Emily Miller

We agree with McCullough, Coverdale and Chervenak1 that ‘medical educators and academic leaders are in a pivotal and powerful position to role model’ to counter ‘incivility’ in medicine, which can include ‘dismissing’ or ‘demeaning others’. They note that ‘women may be at greater risk for experiencing incivility compared with men’, as may other individuals who experience ‘patterns of disrespect based on minority status’. The authors promote ‘professionalism’ and ‘etiquette’ to foster civility within medicine. Yet theory and experience suggest that medical educators and academic leaders are also in powerful positions to mobilise these concepts to perpetuate exclusions from, and biases within, medicine, upholding racist, sexist and ableist norms. Feminist methodology reveals how ethical theorising historically excluded views and experiences of marginalised individuals and groups and provides frameworks for interrogating supposedly universal norms. Presuming dominant values and experiences reflect universal ones can further marginalise already oppressed groups and individuals. A feminist analysis reveals how ‘professionalism’ or ‘etiquette’ are historically shaped by white or male identity and experience, including norms of attire, hair, accessories, speech or behaviour. Part of the hidden curriculum of medicine becomes intuiting how leaders implicitly or explicitly define ‘professionalism’. McCullough et al define ‘professionalism’ in medicine as ‘sustained commitments to scientific and clinical excellence… making the protection and promotion of health-related interest the physician’s primary concern …

George Du Maurier’s best-selling novel, Trilby (1894), is as important because of its defiance of social and cultural norms as it is for its apparent compliance with them. Trilby is a fiction that, like its eponymous heroine, attempts to negotiate the perilously fine line between the highbrow and the lowbrow, or to put it another way, between fine art and political commentary on one side, and pornography and sensationalism on the other. This article examines the way that Du Maurier engages his readership in this textual tease – his seduction of the reader – by suggesting the possibility of a peep show where everything that Victorian respectability abhors may be on display, and then his narratological dressing of the text, to ensure that where there is sexual non-conformity there is also moralism, and where there is social confrontation there is also historical distance. Understanding the textual appeal of Trilby as a character, the artist’s model who enchanted the fin-de-siècle reading public, is essential to appreciating how the discourses of pornography and fine art interact and have consequently evolved. This article therefore examines why Trilby succeeded with the Victorians where other, similarly sexually active heroines – such as Thomas Hardy’s Sue Bridehead – failed. Trilby the novel and Trilby the woman are both broken down by their author into manageable parts, a pornographic fetishistic technique that simultaneously eroticises, and makes more palatable, the textual and the physical bodies.