For me, its expanding the traditional timeline and perspective of World War One. One of the notable books that show this the best is Empires at War, 1911 - 1923 by Robert Gerwarth and Erez Manela. They mention in their introduction about the two "classic assumptions" that the war began with the "guns of August" in 1914 and ended with the Armistice in 1918 and that the conflict was primarily one between nation states and contained in Europe. Both Gerwarth and Manela, as well as the other contributing authors argue that the time period of the war extends further due to the conflicts between empires and is inherently a global war because of the role that colonies and the mobilization of colonial troops played. I agree with their premise, although framing the war as a global one isn't entirely new (see: pretty much any work on WWI in Africa or the Middle East).

For the last few years, the history of the Second World War and liberation in Europe has undergone what some may refer to as revisionism. This is particularly true in the Netherlands and Belgium, where alternative narratives to liberation are now becoming more prominent. In English-language historiography, for example, Peter Schrijvers has questioned commonly-held certainties about the Anglo-American liberation of Belgium in his 2009 book, Liberators: The Allies and Belgian Society (Cambridge, 2009). In general, I would argue that these alternative narratives to how we understand Allied liberation are less prominent among English-language readers in part due to language barriers and the construction of memory.

In Canada, the "Sweetest Spring" narrative of liberation in the Netherlands, which is celebrated in official histories of both countries, plays a crucial part in how Canadians remember their role in the Second World War. Yet, as my research has shown, Canadians took part in some of the most devastating operations in the southern Netherlands in autumn 1944, which had profound consequences on regional history and how certain parts of the country would remember their wartime experiences. In the Dutch province of Zeeland, the ways in which the war has been remembered is far from the flag-waving, bouquet throwing wave of jubilation that took place elsewhere in the country in 1945. The contrast between English and Dutch historiographies is also a fascinating topic.

With the publication of the first of Capwell's planned 3 volumes on 15th century English armour, I hope we are seeing a renewed focus on the regional particularities of armour, particularly for regions where little late medieval armour survives (everywhere other than Northern Italy and Southern Germany, basically). One effect that The Knight and the Blast Furnace perhaps inadvertently had is to focus on German and Italian armour (again) because that is what survives and thus what Williams could analyze. This meant that despite being a revolutionary book in many ways in some way The Knight and the Blast Furnace simply reinforced old narratives that were created in part by survival bias to begin with. Yes, Italy was a major source of armour exports, no it wasn't the only one. And I have seen little evidence for use of Southern German armour outside of German lands and German-influenced slavic countries (Poland, Czech lands). Capwell's first volume did a lot to paint a more nuanced picture of the English armour market, clarifying the role of Italian exports and the niche filled by local armourers. I hope that other armour historians in other countries follow up and illuminate Flemish armour, French armour and Spanish armour.

Its been about 15 years now, but the field of Soviet nationality policy has undergone a drastic shift. For most of the era of the USSR the idea amongst Western scholars believed it was a top-down, neo-imperialist state that didn't really care much about the non-Russian peoples. The key book on this subject would be Richard Pipes' The Formation of the Soviet Union, Communism and Nationalism, 1917–1923 (1954).

Well this all changed roughly once the Soviet Union ended. Starting around 1990 a few articles and books came out that suggested the USSR was a lot more tolerant and welcoming towards its nationalities. One of the first to espouse this view would have been Yuri Slezkine in his 1994 article "The USSR as a Communal Apartment, or How a Socialist State Promoted Ethnic Particularism," and Ronald Suny's book The Revenge of the Past: Nationalism, Revolution, and the Collapse of the Soviet Union (1993). These were effectively the first to challenge the narrative Pipes had established, and suggested the USSR was more an "ethnophile" than previously thought.

But I'd argue it was not until 2003 and the publication of Terry Martin's The Affirmative Action Empire: Nations and Nationalism in the Soviet Union, 1923-1939* that the field was really challenged. Martin suggested that the USSR actively sought out minorities and promoted them, or as his title suggested, affirmative action, Soviet-style. He further goes on to say that because this system didn't work as hoped, there was the backlash of the Stalinist era when nationalities were repressed and what led to the consolidation of a single Soviet identity, which ties into the ideas put forth by Pipes. The impact this book has had is immense; you can't read anything on the subject now without seeing it cited, and it has led to the development of the topic even further (including my own). Of course this was largely due to the opening of the Russian archives in the 1990s (and Martin, researching in the mid-90s, was one of the first to be able to look at the relevant documents), which was obviously something previous scholars were unable to do.

The field of the history of American art is nearing the relative tail end of a course correction toward, or efflorescence of interest in, transnationalism. When American art first emerged as a separate discipline within the art historical academy after World War II, scholars tended for a variety of reasons to see it through a strongly nationalistic lens, arguing for the uniquely American characteristics of great works of American art. A big reason for this was the Cold War and the lingering cultural aftershock of the great totalitarian movements of the 1930s and 1940s. American art was proffered as an antidote to the decadent European culture that led to fascism and Communism, and as a beacon of freedom for countries under the sway of the USSR.

After the Cold War and increasingly in the twenty-first century we have been rethinking this in a number of ways. Transatlanticism is one - scholars of American art now explore the many ways in which Americans engaged with their colleagues in Europe in ways that involve not just the transmission of styles and ideas from the enlightened European metropole to the barbaric American periphery, but rather a more nuanced view that sees back-and-forth and collaboration as key components of the relationship. Even more exciting (or at least more emergent) is the increasing move towards transpacific studies, seeing the ways in which American artists have been engaged with the artistic cultures of the Pacific Rim. Finally, many Americanists have become invested in the idea of "hemispheric Americanism," where we see the art of the United States as part of the cultural history of the Americas more broadly. American art, in this view, must be seen in closer relationship to the Latino, Black, and indigenous cultures with which we share these landmasses.

As I said, this is a wave that has crested. Moving forward it will be a standard part of the way scholars study the art of the United States. In the future we might even see a return to localism in scholarship, as scholars seek to tease out the ways in which an artist who lived in Gloucester MA or Santa Fe NM was specifically influenced by his or her time in those places.

Another big trend right now in art history more broadly is towards ecocriticism. I'm less familiar with these discourses (I'm a transnationalism guy), but in essence they seek to understand the ways in which art was influenced by man's relationship with the natural world, including animals, plants, and climatological forces.

For much of the twentieth century (and continuing to the present day), the history of women's fashion has been looked at with a critical eye - while there's generally a certain neutrality in describing the sequence of changes that the shapes of sleeves, skirts, collars, etc. went through, there was also a strong narrative relating women's dress to women's status in society. The corset was imposed on women by men, it left them debilitated and helpless (as did long skirts, layers of fabric, etc.), its shape became more and more painful through the 19th century until it was extinguished with the advent of WWI.

As noted above, this still goes on, but there's started to be a persistent narrative in the other direction. Rather than portraying women as having passive acceptance of their status as decorated arm candy showing off their husbands' conspicuous consumption or internalized misogyny that drove them to frivolous time-wasting, many historians are noting women's agency in shaping their images through their dress, and often questioning the amount which their clothing actually restricted them physically.

Valerie Steele's The Corset: A Cultural History and Caroline Weber's Queen of Fashion are probably the most accessible resources for non-academics that take this newer view.

I come from Taiwan, and the history I studied in school is very different from the history I later learned in adulthood as a hobbyist.

For instance, a lot of views of women rulers in China have been revised. The history of the island itself and the way it's presented to the public is constantly in flux due to the instability of strait relations.

Furthermore in my dad's days as an undergrad history student in Taiwan, historicity was not really a thing. Sources were scarce and the libraries were poor. I think the public may be educated in a very different way now than what I was used to and the local ideas of academia and historical studies itself is changing quickly.

Finally, in my degree studies as a linguistics student in the US, I found that a lot of aboriginal cultures and histories are being revived now in my home country and Taiwan has one of the most vibrant linguistics communities I know of to try to preserve these cultures before they're gone. There are a huge number of "last speakers" and the public view of the cultures has definitely shifted.