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Some of the most compelling and enduring creative work of the late Victorian and Edwardian Era came from committed imperialists and conservatives. This book explores the relationship of the artists with conservatism and imperialism, movements that defy easy generalisations in 1899. It does so by examining the work of writers Rudyard Kipling, Joseph Conrad, Rider Haggard and John Buchan along with the composer Edward Elgar and the architect Herbert Baker. The book presents an analysis of their mutual infatuation with T. E. Lawrence, or Lawrence of Arabia, who represented all their dreams for the future British Empire. It also explores the reasons why Lawrence did not, could not, perform the role in which his elder admirers cast him, as creative artist and master statesman of British Empire. Haggard's intrusion into Sigmund Freud's dream world at a critical point in the development of psychoanalytic theory suggests a divergent approach to the novels of imperial adventure. Writing imaginative literature about India as an imperialist enabled Kipling to explore a whole universe of perverse and forbidden pleasures without blowing the top off the volcano. Elgar occupies a higher position in the world of classical music than anyone imagined even at the zenith of his popularity in the Edwardian era. John Buchan mixed art and politics to a greater extent than any British writer, especially with his 'The Loathly Opposite'. The real-life political counterparts of the imperial romance were Britain's experiments with indirect rule from Fiji and Zululand to Nigeria and Tanganyika.
Environmental literary criticism, usually contracted to ecocriticism, has advanced considerably since the term was widely adopted in the 1980s and 1990s. This book considers examples of this advance across genres within literary studies and beyond into other creative forms. It explores the ecocritical implications of collaboration across genres in the humanities. The book also explores literary, artistic and performance production through direct collaboration between the creative disciplines and the sciences. It introduces the idea that the human denial of death has in part contributed to our approach to environmental crisis. The book argues that ecocriticism is a developing field, so attention must continue to be directed at reformulating thought in the (also) still unfolding aftermath of high theory. Examples of two poets' shared exploration show one's radical landscape poems side by side with the other's landscape drawings. Ecocritical ideas are integrated with the discussion of how this creative partnership has led to a body of work and the subsequent exhibitions and readings in which it has been taken to the public. One poet claims that to approach any art work ecocritically, it is necessary to bring to it some knowledge of current scientific thought regarding the biosphere. The book then explores poems about stones, on stones and stones which are the poem. The big environmental issues and Homo sapiens's problematic response to them evident in the mundane experience of day-to-day environments are discussed. Finally, the book talks about ecomusicology, past climate patterns, natural heritage interpretation, and photomontage in windfarm development.
This volume challenges a traditional period divide of 1660, exploring continuities with the decades of civil war, the Republic and Restoration and shedding new light on religious, political and cultural conditions before and after the restoration of church and monarchy. The volume marks a significant development in transdisciplinary studies, including, as it does, chapters on political theory, religion, poetry, pamphlets, theatre, opera, portraiture, scientific experiment and philosophy. Chapters show how unresolved issues at national and local level, residual republicanism and religious dissent, were evident in many areas of Restoration life, and recorded in plots against the regime, memoirs, diaries, historical writing, pamphlets and poems. An active promotion of forgetting, the erasing of memories of the Republic and the reconstruction of the old order did not mend the political, religious and cultural divisions that had opened up during the civil wars. In examining such diverse genres as women’s writing, the prayer book, prophetic writings, the publications of the Royal Society, histories of the civil wars by Clarendon and Hobbes, the poetry and prose of Milton and Marvell, plays and opera, court portraiture and political cartoons the volume substantiates its central claim that the Restoration was conditioned by continuity and adaptation of linguistic and artistic discourses.
John McGahern is one of those writers whose work continues to be appreciated across a range of readerships. As a writer who eschewed the notion of himself as 'artist' he addressed his task through a commitment to style, what he called the 'revelation of the personality through language'. McGahern's work began to receive critical attention only from when Denis Sampson's seminal study, Outstaring Nature's Eye: The Fiction of John McGahern was published in 1993. This book focuses on the physical landscape to show how the inadequacy of the State that emerged after 1922 is reflected in the characters' shifting relationship with the landscape, the connection has been made vulnerable through trauma and painful memory. It explores this sense of resentment and disillusionment in McGahern's novels, drawing parallels between the revolutionary memories and McGahern's own family experience. McGahern's All Over Ireland offers a number of fine stories, mostly set in Ireland, and dealing with distinctly Irish themes. He wrote a novel that is an example of openness, compassion and understanding for any form of strangeness. The vision of education and of the shaping of identity found in his writing is not an idiosyncratic one - it is consistent with much of the best thought within the tradition of liberal education. The book provides an intriguing comparison between McGahern and Flannery O'Connor, illustrating how diverse stories share an underlying current of brutality, demonstrating their respective authors' preoccupation with a human propensity towards evil.
John Buchan mixed art and politics to a greater extent than any British writer between Disraeli and Jeffrey Archer. Imperialism, with its clash of opposites (civilisation and barbarism, brain and brawn, East and West), is analogous to the human soul in the cloudy neo-Hegelian conception. In Buchan's version, it was men at the pinnacle of society who were stirring up crime and revolution. Buchan moved beyond metaphor to postulate a causal connection between discord in society and discord in the psyche. To make his meaning clearer Buchan offered one of his favourite inventions, the story of the upright Victorian statesman with an extraordinary secret life. 'The Loathly Opposite' features a German cryptographer, code named 'Reinmar', who turns psychiatrist after the war. In The Thirty-Nine Steps a gang of German spies hopes to precipitate a world war by assassinating the Greek premier on his visit to London.
This article reexamines Emily Brontë’s poetry focusing on dungeons and imprisonment, discussing how her prisoner characters compare their incarceration to being buried alive. Strong poetic and thematic dynamics of rising and falling also structure these experiences, particularly as manifest in depictions of the yearning soul flying away from the inert, living-dead body. Little Brontë scholarship has focused, thus far, on the actual narratives and themes of the Gondal poems, and still less on their philosophical significance, a lacuna this article hopes to begin to fill. It considers these poems in relation to the homophonic and etymological linkage of grave (receptacle for the dead) and grave (weighty, serious) with engrave, to inscribe something into a hard surface, often stone, using a lens informed by Mary Jacobus’s work on the gravity of things in nineteenth-century poetry, and Simone Weil’s writing on limitation and transcendence. Ultimately, it argues that Brontë’s philosophical and poetic priorities lie in this movement between states, in the phenomenology of yearning for such a paradoxical liberation, and in the body’s gravity, a metaphor for mortal time, upon which souls and poems might be engraved.
This chapter suggests that John McGahern's work is in many ways emblematic of an exploration of the condition and reality of the foreign that is lacking in the collections of stories. By surveying the depiction of the foreigner in contemporary Irish fiction, it shows the failure to consider the stranger as anything other than a means to expand upon the state of the Irish nation as increasingly fractured and lost. The chapter also shows how McGahern's novel, That They May Face the Rising Sun, offers ways for us to understand the complexity of exile, migrant existence and homecoming. It argues that the immigrant characters in twenty-first-century Irish literature come from a 'nowhere-in-particular', have no history and are driven by the desire to be assimilated into Irish society, thus absolving the reader from having to engage with their dual existence. The chapter focuses on Julia Kristeva's theories of the stranger.
In Tess of the d’Urbervilles (1891), Thomas Hardy imagines a Brazil that functions as an established settler colony and as a more informal zone of economic influence. This imperial anachronism that played out in an ostensibly sovereign Brazil, as my reading will show, physically and ideologically deforms Angel and his fellow colonists. Angel’s moral awakening accompanies a body ripped apart by the competing demands of settlement and movement aligned, on one hand, with older models of imperial expansion and, on the other, with newer modes of economic dominance driven by infrastructural investment and speculation. As a site of Britain’s economic influence, Brazil becomes a potent symbol of the dangers of pursuing an anachronistic imperial model and a fatal warning back home that attempting to replicate older models of colonial governance cannot remedy England’s provincial woes.
Comparing Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865) with medical essays found in Carroll’s private library, this article argues that an examination of Alice’s Adventures “through the looking-glass” of Victorian psychology can generate new perspectives of the novel. It demonstrates that Carroll’s literary treatment of nonsense—illustrated by the characters’ linguistic and cognitive incongruities, identity issues, forgetfulness, and altered perception of time—builds upon mid-nineteenth-century psychological investigations of the similarities between sleeping and madness. This article also shows that while little is known about the meanings that psychology and psychiatry bestowed upon the novel before the emergence of psychoanalysis in the 1930s, Alice’s Adventures supplied Victorian writers of psychology with a means of illustrating their ideas. My exploration of the two-way influence between Alice’s Adventures and Victorian psychology aims to shine a light on Carroll’s representation of the madness that characterizes Alice’s dreamworld of Wonderland. By likening Alice’s behavior to that of the “mad” characters in the novel, Carroll portrays Wonderland as a place where childhood dreaming and adult insanity converge in their capacity to provide escape from dull, everyday reality into the absurdities of nonsense.
Accustomed as we are to the presence of nuns in the religious landscape of early modern Europe, we imagine a straightforward trajectory by which secular women who entered a convent took vows and donned a veil. This chapter interrogates the seemingly simple process by which laywomen were “converted” into nuns. Upon entering convents, women crossed a border that separated the profane from the sacred. The cloister setting, in turn, required them to adapt to a very different type of existence. They were expected to adhere to monastic principles, many of which were distinctly gendered. Using evidence from English and Spanish convents between 1450 and 1650, this paper will analyze the mechanisms, and the material considerations, that shaped this transformation. How did religious rules, convent architecture, male ecclesiastical oversight, material culture, the rhythms of daily life within the convent, and other factors shape the process by which secular women became nuns? Ultimately, the chapter argues, these conversions were uneven or incomplete. The mechanisms listed above that conditioned this conversion permitted and sometimes even encouraged a complicated identity that blurred the distinction between sacred and secular worlds.
This chapter examines religious identity, and in particular conversion, in the early modern Mediterranean through the prism of gender. It surveys attitudes towards women’s religiosity and their susceptibility to conversion from Muslim, Jewish and Christian perspectives, and will compare and contrast the motivations for conversion of men and women. I argue that sweeping generalizations about women’s religiosity must be approached with caution. Women were probably no more or less inclined to conversion than men, they voluntarily chose or rejected conversion, or could be compelled to convert; their ‘apparent greater religiosity’ was itself a social and polemical construct, deployed to particular ends on varied occasions.
This chapter discusses in detail two projects that were a direct result of developing a sense of familiarity with the subject before ever undertaking any image production. The two projects are 1000 Yards; Or So and discarded dog shit bag (DDSB). The chapter discusses thought processes when undertaking the work and the key factors that initiated the projects. It describes how the work fits firmly within the sense of being 'about' something and how issues raised within the work have a resonance to wider issues appertaining to environmental concerns. The chapter undertook three major bodies of work exploring global nuclear history, including visits to Hiroshima and Nagasaki, to the Chernobyl exclusion zone and to nuclear sites in Cumbria. It talks about the possibility of developing the work as an online mapping project, visualising the distribution and density of DDSBs on both a national and a global basis.
This chapter explores the role of photomontage in the development of windfarms in Britain, and how the production of such an image contributes to the meaning-making and ontology of a new windfarm. It links the trajectory of the development of windfarm photomontage with insights from ecocriticism, an academic discipline which reads environmental texts with and against literary and artistic works and has developed contemporaneously, gradually widening in scope and praxis. The chapter also explores the policy and regulatory context for the environmental assessment of landscape and the visual assessment of windfarms. Visualisations of windfarms have been central to issues of their social acceptance and community support. Driven by the expansion of windfarm development and the demands for more information, the emerging practice of Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) has become ever more extensive. A critical component of the EIA is the Landscape and Visual Impact Assessment (LVIA).
This chapter presents an interview of John McGahern by the author in the Gresham Hotel on O'Connell Street, Dublin, on 12 October 2004. The interview pre-dates the publication of Memoir and Creatures of the Earth, as well as the instigation of a collected edition of his occasional non-fictional prose. The interview brings together many of the topics such as: McGahern's literary influences, his style, critical writing, his views on painting, on ritual, Dublin circles of the 1960s and the process of 'getting the words right'. McGahern think that the novel is the most social of all the art forms, and is the most dependent on a system of manners. The system of manners is intricately linked to style. Style is the expression of personality, which is a mysterious thing.