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approaches to gaining informed consent necessitated by fluctuating states of mental capacity (Gysels et al., 2013). These are not always easy to negotiate in reality and within the constraints of a pre-approval ethics regulatory framework. Furthermore, lesser discussed Mortality Special Issue Vol 22 (2) May 2017 7 complexities can arise around issues to do with what are usually considered ‘best practice’; for example, asking participants to verify interview transcripts or sending details of study findings once the research has ended. These tasks might not be possible, or even deemed ‘appropriate’ to ask about in the context of interviewing a person who may die very soon (Kendall et al., 2007). Similarly lengthy ‘standard’ participant information sheets can be exhausting for someone with serious health complications (Gysels et al., 2013) and researchers cannot assume that participants understand or accept their prognosis or if words like ‘dying’ or ‘end of life’ are suitable and ethical to use (Kendall et al., 2007). Referring to less apparent complexities in death-related research, Valentine (2007) identified ‘protectiveness towards the dead’ and ‘honouring the deceased’ as key mediating aspects in her relationship with the bereaved individuals she interviewed. She reminds us that small tasks involved in the process of doing research can be important for the integrity of a deceased person’s memory, such as participants correcting misspelt names in interview transcripts. Similarly, Hockey (2007) suggests that the use of real names rather than pseudonyms when reporting data can serve as a memorial for the deceased and can be something actively desired by participants involved in death-related research. Thus in this field, researchers are challenged to avoid making presumptions about the ‘ethics’ of standard research practices such as anonymisation (see also Grinyer, 2002). Finally, often accounts about doing sensitive research focus on the potential for harm to participants and researchers whilst generating data in the field. However, as indicated by the previous example of assigning pseudonyms, the emotional repercussions of doing deathrelated research can linger into the post-fieldwork stages of our work (see Burles in the special issue for a more in-depth discussion of these issues). Thus Hockey (2014), as an experienced death researcher, writes evocatively about how she now considers the practices of her bereaved participants as not so different from those of a researcher interpreting Mortality Special Issue Vol 22 (2) May 2017 8 interview data. About working with data she writes: ‘Like the survivor of someone else’s death, I am left with traces of times, places and people no longer present’ (p.105). These ‘traces’ are the ‘material outcomes of interviews’ – digital recordings and transcriptions that on one hand ‘constitute a kind of commodity’ (p.95). Indeed, we use these to write publications which become aggregated as metrics and then contribute (or not) to promotions and the generation of personal and institutional income. Hockey suggests this can create a generalised sense of uneasiness about the status of data, and can be seen, for instance, in the difficultly researchers might have fragmenting narratives when coding and selecting data extracts for publications (e.g. Valentine 2007). Based on our own research experiences, we know that these issues can feel all the more unsettling when working with emotive deathrelated data. Thus feelings akin to guilt experienced by some death researchers when approaching participants in the field (as discussed by Woodthorpe, 2009) can also manifest in perhaps less apparent ways throughout the research process. Indeed, a sense of ambivalence about being awarded a PhD based on observations of many individuals who have now died, is a complicated feeling which we have both struggled to make sense of and articulate publicly. As we now turn our attention to describe how the current special issue came about, it should be noted that our own desire to exchange stories and explore complicated feelings around doing research about the end of life has been a key motivator in developing this reflexive space to discuss methodological issues. Background to the special issue For the last three years, we have worked together as co-convenors of the British Sociological Association’s (BSA) Social Aspects of Death, Dying and Bereavement Study Group (DDB)ii . Although sponsored by the BSA, the group is distinctly multi-disciplinary, and it is not uncommon for artists, healthcare practitioners, or representatives from charitable Mortality Special Issue Vol 22 (2) May 2017 9 organisations to attend and present at the annual symposium. Along with Kate Woodthorpe (University of Bath), a past co-convenor of the group, we have noticed that reflections about methods and methodology (as topics in their own right), reoccur every year in presentations at the symposium, regardless of the substantive theme stipulated as the focus for the day (e.g. death and family, death and social difference etc.). In particular, we have observed participants sharing their experiences of doing research and exploring the implications – both personal and professional – of being a ‘death researcher’. Attendees regularly share experiential and personal insights on a range of issues, including: the procedural
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