The moment I arrived at Gladstone’s Library, I felt as though I’d stepped into the pages of a dark academia novel. Time seemed suspended between the past and present as I wandered through the Library – I had become some heroine at the beginning of a new and exciting journey. In the Reading Room, towering rows of books watched over me as I settled into a desk; these bookshelf-sentinels came to life, silently urging me forward on my quest.
My “quest,” of course is the very reason I was invited to spend a week here at Gladstone’s as the recipient of the 2025 General Scholarship: to immerse myself in research, reflect on the power of conversation in shaping communities of the diaspora, and prepare for an upcoming poetry workshop series engaging with history and transnational identity.
This past week (January 13th to 20th), I’ve had the immense privilege of being a resident at Gladstone’s Library, and today, as I sit at my usual desk that has been my mini office during my time here, I’m surprised at how quickly time has gone by and it’s already my last full day here.
As a final-year doctoral candidate at the University of Surrey, my research explores postcolonial, transnational poetry written by women, with a particular focus on the Korean diaspora. My work delves into themes of trauma, identity, and belonging, often framed through fragmented and multilingual poetry. My residency at Gladstone’s has provided the perfect environment (and I truly do mean PERFECT) for me to deepen my research and think about how conversations within communities shape our understanding of history.
There’s so much I could say about the working space here, with its neo-Victorian architecture and stunning Reading Rooms with high, high ceilings. There was one evening when I was the only person in the Reading Room, and I swear I could almost hear the books around me hum with the quiet intellect and wisdom of generations past.
Beyond its physical charm, though, it’s actually the warmth of the staff and fellow residents here that have made this place feel truly alive. Though I’m working alone for the majority of my days, I’m not lonely nor am I lacking in community. My days are punctuated by moments of conversation: from short exchanges at breakfast with fellow lovers of Studio Ghibli and quiet discussions in the hallways to (embarrassingly) asking another scholar if they could please “take a picture of me working.”
The interaction I’ve been having with people here has reinforced my belief that scholarship is a dialogue, not a monologue. Over tea with Dr. Andrea Russell, the warden, I was particularly inspired by our discussion on the importance of engaging with others in meaningful ways. I told her about my upbringing as a Korean having been raised in East Africa and then moving to the U.S. for university, followed by my marriage to my French-Canadian spouse and our move to the U.K several years ago. I talked about how I’d always been forced to adjust and fit in and how my recent poetry collections addressed some of these themes:
Mostly importantly, though, our conversation centered on the value of community and acceptance, which, of course, brings me back to the project / “quest” I’ve been working on over the past week:
My main “quest” during my Gladstone’s residency has been putting together a poetry workshop series titled “Fragmented Histories: Exploring Identity and Cultural Memory through Erasure Poetry.” I’m scheduled to lead this in a month or so, and I’ll be using erasure and blackout poetry to explore how these forms can reveal, transform, and reframe historical trauma.
There are several types of erasure techniques I will be introducing to the participants, and the plan is that they will engage with writing prompts and exercises where they create poems from written, archival texts to change silenced narratives into spaces where marginalized voices can resurface. Following these activities, I’ll be leading some reflections and conversations about how poetry can address heavy themes ranging from cultural dislocation and personal loss to strength and resilience – topics that lie at the heart of the transnational and diasporic experience.
During my week here, my own poetry has found new depth. The stillness of the Reading Rooms has sharpened my thoughts, and the communal energy of scholarly research all around me (as well as my towering bookshelf-sentinels cheering me on each day) has reinforced the sense of urgency of the stories I seek to tell. Here, I’ve been reminded that history is not something to simply study, but something to engage with in dialogue.
As I prepare to return home, I do so with a renewed sense of purpose. Gladstone’s Library has been a place of study, a place of becoming, and a place of rest. I’ll be leaving tomorrow, but I know with certainty that I will return one day. After all, I need to come back to have more tea and cake at Food for Thought!
In all seriousness, though, thank you, Gladstone’s Library, for awarding me the scholarship that has given me the time and resources to make this possible. I’m incredibly, incredibly grateful for it all. So for now, this heroine departs from the pages of the dark academia novel and will step back into the real world, having made good headway in her quest for conversation, which she will be able to complete in the coming months.
Until then,
Melanie
