This chapter aims to consider how Dans Ma Peau frees the female werewolf from the status of the body to allow it to be considered as a mode of embodiment. Dans Ma Peau has been classed among a large number of films emerging from France that are aggressively difficult to watch. The chapter discusses similarities between Dans Ma Peau and werewolf narratives, such as the split-self, the split world within the film, representations of transformation, and how each have severe limitations for theorising female subjectivity. In the case of Dans Ma Peau, the entire film is arguably a transformation scene for Esther as she slowly and irreversibly loses herself to her desire for self-harm, yet there is one particular scene where she significantly represents the shape-shifter. A dominant werewolf and shape-shifter narrative is that of the split-self.

The ‘cellarage scene’, which follows Hamlet’s interview with the Ghost, stages the latter in a very ambiguous and disconcerting way. This chapter turns to more popular, medieval, intertextual antecedents of Hamlet’s ghostly figure, arguing that this sequence looks back towards medieval stage traditions that survived into the late-sixteenth century, not only because the couple formed by the subterranean Ghost and Hamlet is reminiscent of that of the Devil and the Vice in morality plays, but also because of other, more specific elements like the plurality of the oath, Hamlet’s disrespectful tone and the nicknames given by Hamlet to the Ghost. The whole sequence may be seen both as a living tableau on the stage and as comic relief, part of Hamlet’s wider propensity for puns.

At a time when women were beginning to find opportunities for voluntary public work under the aegis of philanthropic bodies, it became possible for them to take on leading roles in the new field of animal welfare. As well as being the foremost sponsors of charities like the Metropolitan Drinking Fountain and Cattle Trough Association, women themselves founded the majority of animal refuges. They included the Battersea Dogs’ Home initiated by Mary Tealby, which overcame misogynistic prejudice to become a prominent state-subsidised institution – arguably by compromising its original home-making ideals. Sir Arthur Helps in Some Talk about Animals (1873) discerned the differences between male and female attitudes to animal suffering – women being much more impulsively compassionate. The book’s dedicatee, Baroness Angela Burdett-Coutts, was the most influential of all female animal advocates in the Victorian era, as leader of the newly created RSPCA ladies’ committee, as a very generous donor to animal causes, and as a frequent letter-writer to the press. The statue of a dog, ‘Greyfriars Bobby’, which she commissioned, was a celebration of canine fidelity; it invested animals with the moral faculties that justified human solicitude for them.

This part investigates the dramatic expansion of the television market in the 1980s–1990s, which also led to a notable shift in TV antiquity. Technological advances such as the introduction of satellite and cable television, plus the increasing dominance of colour meant that TV antiquity now tried to compete with cinema with regard to spectacle and scale. While the production of British antiquity dramas declined, a number of US miniseries conquered the screens. With Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1995–99) popular entertainment programmes emerged that drew inspiration from sword-and-sorcery films made a decade earlier, but also high-profile productions such as ABC’s The Last Days of Pompeii (1984). As this part demonstrates, changes in technology went hand in hand with changes in the production environment, such as network syndication and new global markets, which affected the content of the shows produced during this time.

This chapter uses letters, diaries and under-explored ‘battle experience’ forms produced by British servicemen to understand the everyday lived experience of fighting the Korean War. But it also traces how, through the repeated discussion of ‘experience’ and collective memories of the Second World War, the seeds for Korea’s subsequent cultural obscurity were sown. Korea lacked the moral virtue of the 1939-45 conflict, despite the harsh toll it exacted on its participants. Constant comparisons often concealed the unique elements of the Korean War, including the unfamiliar and often inhospitably landscape to the physical and psychological demands of both rapid movement up and down the peninsula. These forgotten elements of British military experience in Korea are vital to any social history of the conflict.

This book proposes that Herminie (1805-74) and Fanny Pereire (1825-1910) played essential but often unremarked roles in the lives and the ultimately spectacular businesses of their husbands, respectively, Emile and Isaac Pereire. For Herminie and Fanny not only provided a family life that was at once supportive, calm, stable, and united, and contributed substantially to the public face their husbands enjoyed and that enabled the Pereire businesses to flourish - as was expected of women of their class - they played an often-unacknowledged role in those businesses. Kinship was the bedrock of the Pereires’ business success. Elite Jewish women also played a role during the Great War similar to the one they had played during the Franco-Prussian War. The fate of Jews in France thereafter and during the Second World War is a tragedy known only too well, however.

This chapter focuses on Bess’s textile production, starting with the textile hangings she produced for Chatsworth, which constitute the most ambitious known artwork produced by an Englishwoman in the early modern period. Although these textiles are in many ways distinct from the emblematic embroideries that Bess produced working alongside Mary, Queen of Scots, her royal prisoner during this period of time, there are also areas of overlap in style and subject matter. These areas of connection between Bess’s textile work and Mary Stuart’s support the assertion that Mary was a catalyst in Bess’s transformation from able embroiderer to what today we would call a textile artist. The chapter pieces together the story of her workshop at Chatsworth, located in the guarderobe there and in its attached room.

The introduction offers an insight into what is a multidisciplinary, sizeable and vibrant academic literature on Muslims in post-war Britain. It outlines the main arguments and theories regarding migration, integration, racism, multiculturalism and Muslim communities in more rural, peripheral and non-metropolitan areas. It presents and explains the study’s aims, rationale and methodology, and introduces the key arguments and themes that run throughout the book through which it makes a contribution to academic scholarship. Finally, it offers an overview of the book’s source material and structure, as well as synopses of the chapters that follow.

Sudha Shah's study has comprehensively traced the fate of the royals in exile, and Amitav Ghosh's novel The Glass Palace provides a fascinating fictionalised portrayal. This chapter begins with an overview of the ouster of Indian 'princes' who were taken as prisoners of war, or deposed on grounds of resistance, maladministration and character defects, from the early 1800s until the 1940s. The nineteenth century saw unparalleled British empire-building in Asia after the consolidation of its position in Ceylon in 1815. When the British invaded Delhi, Bahadur Shah Zafar and his sons took refuge at Hamayun's Tomb, the burial-ground of the Mughal emperor. The chapter examines the overthrow of the last king of Burma following the conquest of Mandalay in 1885. It looks at the removal of a Southeast Asian monarch, the Sultan of Perak in Malaya.

The Introduction begins by placing the present volume in the context of previous and current work on the subject of medieval knowledge. It goes on to give an outline of medieval perspectives on the meaning, value and transmission of knowledge, noting the influence of classical authors and tracing the development of ideas about knowledge through the writings of key Christian thinkers. Isidore of Seville is identified as the key influence of the medieval encyclopaedic tradition and particular attention is paid to the authoritative work of Augustine, Bede and Aquinas. The introduction relates aspects of these medieval perspectives to specific chapters of the book and also highlights the relationship between religious and secular traditions. It ends with a succinct outline of each chapter.

The introductory chapter of Practising Shame lays out the problem of female honour in later medieval England: namely, its problematic reliance on a characteristic (sexual continence) that was revered in women, but also subject to suspicion. This chapter introduces the practices that underpin medieval understandings of female honour, and literature’s role in shaping and articulating those practices in later medieval England. In placing such emphasis on emotion as a practice, and in writing of shamefastness as a practice, Practising Shame contributes to a body of scholarship that is attempting to effect a theoretical shift away from the notion that emotions are something that we ‘have’ (or do not have) and towards the idea that emotions are something that we do. The book’s introduction outlines how shamefastness might be said to constitute an emotional practice and concludes with chapter synopses.