Although many of the texts referred to in this chapter would be categorised as biography, accounts of captivity deserve the term ‘genre’ to indicate a body of work in their own right. As is the way, I thought that I’d conceived this idea when I came across the following in an edition of prison writings:

Siobhan Dowd’s edition of prison writings is on my further reading list at the end of this book. This chapter draws on parts of her edited volume. The accounts of captivity given by former hostages and political prisoners seem to me to attest strikingly to how it is for a person to be minded. With the volume of sound from the general hubbub of life turned down, the commonality of our human condition is amplified. I believe that we hear about how it is to be a person most clearly through how it is to be captive.

We are not really alone in solitary confinement. Paradoxically, as mentioned earlier, we are probably less alone when we are alone. People still exist for us. Other people may not be present physically, but in captivity, we can think with them. We can continue to make acts of consciousness and conscience. Once peopled, we are never alone. We take our kind of consciousness into the cell with us, thank goodness, and others who have helped bring about us as persons, help us survive captivity. There is a kind of fellowship in solitary confinement and if so confined, we have virtual support.