This chapter opens with an assertion in the first person. I choose to open this way as this paper is a personal statement on how I see COVID-19 (henceforth Covid) impacting on educational delivery, and also on what I call the ‘pedagogical imagination’. The paper comes at a time when many lines of intellectual, cultural and personal inquiry are converging on a reading of the world, technology, education, consciousness and human action as coterminous in and across space and time. Such convergence is captured in Figure 1, and reminds us that the linear, temporal compass of modernity is exclusive, violent and totally inadequate when the world, and its viral messenger Covid, comes knocking on the doors of our luxurious but fragile mansion. This is an exciting, challenging and potentially overwhelming moment in human self-understanding. Now to the assertion.

Human beings are pattern makers. In turn, culture is the cumulative result of generations of such patterning. Patterning enables meaning which is narrative in nature and contains the logics that hold the world, any given reality, together. Understanding this helps me see our world and the role of education in it as a process of ongoing meaning making. Patterning is meaning making in this case. We can see that this patterning is linked to our agency (or lack thereof) and the way in which technology has enabled us to generate and even impose patterns that confirm our pattern biases as both collectivities and individuals. In the language of Yuval Harari these patterns sustain ‘imagined orders’ (2015). Or, if we go back some years, they are complicit in the ‘imagined communities’ of national identity that Benedict Anderson (1983) identified. Patterning is at the heart of myth, science, education, religion, cities, institutions and most certainly, our understanding of nature.

In the next two chapters, we will explore a subset of the twenty-first century revisionist Westerns that have embraced the extremities of savagery and violence, woven into the DNA of so many Westerns on screen for over a century, but which have been amplified with grim relish in the postmillennial era. This shift towards ultraviolence has of course been hugely affected by the domestic terrorism of the Oklahoma City bombing, the tragic school shootings of Columbine and Sandy Hook, and the horrors of the events of 9/11, 2001. The century began with an attack against not only the symbolic sites in New York and those who suffered and lost their lives, but also on the ideologies, myths and narratives they represented. Many artforms responded to the attacks of 9/11. This can be seen on screen in the increased violent content and tone of such seminal television shows which have been part of the shifting landscape of television generally; productions such as Breaking Bad (2008–2013), The Walking Dead franchise (2010–present) and Homeland (2011–2020) have been viewed in the light of post 9/11 American culture (Takacs, 2012).

The brutal amplification of this ‘new’ viscera in the twenty-first century is seeded in the final year of the previous century in Antonia Bird's Ravenous (1999), which is, importantly, a hybrid horror-Western which embraces Gothic and horror tropes to convey the bleakness of the trials of survival in wartime, and reconfigures established notions of bravery and nobility and the barbarous extent to which people will go to survive. It has been argued though, that cinema has a particularly apt capacity as a cultural litmus. Terrence McSweeney writes:

COVID has brought the realities of our material continuity and our unavoidable proximities to light in ways that are challenging the efficacy of traditional sociopolitical ideals of individualism and autonomy. Moreover, the stark reality that community is primarily regarded in economic rather than spiritual or ethical terms lies at the base of the problematic responses that we have seen (this is especially true from my U.S. perspective). For a post-COVID future to be anything but dystopian, the parameters of community and individuality will need to be rethought and a deeper awareness of our immanent immersive engagements fostered. There are resources both in Deleuzian philosophy and Posthumanism and New Materialist Feminisms that can be marshalled for imagining such post-COVID communities. I will argue that the new materialist view of the interconnectedness of matter (where materiality as such is understood as intra-active and entangled) is a crucially necessary shift in mindset – the obvious benefit is providing a basis and rationale for our moving beyond the rampant individualism that has evidenced itself – at least in the U.S. response. Post-COVID futures require the re-evaluation of the nature of ethical relationships, notions of subjectivity, and political imperatives in a post- COVID world. In what follows, I will address the following three issues: (1) The ‘I’ in the post-COVID era; (2) the social responsibilities of the citizens in the COVID pandemic; and (3) Post-COVID era and alternative futures.

The ‘I’, Post-COVID

If COVID has revealed anything to me, it is that we need a paradigm shift with respect to how we understand the ‘I’ (and I acknowledge that I speak from a particular location – as an American in the United States where what we have seen is an utter refusal to give up our rampant individualism, a doubling down on individual rights over the good of the community, and where there is any discussion of ‘institutions or collective goods’ decisions are being driven by neoliberal concern for economic prosperity – which is itself based in the liberal view of self-interest).

Whatever it is, coronavirus has made the mighty kneel and brought the world to a halt like nothing else could. Our minds are still racing back and forth, longing for a return to “normality,” trying to stitch our future to our past and refusing to acknowledge the rupture. But the rupture exists. And in the midst of this terrible despair, it offers us a chance to rethink the doomsday machine we have built for ourselves. Nothing could be worse than a return to normality.

Historically, pandemics have forced humans to break with the past and imagine their world anew. This one is no different. It is a portal, a gateway between one world and the next.

It is almost five years since Arundhati Roy wrote these prophetic words (https://www.ft.com/content/10d8f5e8-74eb-11ea-95fe-fcd274e920ca) at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. We have already passed through the portal it opened and, largely speaking, we seem to have forgotten the rupture it created in our desperate desire to “stitch our future to our past,” to return to “normality.” However, the old world of normality to which we have attempted to return has returned to us only as a kind of caricature now and, on many levels, we must strain harder to believe it. On this side of the portal, the American empire has already passed through another two genocidal wars in a desperate attempt to re-establish its faded power through proxies and among the rubble its own weapons have created. Its leadership has also passed from a realm of lofty moral indifference into that of farcical Neronian caricature.

Like other late-century writings, New Woman poetry frequently assailed the Victorian institution of marriage. Indeed, marriage represented one of the most addressed concerns of the poets, drawing attention to several factors that placed wives in untenable situations. E. (Edith) Nesbit was especially drawn to the subject, and several of her verses are presented. This chapter is divided into five parts that probe specific and diverse aspects of the flawed institution.

The first section, “Intellectual Stagnation,” examines the yearnings of wives to find more rewarding lives than traditional marriage allowed them. In only one of the poems, the final one in the section, does that desire appear headed for fruition. Nesbit's “The Woman's World” traces the thoughts of a wife who assesses opportunities for freedom and independence rather than remain in a stultifying situation. In “Under Convoy,” Nesbit's protagonist ultimately succumbs to convention instead of pursuing meaningful endeav¬ors. Amy Levy's “Xantippe” recounts the experience of the title character who marries Socrates in hopes of intellectual stimulation, only to discover that they will not be realized. The wife in Isabella J. Southern's “The Thirst for Knowledge,” set in the traditional feminine space of a garden, resists her sheltered existence and feels that her way lies elsewhere.

The two poems in the second section, “Under Tyranny,” present chilling accounts of women trapped by controlling men. Nora Harper's “A Marriage Charm” is spoken by a man who reveals his disturbing plot to dominate a wife completely and prevent her from escaping bondage. The title of Violet Fane's “The Slave Turned Tyrant” serves as a synopsis of a wife's fate, for the dutiful suitor is transformed into a despotic husband.

Misconceptions about women abounded in the Victorian era across numer¬ous fronts. This chapter features poetry confronting four of those troubling assumptions that disturbed New Women. First, women were deemed intel¬lectually inferior to men, which provided a convenient rationale for limit¬ing opportunities in higher education and occupations. Second, women were expected to be meek and submissive, qualities that New Women shunned. Third, women continued to be disparaged because of the long-standing per¬ception that they had inherited the flaws of the biblical Eve, a presumption that New Women challenged. Fourth, women were caught in the binary that disadvantageously linked them to nature as opposed to men being associated with validated culture, even in the late century.

In terms of inferiority, Mary E. Coleridge's “In Dispraise of the Moon” builds on the traditional characterization of the moon as feminine and a lesser body than the masculinized sun; the moon is considered weak, depend¬ent, and inconsequential. The speaker of Dora Sigerson's “The Awakening” regrets her lack of learning but eventually realizes that her lover's mind is actu¬ally mediocre. Three poems contained in Constance Naden's “Evolutional Erotics” feature men who scoff at women's intellect. As in Sigerson's poem, the speaker of “Love versus Learning” realizes that her beloved is mentally stagnant. In “The New Orthodoxy,” a woman regrets that her lover dismisses current scientific thought that she embraced. The title character of “Solomon Redivivus” avidly touts his superiority to a silent Sheba.

The next part focuses on cultural assumptions. Masculine expectations of female behavior include being the object, not the subject, of desire, as in Dora Sigerson Shorter's “Love in Disguise.” The child in May Kendall's “The Toy Shop” transgresses expectations of female docility in favor of self-asser¬tion. Naden's “Love's Mirror” describes a man's vision that his beloved is a Madonna figure, which she disputes until she surrenders to his belief. “Celia's Home-Coming” by A. Mary F. Robinson applauds the titular character for rejecting domestic tradition and acting independently.

Introduction

The outbreak of COVID-19 opened a new vista of moral, economic and social cultural questions that can only be adequately addressed from these different points of view and many others seemingly insignificant positions. For the first time, in a long while, philosophical considerations became the stuff of political debates and everyday conversations. The world was stymied by ethical considerations such as, what is the right thing to do? What can individuals expect from society, and what can society expect of them? Is it right to deprive people of their liberties or to dictate patterns of personal behaviour? Can the government decide where I can go or with whom to associate or to close borders in order to protect our lives from the pandemic? Some other dimensions that were often not mentioned had to do with both economic and social cultural factors. On the economic front, there was always the question of the cost and availability of vaccines to the poor nations of the world spread mainly across the African continent and some parts of Asia which, depended on the western and developed countries for their supply of vaccines. Should others make sacrifices for me, and vice versa? Is it right or just to shut down industries and firms, market places, places of worship and so on, in order to fight a deadly disease? Many of such poor nations with economies that were albeit in a state of inertia or moribund, were certainly not ready or prepared for the economic fallout of the pandemic and so were left poorer off.

Newcastle Permanent is a community-based financial institution (building society in Australia) with its head office on the corner of Union and King streets in downtown Newcastle, Australia. The building itself is a brutalist masterpiece, with tiered floors finished in pebble-crete and narrow windows spanning each floor. An updated refurbishment has added a folding facade of steel and tinted glass to one part of the building, and in front is a land¬scaped garden with palm trees and other coastal plants housed in raised gar¬den beds. The edges of the garden beds are topped with a layer of granite. The granite hangs out over the vertical edge of the garden beds, creating ledges for insurgent play. At the corner of the lot, the garden bed walls start low to the ground and rise upwards, a metre or so off the street level, almost making a pointed corner, a little bit like a ship's bow. The horizontal granite surfaces are covered in rows of small steel blade-like strips spaced about 30 centimetres apart from one another and rising to about 3 centimetres from the granite surface – skatestoppers.

This is a busy junction, and the traffic lights are slow. Pedestrians and driv¬ers have a long time to look at this garden, the trees and the hundreds of steel objects covering the surfaces. In the middle of the day, office workers come and sit in the garden to eat lunch. I have watched as they arrange themselves between the steel blades to find a comfortable position. It is hard to know whether they notice these blades or know what they are for, but on surfaces in cities around the world, bodies encounter these counterinsurgent objects with seeming oblivion.

For skateboarders, the space is tantalising. Granite is a desired surface for insurgent play. It slides and grinds well and doesn't need as much modification and care work as raw concrete.

New Woman poets explored multiple aspects of their craft in verses attuned to such topics as artistic inspiration, daunting challenges, and responsible writing. Among the most prolific authors attuned to metapoetry was A. Mary F. Robinson, whose work is especially intriguing with its compelling observations about multiple facets of the poetic process. Several other poets examined the subject in intriguing ways, as the verses in this chapter reveal. Opinions run the gamut from exhilaration to lamentation.

The first section, “Innovation and Aspiration,” begins with three pieces by Robinson. “The Sonnet” credits women as the originators of the sonnet form through their singing in ancient times. The speaker of “A Search for Apollo” seeks guidance from the god of the arts to produce admirable work. “Sonnet” urges women to eschew masculine poetic paths and forge their own poetic identity. Dollie Radford speaks to the difficult process of reach¬ing creative potential in “Because I built my nest so high.” Another Radford speaker asks, “If you will sing the songs I play.” The soul takes on the artistic role in two poems by Mathilde Blind, as the title of the first one, “Soul-Drift,” suggests. Like an independent being, the soul is credited as the force driving poetic endeavor. Blind's “Prelude” to the lengthy Ascent of Man seeks the soul's power to ascend to artistic heights. The speaker of Olive Custance's “The Song Spinner” realizes that the beauty of her surroundings provides a stimu¬lus for creative work. Similarly, Custance's “The Snow” alleviates a poet's dark outlook as beauty overshadows negativity. In “The Poet” by Violet Fane, the speaker asserts that nature and art, not a duty to provide moral lessons, should be the guiding principle for an author. “Aspiration I” by Emily Pfeiffer relates that poetic power emanates from within oneself to produce innovative work and urges the pursuit of creative goals. L. S. Bevington ponders the effect of misery on creativity in “The Poet's Tear.”

In April 2024, it was announced that the writer John Logan was to adapt Cormac Mcarthy's Blood Meridian for Director John Hillcoat (Variety, 2024). There have been many aborted attempts to transform McCarthy's 1985 South Western Gothic novel to the screen over the decades. In 1995, a screenplay was developed by Tommy Lee Jones with his intention to both direct and star in the film. This version was abandoned because of its extreme and violent content. Ridley Scott later attempted to bring the book to the screen with a script developed in 2004, but again, the unpalatable content at the heart of the narrative proved to be an insurmountable problem. Scott stated that ‘[i]f you’re going to do Blood Meridian you’ve got to go the whole nine yards into the blood bath, and there's no answer to the blood bath, that's part of the story, just the way it is and the way it was’ (Empire, 2008) and that ultimately, ‘you can't apologise for the violence’ (Film, 2024). Others have attempted to bring the novel to the screen including Todd Field and James Franco, but it is clear that the fundamental issue of the savage, nihilistic and relentless nature of the book's content has thus far been an unsolvable issue.

Blood Meridian tells the story of an unnamed narrator (The Kid), who, lost in an apocalyptic world of chaos of Texas in 1833, joins The Glanton Gang (a real life and notorious group of scalp hunters and fighters in the American/ Mexican war lead by John Joel Glanton) not out of any ideological or financial drive, but simply to survive in the whirlwind of gore and depravity he finds himself in. Blood Meridian spans decades and includes many references to true atrocities mixed with quasi-supernatural occurrences that boil down to a gnostic battle between various forces and individuals for the narrator's spirit. What holds the novel together, is its absolute commitment to depicting human savagery in its most intense and unfettered incarnations. It is perhaps not just the violent nature of Blood Meridian that has proven to be so problematic regarding the attempts to adapt it to the screen.