This chapter explores the linguistic consequences of language contact between English and Afrikaans in South Africa, focusing on the English spoken by Afrikaans speakers in South Africa. Against the backdrop of two centuries of language contact and bilingualism, the multifaceted nature of interactions in diverse social settings are investigated, and the linguistic outcomes of these settings are outlined. The chapter highlights the bidirectional influence between Afrikaans and English, with evidence of influence mainly from Afrikaans to Afrikaans South African English (ASAE), but the reciprocal influence between ASAE and other vernaculars is also highlighted. The linguistic review describes ASAE pronunciation, vocabulary, grammar, and stylistic features, by offering evidence from corpora, dictionaries and important works on the two ethnic subvarieties of ASAE. Overall, strong similarities with White South African English are found, but some differences reveal the influence from Afrikaans. For phonological features, there are quantity rather than quality differences for the tense-lax vowel contrast and hiatus breaking through [h] that distinguish ASAE from WSAE. For lexicogrammar, ASAE is observed to model its use of lexemes, collocational patterns and more abstract grammatical patterns, on Afrikaans constructions. The likelihood that White South African English speakers are not directly influenced by Afrikaans itself but rather by ASAE is considered as a topic for further study.

This chapter explores the category of the “EcoGothic” that has emerged out of the attempt by Gothic Studies to confront the reality of the climate crisis and ideas of the Anthropocene. The Gothic is often presented as a privileged mode, given its interest in affective states of fear and horror and its ability to operate at different scales from domestic realism. It can evoke apocalypse and planetary transformations, from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein to John Ruskin’s late lectures on storm clouds. The chapter proposes the EcoGothic be considered less as a set of objects or texts than a method of apprehension of many kinds of Victorian cultural objects. Authors discussed include Edmund Burke, Anne Radcliffe, Matthew Lewis, Charles Lyell, Charles Darwin, H. G. Wells, Robert Louis Stevenson, M. P. Shiel, H. P. Lovecraft, Algernon Blackwood, and others.

This chapter focuses on race in Pater’s works, contextualising these within the racial politics of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Western aesthetic discourse, especially in the work of two of Pater’s major intellectual influences, the art historian Johann Joachim Winckelmann, and the philosopher Immanuel Kant, who profoundly shaped the cultural context of discussions of art and beauty in the West. It analyses how Pater’s writings on classical Greek sculptures and the ancient Greek god Apollo responded to this earlier cultural history, focusing on his early essay “Winckelmann” (1873) and his later short story “Apollo in Picardy” (1893). The final section examines “A Study of Dionysus” (1876) and “Denys l’Auxerrois” (1886), works where Pater portrays the wine-god, traditionally depicted as the embodiment of Oriental excess, violence, and irrationality, in a manner that affirms marginalised forms of knowledge and ways of perceiving the world associated with “Orientalised” racial groups.

The chapter is intended to offer answers to the following crucial questions often raised regarding Islam’s economic system:

• Does Islam offer an economic system and, if so, what is the blueprint of that system? What is the position of land, labour, capital and organization in this blueprint?

• Can the funds of zakāh and sadaqat (mandatory and normal charity) be used for social welfare?

• Can we successfully introduce an interest-free economy?

• What is the interrelationship of the economic, political, social and religious systems in Islam?

Nicola LeFanu, Maconchy’s younger daughter, discusses her role as curator of her mother’s legacy. The three decades since Maconchy’s death in 1994 are covered. Obituaries are cited and an inevitable fluctuation of reputation. The centenary in 2007 is covered in depth, as since then Maconchy’s reputation has steadily grown. The chapter details the many performances, concerts and other tributes, including BBC ‘Composer of the Week’ and a heritage blue plaque on her former home. New publications (Chester Music) are detailed, from 2007 onward. The successful revivals of the three one -act operas are noted.

Increasing attention is cited, noting journal articles and the advent of key books, notably the publication of correspondence. Bibliography is provided.

Attention is paid to the abundance of new recordings, with details given.

LeFanu notes the ever-increasing interest in Maconchy’s music. She concludes with recollection of her mother’s dauntless personality, and a summary of the rich musical legacy.

Maududi also wrote an immensely popular commentary on the Quran. This genre of writing is often excluded from an assessment of Maududi’s political thought. However, for Maududi, all his endeavours were connected. His commentary and translation of Surah Al Fatiha indicates some abiding concerns.

In this chapter, early efforts at legal codification relevant to submarines are seen in the work of learned societies, such as the Institut de Droit International and the International Law Association, as well as in discussions leading to the conventions adopted at the two Hague Peace Conferences. However, submarines were not specifically addressed but fell within a category of belligerent warships; an early proposal to ban submarines as weapons being unsuccessful. Discussions at this time concerned passage in territorial waters and straits, and particularly the rights and duties of belligerents and neutrals. International law on navigational rights in territorial waters was unsettled as World War I began. The critical role of submarines during World War I prompted States to adopt laws that specifically addressed submarines, including requirements to surface in the territorial sea. The chapter reflects on these emergent laws regulating submarines in both times of war and peace.

This chapter argues that to truly understand Emerson, we need to see and hear him at the lectern. It sketches Emerson’s place within the performance culture and popular lecture circuit of antebellum America and contends that we should regard his works as a form of “voiced essay.” The chapter brings to life Emerson’s dramatic, modulated style as a performer of his own work, showing how his writing simulates these spoken elements at the levels of both style and theme, and inviting readers to become active listeners. The “voiced essay” ultimately dissolves strict boundaries between orality and writing, energizing a new form of social engagement. By encouraging readers to hear Emerson as a figure with a strikingly modern grasp of media forms and the synergy between orality and textuality, the chapter underscores Emerson’s ongoing relevance to debates about performance, intellectual virality, authority, and the transmission of ideas.

This chapter considers the place of democracy in the writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson. By conceptualizing democracy, in pragmatist fashion, as a “way of life,” Emerson can be shown to have engaged democracy throughout his career in several different dimensions, both within and beyond official, state, or legal power relations. While Emerson participated in a discourse that was skeptical of the social dynamics of democracy in mass society, he simultaneously upheld his commitment to a philosophy of history that recognized in what he called “the democratic element” a driving force toward greater justice and equality. Democracy furthermore provided the key through which Emerson interpreted his own practice and poetics as a freelance lecturer. Emerson’s commitment to a transcendentally conceived notion of justice at times came into conflict with democracy’s requirements of negotiation and compromise, particularly in the context of radical abolitionism and the Civil War. As this chapter argues, Emerson tirelessly strove to resolve this conflict.

When discussing Asian religion, art, and philosophy, Emerson generally bestows praise and tends toward cosmopolitan, universalist sentiments. Old Asian ideas, especially from Persian, Indian, and Chinese traditions, reinforced his Transcendentalist sense of morality and, especially, his belief in “the infinitude of the private man.” In the contexts of geography and history, however, he gravitates toward nationalist, imperialist, and racist views. Here he betrays his vulnerability to some of the ruling ideas of geographical determinism and teleological historicism informing the ideology of manifest destiny. Yet, true to form for a writer who so famously abjured consistency, this basic distinction does not always hold. This chapter thus begins with an examination of Emerson’s discrepant Asias before analyzing how, despite this general dichotomy, he was sometimes able to subvert prevailing tendencies and introduce uncommon subtleties to his representation of Asia, its cultures, and its peoples.

This chapter presents English in the Philippines, its evolution from a transported language to its many forms today as Englishes within and beyond Philippine borders. With this within-and-beyond approach to Philippine Englishes (PhEs), a blend of old and new histories is hopefully reached to underscore an important point, namely that English in the Philippines is not fixed nor unaffected by history. English arrived in 1898 with the establishment of the American colonial government. Due to the widespread public education system introduced by the Americans, English leapt from foundation stage to stabilization in a few decades, and proceeded to its present state as differentiated forms. In this chapter, illustrations of Englishes in the everyday realities of multilingual and translingual Filipinos are presented. However, PhEs also spill over borders. In labor migration contexts, PhEs are disentangled in the phenomenal movement of Filipino migrant workers across the globe. In presenting PhEs, we invoke multi/translingual complexities and processes associated with mobility, as we flesh out a more complex and contingent historicizing of Englishes within and beyond the Philippines.

Poetry and poethood have long been intertwined with floral imagery starting with the ancient Greek idea of poems as flowers (anthoi), with the anthology (anthologia), the garland (stephanos), and, later the florilegium, being a gathering or collection of poets’ or writers’ finest flowers. Victorian poetry is an efflorescence of such ideas, its book titles frequently designating verse collections by one or more poets as a sheaf, posy, bouquet, nosegay, or as an idyllic garden retreat. Botanical images and metaphors of seeds, flowers, leaves, and shoots regularly occur as markers of the poet’s vocation, especially in prefatory poems and poetic dedications, while the lyric poem is often identified as a flower and a floral gift. Drawing on a large range of poetic examples, this chapter includes discussion of poems by Alfred Tennyson, Elizabeth Barrett-Browning, Mark André Raffalovich, Thomas Hardy, Eugene Lee-Hamilton, A. E. Housman, and Michael Field.

This chapter accounts for Emerson’s complex, and sometimes seemingly contradictory, relationship to religion and religious experience. While Emerson definitively left the Christian ministry in the early 1830s – turning his back on eight generations of his forefathers who had all become ministers – he never abandoned a profound interest in broader forms of spirituality, including those outside the pale of Christendom. If reason and faith were to be found “in the woods” (and not the church), as his inaugural debut Nature (1836) provocatively claimed, some critics have read Emerson as a secularist (or at the very least a naturalist), epitomizing larger dynamics of nineteenth-century dis- and re-enchantment. This chapter aims for a more nuanced (and multi-hued) view, arguing that Emerson believed the “spiritual laws” of the cosmos could be explained by the twinned activities of science and poetics as forms of social praxis, a communal making of beauty and truth.

The Introduction observes that a significant strand of twenty-first-century fiction is attempting to connect the human to other-than-human scales. I suggest that this fiction performs epistemic and ethical work because it foregrounds relations of biological and ecological interdependence. I situate my study in the context of scale theory and outline the eco-political and symbiopolitical stakes of scalar rhetoric. I then highlight the different ways in which multi-scalar poetics stimulate ontological and ethical questioning, produce new conceptions of self, agency, and environment, and ultimately enable ecological response-ability. Scale-switching, I argue, is not only a significant writing practice but a necessary reading methodology. I then introduce the three main devices analysed in the book: critical synecdoche, ontological metalepsis, and scalar irony.

Did Victorian literature prompt political change? This chapter examines Thomas Hood’s “Song of the Shirt” and Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s “Cry of the Children,” both credited with bringing mass awareness to exploitative labor. But what part did they play in actually changing Victorian society? Levine argues that a single work of art, then as now, does not accomplish change unless it takes part in campaigns that are organized around three social forms: large shows of public support, sustained pressure over time, and specific, well-articulated goals. Analyzing the relations between literary and activist forms not only throws light on Victorian culture but can also help literary scholars now to engage in effective political and social struggle.