Early on in this book Tweed cites a bunch of mid-century scholars on early Chinese Buddhism, and compares his subject to theirs. This was a terrific analogy that stuck with me through the whole book. From the respective first-millennium Chinese and nineteenth-c. American textual records, Buddhism looks like this textual thing intellectuals toy with in order to resolve local cultural concerns that are truly their own.
It's important for me to "Always Be Historicizing" and remember that humans are products of their times, but I continued to experience shock at the level of disinterest early Victorian Americans had in building information by talking to live, actual Buddhists. I know it's better to chalk it up to ignorance ("they didn't know any better"), but it feels like willful incuriosity. Likewise, it was easier for me to imagine early American Buddhists (and Buddho-curious) as much driven by colonialist guilt as by their explicit aims that Tweed meticulously details: conscientious dissent, the search for truth, eccentricity cultivation.
Not my field of study, but I felt like I learned a lot about Victorian American culture. As a Buddhist Studies scholar it was also very cool to see the conversations our field had in the eighties (how do we deal with multiple Buddhisms? what kinds of thing can a Buddhism be? how do textual Buddhism(s) articulate with practice, belief, institution? what are Buddhism(s) as civilizational projects?) burble up into Tweed's work.