This chapter highlights the careers of Save the Children’s principal field officer in Nigeria, Lieutenant-Commander A. R. Irvine Neave and the African Development Trust’s, Guy and Molly Clutton-Brock to explore the legacies of mission and empire. The former viewed poverty as a product of individual ignorance; the latter argued that it was due to the structural injustice of racist legislation across Southern Africa. Despite these differing imperial and political outlooks, both were, however, ‘techno-missionaries’: products of both the missionary past and the technocratic future of development. Mission stayed on after the empire, but it was transformed by the rise of the modern NGO and the humanitarian agencies such as Oxfam, Save the Children and Christian Aid. It resulted in a ‘third colonial occupation’ of volunteer aid workers alongside the experts and technocrats of social and economic development.

In Parts of Animals IV.10 Aristotle compares the human anatomy to the anatomy of other blooded, live-bearing animals with regard to their external, nonuniform parts. Of all these animals, Aristotle states, human beings alone have hands and arms instead of front-legs due to their erect posture. He associates the erect posture with human beings’ alleged divine nature, exhibited in their intellectual capacities. This poses two challenges that Aristotle addresses in the remainder of PA IV.10: first to show how most distinctive features of the human body (e.g. broad chests, fleshy buttocks, big feet, hands) can ultimately be traced back to the erect posture and second to account for the assumed connection between upright posture and intellectual capacities. Regarding the latter point the present chapter shows why, according to Aristotle, unimpaired thinking requires the upright posture and why the upright posture again requires a certain proportion between the upper and the lower bodily part.

This chapter offers a brief overview of the field of emotion studies and surveys its contribution to the study of Arthurian literature. It then expands on the role of emotion – both as a critical category and as a narrative focus – in the development of the Arthurian canon, focusing on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight as a late exemplar of the development of the courtly romance over time. Ultimately, it considers what emotions may tell us about the narrative intent and structures of the Middle English romance and, more broadly, what the study of Arthurian emotions has to offer to the field of emotion studies.

The Arthurian legends have been taken up by educators, poets, playwrights and novelists in the British colonies in Australia and the societies that emerged from them, developing an Arthurianism that has contributed to the formation of Australian identity and national consciousness. This chapter examines the changing significance of these legends as an imaginative prism through which Australian experience has been refracted. While in some instances Arthurianism distances the colonial subject from their antipodean surrounds, elsewhere it creates a vision of Camelot transformed by life in Australian environments. Arthurian legend has been valuable for exploring the states of colonial dependence and cultural autonomy, and has provided an indispensable resource for understanding modern femininity in the Australian context. Australian Arthurianism’s capacity for constant renewal is reflective of a culture undergoing significant changes in its self-understanding; indeed, renewal is at the heart of Arthurianism itself, even at a profound distance from its source.

Beginning with the Paolo and Francesca episode from Dante’s Inferno, this chapter focuses on rewritings of the episode by Hunt in The Story of Rimini and by Byron in Don Juan and ‘Francesca of Rimini’. These rewritings provide insight into the erotics of shared reading and the subsequent uncertainty surrounding Francesca’s claim that, when she and Paolo settled down to read together, they did so ‘without suspicion’. Teasing out the ambiguities in Dante’s text, Hunt and Byron suggest that reading allows desire to be acknowledged in tacit ways that invite or evade self-awareness (or self-suspicion). Their interpretations of Francesca’s speech also offer reflections on their own poetic styles, with Hunt questioning the difference between naturalness and artfulness, and Byron questioning the sincerity of veiled self-disclosure.

The conclusion summarises the interconnected histories of the plebiscite and its foremost scholar and places them in historical perspective. Both were shaped by Woodrow Wilson’s attempt to reorder the world. Over one hundred years on from that attempt, with major political changes having taken place, and liberal internationalism of the kind advocated by Wilson and followers seemingly having lost its appeal to the United States, the history of Sarah Wambaugh and the plebiscite seems relevant once more.

In the striking opening sentence of Waiting for the Barbarians (1980), the Magistrate’s attention is drawn to the dark sunglasses worn by his sinister military visitor, Colonel Joll: ‘I have never seen anything like it: two little discs of glass suspended in front of his eyes in loops of wire’.1 The Magistrate cannot see Joll’s eyes hidden behind the reflective glasses, pointing here, at the outset, to a larger problem of optical non-reciprocity in Coetzee’s third novel. The opening sentence’s problematisation of the pronomial ‘I’, which simultaneously also points to his unseeing eye, needs to be read in conjunction with the Magistrate’s enigmatic remark at the ending of the novel: ‘There is something staring me in the face, and still I do not see it’ (155).

Early in the text of Works of Love (1847) Kierkegaard makes the claim that “Only when it is a duty to love, only then is love eternally and happily secured against despair.” The purpose of this chapter is to interrogate how this claim might relate to his later claim in The Sickness unto Death (1849) that it is faith that is the opposite of despair. The first section introduces the intertwined dynamics of love and despair as they are traced out by Kierkegaard in both Works of Love and The Sickness unto Death. The second section of this chapter argues that there is a genuine therapy that the loving person undergoes and is able through love of others to heal the sickness unto death that is nothing other than despair. The third and final section of this chapter considers the basis on which we might attribute to Kierkegaard a view of the theological virtues at least as being closely related by dint of a common structure and a common aspiration to consolation and integration of the self with itself in peace and reconciliation despite the unavoidable sorrows of our lives.

Tennyson’s Idylls, so popular a subject of illustration in the Victorian era, have not been the subject of much illustration in the last hundred years – though a number of illustrated editions of ‘The Lady of Shalott’ have appeared in that period. Nevertheless, illustrations of the Idylls influenced a spate of illustrated editions, retellings or adaptations of Malory’s Morte, the book that inspired most of the Arthurian illustrations in the last century, and of other major works, especially of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

In the deliberation entitled, “Love Does Not Seek Its Own,” Kierkegaard develops his notion of distinctiveness [Ejendommelighed] vis-à-vis neighbor love. He introduces a dialectical tension between the duty to seek one’s own as a human task implicated by the divine gift of distinctiveness and the imperative to seek only the neighbor’s own. This chapter unpacks Kierkegaard’s notion of Eiendommelighed, its relationship to courage, Frimodighed [bold confidence], the love commands, and self-sacrifice. Despite his strongly self-sacrificial rhetoric, love demands the cultivation of one’s own distinctiveness, which itself must be understood dialectically as both being one’s own and not one’s own. A dialectical approach affords a more nuanced reading of Works of Love that better reflects the existential complexity of navigating the tension of self-development and self-sacrifice on the ground. To fulfill the duty to develop distinctiveness in both self and other, love must both seek and not seek its own.

Describes Meade’s and his colleagues’ early efforts to plan for the postwar world.