The introduction provides a general description of asylum periodicals and a brief introduction to the publishing and medical contexts within which they emerged. Then it discusses the place of asylum periodicals in the ongoing disputes over the social function of psychiatry and mental institutions. I challenge the suspicion with which historians and literary scholars have approached asylum periodicals due to their dual function of serving both patients and institutions. While scholars have perceived asylum periodicals as defined by censorship and, consequently, inauthenticity and unknowability, I argue that asylum periodicals’ positioning does not compromise their value as historical records but requires different approaches to their study, borrowed from book history and literary and periodical studies. A recognition of asylum periodicals and their producers as agents in wider literary networks enables further consideration of these publications and an acknowledgement of their potential to facilitate the generation of new insight about asylums, their inhabitants, and nineteenth-century print culture.

This chapter introduces the reader to the book, describing the aims of the book and the key questions it intends to answer. The book seeks to help English language teachers to understand translanguaging; to raise their awareness of how it may benefit their classrooms; to introduce them to appropriate strategies and practices; and to empower them to explore the ideas presented in their own classrooms to improve the efficacy of their teaching. It provides a brief, initial answer to the question ‘What is translanguaging?’ exploring this question, first, from the point of view of translanguaging theory, and then, from the perspective of translanguaging pedagogy. Initial notes on terminology are provided here. The chapter also describes who the book is for and why, providing introductions to us as the authors. Readers are encouraged to engage critically with the text, and reminded that no two classrooms are alike, hence, different teachers may take away different ideas and implications for their own practice. Readers are also introduced to the first of many reflection tasks, which are present throughout the book to encourage careful thinking and criticality towards the ideas presented.

Models are a comparatively recent addition to the toolkit for studying relevant logics. Although at this point they have been around for a while, with much of the early work on them having been published in the 1970s, algebraic and matrix methods have been used in the study of relevant logics for even longer. There are important connections between matrices for relevant logics and ternary relational frames.

This chapter explores the significance of the interaction between desert and city for the emergent church and its theology in early Byzantium. First, it examines how the desert resisted the city, focusing on the iconic figure of Antony the Great and the early desert dwellers. In withdrawing from the city, the anchorites also withdrew from the spatial and temporal dimensions of earthly life, entering the depths of their consciousness and being. Second, it probes how the desert sought to transcend the city, focusing on Barsanuphius and John in the mid-sixth century. The ascetic ways of these two Old Men, dying unto themselves and the world, as well as the wisdom of their 850 letters, portray a desire for spiritual constructs that overcame city conventions. Third, it looks at the hagiographic portrait of Mary of Egypt and how her liturgical afterlife shaped and transformed the city.

Chapter 4 departs from a key idea: “thinking about the history of the Brazilian novel without considering slavery would be as misleading as imagining the history of Brazil itself without mentioning forced captive labor.” The chapter dives into how slavery and enslaved people appear in some of Brazil’s major nineteenth-century novels, from Teixeira e Sousa’s O filho do pescador to Adolfo Caminha’s Bom-crioulo (1895). It carefully traces these portrayals across different works, highlighting an important distinction. On one side, there’s what the chapter calls “the white perspective,” which you can see in Joaquim Manuel de Macedo’s novels A moreninha and As vítimas-algozes. On the other, there’s “the Black perspective,” represented powerfully by Maria Firmino dos Reis in her novel Úrsula. This contrast shows how authors from different backgrounds approached the topic of slavery, shaping how the institution and its human toll were fictionalized and understood in Brazilian literature.

How has the Mashriq, as a geopolitical and poetic space shaped by colonial legacies, protracted wars, and literary resistance, been imagined? Focusing on South Lebanon, the chapter examines how poets like Abbas Beydoun and Jawdat Fakhreddine reimagine the region’s ruins not as symbols of loss but as sites of resistance and memory. Through close readings of their poetry, it traces how classical Arabic motifs – especially aṭlāl (ruins) – are reworked to confront Israeli occupation and the silencing of the South in dominant literary narratives, arguing that these poets forge a counter-archive that challenges Beiruti-centric war literature and reclaims the South as a central locus of cultural production. In doing so, the chapter situates the Mashriq within a broader framework of anticolonial poetics, where literature becomes a form of witnessing, survival, and political imagination.

Chapter 16 explores the theme of modern Indigenous peoples through five novels: Quarup (1967) by Antônio Calado, Maíra (1976) by Darcy Ribeiro, Nove noites (2002) by Bernardo de Carvalho, O som do rugido da onça (2020) by Micheliny Verunschk, and O que falam as águas (2022) by Ezequiel Vitor Tuxá. It opens by placing nineteenth-century Romantic indianismo alongside its early twentieth-century modernista counterpart, setting the stage for an analysis of Indigenous-themed novels published after the 1960s. While these works share certain themes, they do not form a unified group, as they vary widely in how they approach Indigenous issues. For example, themes of resistance and activism appear only in novels written after the 1988 Brazilian constitution, particularly in those by Verunschk and Tuxá. These two writers, however, offer notably different viewpoints, with Tuxá standing out as the only Indigenous author featured in this chapter.

Relevant logics are logics with demanding conditionals, or implication connectives, that require a substantive connection between their antecedents and consequents. There are different views of what this substantive connection amounts to.

Chapter 11 delves into Erico Veríssimo’s extensive body of work, highlighting its central themes and narrative techniques. The analysis focuses especially on the epic trilogy O tempo e o vento, with particular attention to its first volume, O continente (1949), widely considered the high point of Veríssimo’s literary career. When discussing Noite (1954), the chapter argues that the novel’s plot and development “reaffirm the primacy of the individual over the social machine,” effectively challenging the idea that Veríssimo is merely a horizontal novelist – one whose works cover broad terrain but lack depth. While his stories are truly expansive, they also feature some of the most layered and unforgettable female characters in Brazilian literature, such as Clarissa, Olívia, Ana Terra, Bibiana, and Dona Quitéria. The chapter goes on to examine Veríssimo’s distinctive use of counterpoint, a technique that creates a richly layered narrative and serves as a signature of his style.

This chapter focuses on translanguaging in teacher language use, primarily teacher talk in the classroom, both monologic (e.g., when presenting or explaining) and dialogic (in interaction with learners). It explores the relationship between communication, exposure and understanding within a translingual mindset, identifying five key principles for teacher language use: planning for use, communicating appropriately, ensuring inclusion, prioritising understanding and responding to opportunities. It then exemplifies these through a translanguaging teacher’s rationalisation of her language use during a whole-class lesson stage in Egypt. It goes on to discuss and exemplify common types of teacher talk in a translanguaging classroom: managing, explaining, translating, questioning, responding and interpersonalising. Important translanguaging strategies during teacher talk are then investigated, including embedding, sandwiching, comparative analysis, translingual extensions and translingual scaffolding. Communication beyond the lesson is also explored, as is the relationship between principled, responsive and spontaneous translanguaging.

This chapter shows how Minerva authors championed the Press, taught readers how to read them and helped to shift the culture in proto-Victorian ways. It collects together the solutions that women authors proposed to the range of domestic, social and political issues they tackled, argues that their iterative imitations created a community of readers, as well as of writers, and evaluates Minerva Press fiction by the Aesthetics of Reuse.

This article discusses the formational qualities of Byzantine church decoration, especially icons. It proposes that the iconographic programs of Byzantine churches had a profound effect on the viewers by offering them models for faithfulness and virtue and facilitating their transformation into ideal Christian subjects. My intention is to show that icons in the church do not simply interact with the viewers, but also form and transform them. I explore how iconic subjects worked in Byzantine churches in light of Ivan Drpić’s important insight about the Byzantine self as fundamentally relational and as ‘a replicable likeness’. I wish to show how mosaics and frescoes in Byzantine churches could provoke transformational experiences for their viewers by inviting identification with models of faithfulness and virtue.

Peter Ronaldson was an inmate of the Royal Edinburgh Asylum in the 1840s and contributed to the first issue of its Morningside Mirror. Soon after the publication of the periodical, Ronaldson escaped. Tracing Ronaldson’s story in the available records, the conclusion reflects on the difficulty of constructing coherent narratives out of partially preserved complex and fluid institutional experiences. It nevertheless argues that asylum periodicals are invaluable resources for understanding life in nineteenth-century institutions, suggests directions for further research using the publications, and highlights their relevance to mental health and Mad activism.