I was helping out Olivia, a fresh PhD graduate from mainland China, with her job applications. A friend of hers, also from mainland China, turned up at the end of our session to speak to her about something.
He turned out to be doing a PhD in syntax, a pet subject of mine, so I asked him some questions about his focus: what it is; how he goes about testing out the theories he’s putting forth; how he picks his informants; how he can be sure that what they say is right; etc.
Olivia texted me later saying he told her, after I left them, that I’d asked him some questions that were very professional, hitting the nail on the head. My reply: “He should, therefore, be glad that I won’t be one of his examiners.”
This reminds me of what happened with Jurek, a chap one year below me at SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London) who had then gone on to do his PhD in some classical Chinese grammar topic.
When it came to submitting, Jurek wasn’t sure if he should pick Professor Angus Graham as his external examiner, or to check his thesis.
A bit of background here: Prof. Graham had a fearsome reputation, to which I can testify, as I’d studied under him for three years. He was so erudite that he found everyone else not quite worth spending his time with.
We Chinese Section students used to go to the SOAS bar at opening time, as a default — no need to check if anyone else was going; just turn up and there’ll be at least one person there, or someone will come along in due course. The teachers would put in an appearance as well. The Japanese Section students used to complain that their peers were so boring, no one ever wanted to go for a drink, and asked if they could join us.
Prof. Graham loved a tipple or two, but not only for the alcohol. He’d like to have some kind of discussion about ancient Chinese poetry or philosophy, say, which we undergraduate students, even in our final year, were not quite up to in terms of providing enough cerebral challenge. This is a constant theme in ancient Chinese literature: poets and artists with a brush in one hand and a drink in the other.
Graham would sit there at the table with us, reading some book, waiting for the conversation to become interesting. After a couple of pints, he’d snap his book shut, get up and leave in silent disappointment.
Mr. T’ung (Ping-cheng / 佟秉正 Tóng Bǐngzhèng) was once present, and said, “Graham 失陪了.” 失陪了 shī péi le / “lose accompany” is an expression used by the person taking leave early, apologising for not keeping the others company any longer. So Mr. T’ung was saying, “Graham has just excused himself,” in his typical dry humour.
That was Graham’s reputation: he didn’t suffer fools gladly.
Back to Jurek. As Graham had by then retired, Jurek could have him as his external examiner, but then Graham couldn’t be invited to check his thesis.
Jurek approached Dr. Paul Thompson, his supervisor, about this. With his brilliant mind for analysing situations, Paul Thompson put it this way* to Jurek:
[*my words from memory but conveying the spirit of what Paul Thompson was saying to Jurek at the time]
“With Graham and his fearsome reputation, do you want him to be on your side, checking your thesis for flaws and warts, from which you can make improvements to your thesis, or do you want him to be on the other side, tearing your thesis apart, which will affect the final result?”
Put that way, it took Jurek half a second to decide.
(London, late 1980s)
* See also https://piccola-chinita.blogspot.com/2025/05/the-guardian-angels-in-ones-life-03-ex.html for how Paul Thompson also helped me decide whether to do an MA or not.
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