I’ve never been privy to anybody else’s doctoral orals, but somehow I suspect mine was atypical. My four distinguished and very diverse faculty advisers were very clearly fascinated by each other, as well they might be. Jay was a stranger to the other three, but they shared some awareness of his brilliant and controversial history.
I arrived, all steeled for a rite de passage confected of difficult, profound, embarrassing questions, whose content could, I supposed, include almost anything. In the event, the members of the committee addressed more questions to each other than to me. They encouraged me to lean a bit more to the methodological side and to put less emphasis on the specific Irish application.1 I emerged without bruises, with their official approval to press forward, and with increased appreciation for my kindly mentors.
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