Chapter 1, Holywell Street Medicine, traces the pornography trade’s birth out of the collapse of revolutionary politics in the 1820s, and shows how early agents in the trade scavenged for content to fill lists of sexual material. This fostered a vibrant mid-century traffic in cheap reprints and reworkings of works on contraception, venereal disease, fertility, and midwifery alongside pornographic novels and prints, bawdy songbooks, and other sexual material, operating out of London’s Holywell Street and other thoroughfares near the Strand. While showing how these agents harnessed the expanding infrastructures of the press and the post to sell their wares works across the nation, this chapter demonstrates that they framed medical works through two different, but compatible, lenses. Following a long line of disreputable publishers, Holywell Street publishers framed medical works as titillating reading material. However, they also adapted earlier radical arguments for sex education and female sexual pleasure, marketing medical works as containers of practical information about the body that readers could apply to support safe, active, and pleasurable sex lives.

Chapter 5 discusses the “whitepaper” or prospectus regime in Titles II–IV MiCA and compares it to the Prospectus Regulation. Following an introduction to the objectives, applicable legislation, and the risk-based differentiation of the prospectus rules, Section 5.3 covers the scope of MiCA’s prospectus rules. Section 5.4 explains the prospectus procedure, including the obligation to publish a prospectus, obliged entities, the approval and publication processes, along with expiration, updating, modification, and supplementing of the prospectus. Section 5.5 addresses the content and form of the prospectus, Section 5.6 the liability for information in the prospectus, and finally, Section 5.7 covers the EU-wide application of the prospectus (EU passport).

This chapter treats the marketing of transatlantic passenger shipping companies from the post-Famine period to the emergence of amphibious aviation at the end of the Free State era. It explores the use of evolving advertising, marketing and public relations techniques, collectively commercial propaganda, in the USA on the transatlantic passenger shipping trade. It compares and contrasts the commercial propaganda of American shipping lines with that of their British and Irish counterparts to determine the degree to which American marketing techniques influenced domestic marketing, shaped consumer tastes and stimulated desire for an American life experience that was grounded in participatory civic consumerism. The chapter suggests that the reverse flow of knowledge and practices, stimulated by temporary and permanent reverse migration, and correspondence with Irish-America, led to the post-Famine modernisation of commercial promotional activity, with attractive communications from America copied by shipping lines and agents in the Irish market to create a domestic, Americanised form of marketing, more sophisticated and polished than previously seen.

Guitar shop showrooms are museums of design. As visitors walk by rows of instruments, they encounter a tactile history of popular music. However, shoppers may notice that the majority of electric guitars available in the modern marketplace are strikingly similar. While there are certainly instances of radically new styles, they are outnumbered by instruments that resemble mid-twentieth century designs, such as the Fender Stratocaster and the Gibson Les Paul. This chapter explores moments in electric guitar design history that speak to marketplace tensions between historical consciousness and innovation. There is a widespread belief that the electric guitar was perfected half a century ago. Therefore, new design choices must be in conversation with the past. Success stories—such as Fender’s Custom Shop series—rely upon such historical nods. Design flops—such as Gibson’s “G-Force” automatic tuner—fail because they innovate beyond what buyers are willing to accept. So, is the electric guitar dead, as some commentators have proclaimed? I argue that the instrument is in a persistent state of rebirth as new models move forwards by looking backwards.

This chapter delves into the challenges and opportunities surrounding the use of non-fungible tokens (NFTs) as a marketing tool. It explores how advertising and marketing have undergone a transformative shift in the 2020s, fueled by user-generated content and advancements in technology. The rise of the Creator Economy and the significant role of NFTs within this ecosystem are thoroughly examined. The chapter places a specific focus on the connection between NFTs and consumers, with an emphasis on early adopters and younger generations such as Gen Z (born between 1996 and 2010) and Gen Alpha (born between 2011 and 2025) consumers. It delves into their preferences, perspectives, and interests in NFTs, while taking into account the broader landscape of the evolving Creator Economy. Ultimately, the chapter advocates for marketers to understand the immense potential of NFTs and embrace consumer empowerment. By doing so, they can navigate the Web 3.0 era effectively and harness the power of NFTs to drive engagement and establish meaningful connections with their target audience.

No foreign humanitarian organization garnered more support from Americans during (and after) World War I than did the Fatherless Children of France Society. From New York City, the Franco-American private philanthropic organization rapidly raised a wave of humanitarian response for the children of France’s war dead, doing so through strategic communication and tireless networking. Members of the FCFS toured US cities, states, and territories, opening chapters and addressing assembled crowds, constantly collecting funds. Speakers vividly described the plight of starving babies in devastated France and invited those who had witnessed the trauma of children to testify. Much of the campaigning was done by women representing local committees. Americans were offered a choice on how to spend their humanitarian dollars. From the moment they became sponsors, they could be involved in the process of selecting their orphans. Most importantly, the FCFS reached the wealthy, middle, and working classes alike. In involving school children, laborers, and members of churches, clubs, and associations, the FCFS encouraged a spirit of cooperative – and sometimes competitive – humanitarianism. As a result, the FCFS mobilized large sections of US society to “adopt” some 300,000 French children who were victims of war and kept the aid flowing from 1915 to 1921.

This chapter is about how a composer can reach their audience. It thinks about marketing in broad terms, understanding the music industry in terms of networks and communities, as well as addressing topics like making and releasing recordings, best practice on social media, building a website and engaging with the press.

Chapter 8 analyzes the marketing of inkiko gacaca; that is, the RPF’s effort to create demand for its invented tradition. By revealing a series of tactics related to this marketing strategy, the book here sheds light on the manufacturing of consent about the meaning of transitional justice in post-genocide Rwanda. The focus is on the presentation of law in everyday life, with particular reference to select localities.

Chapter 9 is an investigation of mythico-history, with a particular focus on the narrative construction of dictatorship. It tells a disturbing story of how and why, in post-genocide Rwanda, law became “a dramatically enacted thing.” To this end, the chapter analyzes the RPFs media campaign in support of the gacaca courts alongside its assault on international law.