of knowledge and understanding about breast cancer (Memories of Treatment 629). Our knowledge comes from our physical nature, our embodiment within our world and the meanings attached to the body within our social context.An online community constructed using community networking technologies may seem an unlikely place for reclaiming the knowledge of the body. However, deep connection between members has been observed in online communities studied in detail (Bonniface et al.). The qualitative richness of complex experiences, missing from the medical discourse, can be found in such communities and constitute an alternative source of data to traditional interview methods. As mentioned, it is not an aim of this paper to address the efficacy of the Breast Cancer Click community, but to use some of the material which has been created in the community’s activities to consider the embodied experience of breast cancer. In speaking for themselves in the Breast Cancer Click community, women reveal both their knowing and being as breast cancer survivors.Online Support in a (Dis)embodied CommunityThe research question addressed in this paper is “What embodied knowledge about breast cancer can be shared in the disembodied realm of an online support community?” Women experiencing the betrayal of their bodies seek the authenticating experience of sharing their stories with others whose lives have embodied analogous experiences. Breast Cancer Click (BCC) was set up to provide a connection between breast cancer patients and their supporters with others who are currently undergoing treatment and those that have completed their treatments wishing to support others. This peer-to-peer support is expanded through interaction with an online Breast Care Nurse, providing education and information and unraveling the medical terminology and diagnosis with each specific patient, where requested. Through personal messages, forum threads and group online chats regular contact is maintained with newly diagnosed members, those currently involved with treatment, and those considering reconstruction and other post-surgical options. It is through these active members’ dialogue that we can appreciate the value provided by this disembodied communicative space. Using the principles of netnography (Kozinets), which applies ethnographic techniques to online communities and environments, the posts, chat, forum contributions and private messages (all de-identified) were archived to provide the raw data for this study. Transcripts were analysed to identify themes arising (Strauss & Corbin) and to select content which illustrates these themes and illuminates the experience of participants and the value or otherwise of the online community. Necessarily, with hundreds of thousands of words posted as part of the ongoing research project, only selected material is presented here. Three major areas of discussion are presented for this paper: development of a new normal, breast image and holistic health. We have not ‘personalised’ the contributions of Breast Cancer Click members, but have indicated verbatim quotes via the attribution to (BCC).The ‘New Normal’I have silicone implants and swimming now feels VERY wierd. (BCC) This statement is indicative of a range of language comparing the pre-diagnosis, or pre-cancer, body with the changed circumstances which embody the results of the cancer even while the medical model excises it. Insights and comments on the bodily experience arise in a range of circumstances such as: through the experience of hair loss following on from chemotherapy; questions about authenticity and reconstruction following surgery. im expecting to shave my head as soon as i see hairloss. i have already had my hair cut shorter to help my kids adjust etc.i cut my hair short too before chemo so i get used to the idea havent shaved it yet though. (all BCC) These comments indicate the intuitive use of simulation strategies as a means of adjusting to the anticipated response of the body to the experience of chemotherapy. This simulation strategy reintroduces a sense of agency for the BCC member, allowing them to feel as though they have chosen to change their appearance.Sometimes the edge of the new normal can be softened by the experience of social and emotional solidarity conveyed through others embodying their support for the person with a breast cancer diagnosis: oh when i lost my hair, my boss (at the time) was so lovely, and he shaved his head, and we had our pics taken together : ). Mine too- the school did greatest shave just as I lost my hair. Raised $900. (Both BCC) Although the experience of losing hair through chemotherapy is very different from that of being shaved, the embodiment of ‘different’ can serve to offer consolation and companionship for those who are embarking on a breast cancer journey. A return to the ‘old normal’ can be a cause for celebration, along with a recognition that the body continues to function as it had pre-cancer:i remember the feeling when my hair was long enuf to dye back to blonde : ) was fabulous when it got long enuf for a bit of a style instead of just fluff! (BCC) Breast Image, Mastectomy and ReconstructionWithin the breast cancer community, the issue of reconstruction following mastectomy becomes a very personal one, whilst also, for some people, involving wider gender politics. Although it might seem this is an elaboration of the discussion around challenges to the concept of the ‘pre-cancer self’ and the new normal, women’s breasts have such a range of associations in Western culture that it is hard to be objective about the new embodiment of the post-cancer self. I had a lumpectomy but it's obvious size wise and I lost my nipple completely ... but I won't reconstruct or wear padding.We all look great (scars are not so lovely) but with swimwear or a bra on we are all OK. I went from a small a cup to a c cup as the plastic surgeon suggested we ‘may as well kick a goal as a point’. (Both BCC)Sometimes the experience of the disease is such that the ‘new normal’ places the body into an anomalous category. There is an embodiment of strangeness which over-rides the conscious understanding about biology and function. The rational, knowledgeable, self can sometimes be seen to be in conflict with the experiential being of the post-treatment breast cancer patient. This was the case with a 29 year-old BCC member who successfully fell pregnant after her diagnosis. This exchange was via live chat between the breast care nurse (BCN) and the BCC member, so it sometimes reads in a disjointed way as the messagers respond to each other’s posts in a semi-synchronous way. Do you think you will breast-feed? (BCC Breast Care Nurse) probably not. (BCC)i feel weird about my boobs now. (BCC) How do you mean? (BCC Breast Care Nurse) like i'd make sure baby got first milk etc, and then bottle feed. (BCC)oh umm its hard to describe, they don't feel like they are for that purpose anymore. (BCC)i don't like the left one being touched much. (BCC)Good plan - good for baby to have some breast milk. (BCC Breast Care Nurse)No - I guess it feels odd - not normal? (BCC Breast Care Nurse)As in this exchange, the online community operates to validate the experiences of its members, to offer support and understanding. The politics around breast feeding, as with those around a woman’s physical appearance, mean that people with a diagnosis of breast cancer often perceive they are subject to a range of social ‘shoulds’ at a time when they are trying to re-learn (or to learn) an authentic sense of being in communication with, and being in communion with, their body. Holistic HealthWe went for a brisk walk around west-end with heart rate monitors on to check our pulse rates. It was great to do the exercise in a group situation. I am looking forward to getting in touch with my pre-diagnosis body again. I gently stretched my 'bad' arm which was OK.I am very happy to say that my energy levels have already improved and have just been for a walk. My unused muscles are waking up and I feel excited now I realize it is possible for me to return to my pre-diagnosis fitness levels and activities. (Both BCC) The physicality of the experience of cancer and its treatment can act as a spur to people who wish to reassert control over their bodies and bring their body back into a positive relationship with health and fitness. Sometimes this impetus can provoke an almost super-human response on the part of the person with breast cancer:I had been attending Body Pump 2 or 3 times a week for 10 years prior to my diagnosis and made casual aquaintences with other regular attendees. […] I returned to the classes myself while still on chemo, I was having a weekly light dose for 3 months so felt OK. While my energy levels were a bit low I managed to do about 75% of the class with light weights and just stopped when I became tired. The instructor and other class members were so supportive. It helped me to feel like I was getting back to normal just being able to participate in the classes. (BCC)On occasions, BCC members will post in a way that invites support from those who have developed successful strategies or responses to similar challenges. Here the mind is sometimes seen as determining the response of the body: [I’m] finding it hard to get motivated enough to go out. This is made worse because I have put on lots of weight and am so unfit compared to my pre-cancer body. So doing exercise just isn't as much fun anymore. Hopefully it will get better. (BCC)When a person with a breast cancer diagnosis seeks strategies to move beyond a place in which they feel stuck, it is often through harnessing a sensory image. The means of moving through a challenge, or towards an acceptable new normal, might be via the use of senses, simulation and experiential movement: I feel like I'd like to have someone gently hold my hand and lead me to do all the cardio, exercises and stretching. Having been through so much I feel like being nurtured but instead I have to be strict and a bit tough to take steps to go forward. […] Often I pop outside and if the sky is clear and it's not too cold I walk around the block. (BCC)Communication and the BodyWhat is clear from these communications between members is that an experience of breast cancer can trigger particular responses associated with physical embodiment. Even as the person with a new diagnosis of breast cancer tries to rationalise the diagnosis, the treatment and the prognosis, so they are assaulted by a range of highly physical sensations, from feeling sick, to feeling crushed, to feeling as if even the certainties of gravity have been challenged by this embodiment of change (Walker, Plant, Hopkins). For those working through their response, initial analysis of the data from the disembodied BCC community indicates that accommodating the post-cancer self often takes a physical form, an acceptance of the revised self and its engagement in sensory and simulated ways with the wider world. For example it is often aspects of the post-surgery body that BCC members use to highlight the possibility of a lighter, more humorous, response to the challenges of their experience:haha XX [friend who has had a breast cancer diagnosis] and [I] still go to lift the boob when washing in the shower haha.a friend of mine had [a] double reconstruction a few years back and needed ‘replacement nipples’ that were imported from the US - we all laughed when she announced they have arrived in the post for her! (Both BCC)In terms of the research question, “What embodied knowledge about breast cancer can be shared in the disembodied realm of an online support community?”, the data presented indicates that experience of the life-changing disease of breast cancer can trigger a new appreciation of the physicality of the human condition. This can be shared with others in a similar situation, seeking confirmation of shared experience. The disembodied community allows the member-self to move from the cognitive realm into an experiential one. It foregrounds the strangeness of the revised body through temporary but highly visible indicators, such as the loss of hair following chemotherapy, and permanent but less visible changes, such as the removal of a breast. It allows these changes to be recontextuatlised as the new normal, and provides a safe space in which to explore and imagine further responses to these embodied challenges such as whether to use a prosthesis, or to embark upon a reconstruction. The physically disembodied community of the BCC may constitute a lived space where the daily experience of breast cancer is addressed; “simultaneously part of bodily forms and their social constructions” (Moss and Dyck 49).This initial analysis of BCC community posts indicates that one way through the maelstrom of diagnosis, treatment and living with an altered body is a renewed focus upon experiential data and the sensory life. Simulation is often used and described as a means of coming to terms with the new normal. 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