An Undeniably Interesting Reverie

Another review came in for A Ph.D's Reverie: The Letters, A Whirlwind Courtship, A Ph.D.Student's Ordeal.

Thank you to the reader for your honest review of my “undeniably interesting” story. The reviewer posed an interesting question about a world without extensive correspondence. Long, handwritten letters have been replaced by texts and Zoom. How will our personal histories be remembered? How will future archivists capture the intimacy of communication? Published group chats? Maybe.

This is exactly the reason why I am encouraging the next generation to write memoirs. To record their own truth so that someday, their great-great-grandchild can see the world as it was. Maybe the answers lie in Facebook posts or tweets found deep in the digital archives in the 23rd century.

A Ph.D’s Reverie: The Letters, A Whirlwind Courtship, A Ph.D. Student's Ordeal (Reviewed: May 2026)

A Ph.D’s Reverie is a book about Frank Guittard, founder of Baylor University’s history department, written and assembled by his grandson, Charles Francis Guittard. Most of the book is a collection of correspondences between Frank, his wife Josie, and his two sons, Francis and Clarence, although the author does offer plenty of context to set the stage (as well as a poem).

The context is undeniably interesting. Although he was a man in his 50s who had been a distinguished member of Baylor’s faculty for over 20 years, Guittard decided to pursue a doctorate at Stanford, with the encouragement of Baylor president Samuel P. Brooks. Brooks himself was dealing with poor health at the time, while also fending off attacks from religious fundamentalists who sought to compromise Baylor’s academic freedom. That’s terrifically fertile ground for a narrative, especially in these troubled times.

Unfortunately, we only get peripheral glimpses of it through the letters of the Guittard family, the contents of which are of little interest to those who aren’t intimately familiar with Frank Guittard. By way of illustration: after the letters, a discussion guide poses such questions as “who gave Josie driving lessons?” and “what color was Clarence’s kitty?”

There’s something compelling about these letters from a historical point of view: Frank and Josie occasionally comment on contemporary events, such as the 1928 presidential election or the alleged kidnapping of famed evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson. And if nothing else, it’s interesting to read letters back from when people actually wrote extensive correspondence. (Future archivists will have their work cut out for them: published group chats, anyone?) Still, that can only take the unfamiliar reader so far.

With no disrespect meant to a great academic and his loving family, it’s hard not to wonder what the reader is supposed to take away from this offering.