To study the history of spoken English is to study its extant vestiges in written texts. This chapter draws upon work that connects speech and writing in historical English to present a framework for contextualising written documents and the particularities of their relationships to spoken language. It examines how written English represents spoken English through different styles and genres of text and across different chronological periods. A late medieval deposition might provide certain clues to the English spoken at the time owing to the non-standard orthography and the regional morphosyntax. By contrast, a contemporary poem might provide different clues to the twentieth-century English spoken in the Caribbean owing to the representation of local English through lexical, syntactic and orthographic means. Neither of these is a perfectly faithful record of speech, however, and each reflects different constraints of genre, style, writing practices and pragmatic pressures in the Englishes that they depict.

This chapter focuses on the careers of Ivana Loudová (1941–2017) and Sylvie Bodorová (born 1954), two prominent Czech female composers who embarked on their careers in different historical phases of communist Czechoslovakia, dealt with specific cultural-political circumstances, and reacted to distinct domestic and global music styles. Whereas Loudová began her career in the liberal 1960s, a time when Czech artists started to embrace Western avant-garde styles, Bodorová’s work took shape during the normalization era following the 1968 occupation of Czechoslovakia by Warsaw Pact countries. This period officially rejected the reforms of the previous decade and sought to reinstate the aesthetics of socialist realism, which had dominated Czech culture after the communists initially came to power in Czechoslovakia in 1948. Although the two composers were significantly influenced by prominent state music institutions, they also developed unique compositional styles.

The medieval common law offered few public law remedies, the chief being the negative principle that the king could do no wrong: he could not be sued, but his unlawful actions or commands were void. A new chapter began in the sixteenth century with the development of habeas corpus as a means of challenging imprisonment. Since government rested ultimately on the power to lock people up, here at last was a means of reviewing abuses of authority. Habeas corpus was augmented in the seventeenth century by mandamus and certiorari, to review encroachments on other kinds of liberty. Though the new remedies were used to challenge imprisonment by prerogative courts and other governmental actions, the judges sought to make them palatable to the crown by representing them as the exercise (on the king’s behalf) of a higher prerogative. They were ‘prerogative writs’, capable (in Coke’s words) of correcting ‘any manner of misgovernment’.

Generative approaches to synchronic linguistics attempt to describe what is part of a language in a mathematically precise way, and generative approaches to the history of English and other languages model diachronic changes as a sequence of stages of the language with differing formal properties. Formalising the grammars of these stages makes falsifiable predictions about what was grammatical in each stage. Generative accounts include phonological analysis, but this chapter focuses on accounts of morphosyntactic changes. Generativists take child language acquisition to be the locus of language change, which is assumed to occur when children are exposed to different Primary Linguistic Data from what older generations encountered, due to factors like phonological change and language contact. Syntactic changes that have been studied extensively within generative frameworks include the development of modal and other auxiliary verbs, clausal negation and changes in word order, particularly in the positioning of the tensed verb.

This chapter addresses the factors outside of medical care that are responsible for health outcomes: social and structural determinants of health (SDOH). It outlines economic stability, education, health access, neighborhood, built environment, and community context (including income inequality and racism) as some of the upstream drivers of the health-income gradient. These SDOH are framed in economic terms as a local public bad. Managers therefore must take SDOH into account if they are aiming to optimize health outcomes and costs for their population, especially if they are in a population-based or capitated payment system. The evidence about what actions to take is still developing, but some interventions are reviewed including Medicare’s direct contracting model, Medicaid’s section 1115 waivers, community health workers, meal delivery programs, and screening and referring to community organizations. Larger actions such as disparate impact monitoring and changing payment incentives and risk adjustment will need to be taken in the future.

Provisions in consumer contracts that deprive consumers of recourse in the event of a product failure effectively cancel the insurance that the law would otherwise provide to consumers who are injured by sellers of consumer products. This redistributes wealth from the poorest consumers to richer consumers because richer consumers can afford to self-insure against the risk of product failure whereas poorer consumers cannot. It follows that consumer sovereigntist arguments that consumer indifference to consumer-unfriendly contract terms suggests that consumers prefer the lower prices that come with such terms are misleading here. The interests of rich and poor consumers diverge with respect to these contract terms and the fact that rich consumers may carry the day in the market does not imply the consumers as a group prefer these terms. Accordingly, the European approach to consumer law, which treats democratically elected governments regulating consumer contract terms as a more authentic reflection of popular will than the purchase decisions of consumers in markets, may be more appropriate when it comes to the regulation of consumer contracts.

This article examines the sources behind the Pyrrhus Speech in Hamlet, demonstrating how Shakespeare’s manifold interweaving of texts can be decoded through sequential procedures of complexity and ultimately represented through networks.

With the slow metabolism of academic publishing, we are only now seeing in print those works produced during or shortly after Trump’s tenure as 45th president of the United States. Encountering these books now is curiously temporally displacing. On the one hand, such books offer the promise of reflecting soothingly, perhaps therapeutically, on a time confined to the past. The writing of history is a way of telling ourselves that certain things are over. But reading a book that engages in such reflection on the eve of the 2024 presidential election, then attempting to review it the day after forces a dislocation in perspective. Simultaneously, one looks at the past that was safely confined to the narrative of history, and one must also reckon with the traumatic intrusion of that past once again. It is hard not to read these books hauntologically.

The last musicologist to see the original canon-pictures was apparently Eusebius Mandyczewski, who says: ‘At Eisenstadt [the Esterházy family’s principal residence] there are still [1891] preserved Haydn’s presentation canons – as copies – in slender wooden frames, those that he hung on the walls of his room.’ Mandyczewski, a Haydn authority, recognised that the hand in the canon-pictures was not the composer’s, strengthening a claim made in 1811 by Johann Elßler, Haydn’s servant and copyist, that he had copied their music directly from autographs. Mandyczewski’s observation that the frames were ‘slender’ suggests that Haydn adopted a style of framing favoured by collectors of prints, which the composer would have seen in London and which was much imitated in Germany in the later eighteenth century.

The conclusion outlines key points in the book. On a Kantian-Kierkegaardian account, thought experiments lead to presentations that justify calling a thought experiment an experience, though not an empirical or sensory one. Without a sensible object, we can nevertheless have givenness, or presence, but not existence. Cognition, for that reason, is not necessarily truthful: although object-directed, cognition on its own does not justify belief in any particular object’s existence. My conclusion that thought experiments provide cognition rather than knowledge echoes Michael Stuart’s claim that thought experiments increase understanding. Cognition is a common basis for knowledge in Kant, but it is not the same thing as knowledge. The conclusion also draws implications for how we understand faith (religious belief) in Kierkegaard and how thought experiments make sense of the complexity of reality.

Historical thesauri are indispensable tools for understanding the historical lexicon of English. The arrangement of historical lexis by semantic field reveals patterns in vocabulary which cannot be seen in an alphabetical ordering, and so historical thesauri are essential for the investigation of cultural development and the history of ideas as well as charting the evolution of the lexicon. This chapter gives examples from the Historical Thesaurus of English and its related projects, including A Thesaurus of Old English, The Bilingual Thesaurus of Everyday Life in Medieval England and Love, Sex, and Marriage: A Historical Thesaurus. It enumerates the key principles of a historical thesaurus, discusses sources of lexical data as well as the organisational principles by which historical thesauri arrange words, and overviews research projects in the history of English which have been made possible by historical thesauri.

The experience of being tied up in Tehran while eating tangerines, and what it signifies as narrative, metaphor, and theoretical intervention. The chapter combines a personal story about a home invasion with an analysis of social and property relations in the space of the local neighborhood. The author establishes her identity as an arous farangi (a “foreign bride”), meaning both an insider and an outsider in the Iranian cultural community. In parallel, analysis of the history of the burgled house and the changing geography of its residential neighborhood reveals the complex transformations in Iranian class positions and urban spatial organization since the revolution. Whether tragic or absurd, the experience of being tied up in Tehran sets the narrative and interpretive paradigm for the rest of the book.

Chapter 4 analyzes several common features in New Religious Movements that turn violent – a millennial and apocalyptic worldview, totalistic organizational rules, isolation, and real or perceived persecution – and how these features can help make sense of the infusion of violent expectations in the sectarian movement of the Dead Sea Scrolls as represented especially in the Rule of the Community.