ABSTRACT
One day in July 2001, a revelation occurred in an office in Cambridge. It was not the kind of revelation one might expect. God was nowhere to be seen, and no divine messages were delivered. Light did not shine through the office windows, and excessive bliss, I am quite sure, was not experienced by either of the two anthropologists present. There was nothing extraordinary about the situation, nothing to indicate that something had happened. An almost unnoticed revelation. And, indeed, why would it be perceived thus when the only thing revealed was ‘an idea’ and possibly the beginnings of a new academic article? It was the kind of thing that happens every day, and maybe ‘revelation’ is taking things too far. But something new did happen, at least to me, the PhD student, who was seeking advice from a senior. I had or was given an idea, or at least the makings of an idea. And, honestly, when these things happen—or, to be more precise, when you imagine such things to have happened—you do feel if not bliss then at least the momentary and quiet satisfaction of having seen new analytical possibilities. A quiet revelation perhaps.
