“A pacesetter, at the forefront in recognizing the persisting importance of ‘ethnicity as a force both in building nations and in tearing them apart,’ it is also a work of literary merit, crafted by a master wordsmith.” So comments Lucian Pye in reflecting on this classic work in political science and sociology about group identities bending and shaping themselves under the pressure of political change. These transformations seem to have basic similarities, whether they take place in Little Rock or Kenya, Vietnam or Pakistan, Belgium or Biafra.
Isaacs sorts out some fundamentals in forming group identity: the body, names, language, history of origins, religion, and nationality. These are dynamic elements that are melded together but have the possibility of creating new pluralisms.
As the seas rise, the fight intensifies to save the Pacific Ocean’s Marshall Islands from being devoured by the waters around them. At the same time, activists are raising their poetic voices against decades of colonialism, environmental destruction, and social injustice.
Marshallese poet and activist Kathy Jetnil-Kijiner’s writing highlights the traumas of colonialism, racism, forced migration, the legacy of American nuclear testing, and the impending threats of climate change. Bearing witness at the front lines of various activist movements inspires her work and has propelled her poetry onto international stages, where she has performed in front of audiences ranging from elementary school students to more than a hundred world leaders at the United Nations Climate Summit.
The poet connects us to Marshallese daily life and tradition, likening her poetry to a basket and its essential materials. Her cultural roots and her family provides the thick fiber, the structure of the basket. Her diasporic upbringing is the material which wraps around the fiber, an essential layer to the structure of her experiences. And her passion for justice and change, the passion which brings her to the front lines of activist movements—is the stitching that binds these two experiences together.
Iep Jāltok will make history as the first published book of poetry written by a Marshallese author, and it ushers in an important new voice for justice.
John Hendrix drew upon his own varied experiences for this panoramic view of West Texas ranch life, presented here in an integral compilation of flavorful articles written originally for The Cattleman. Touching upon virtually every facet of the cattle industry, they examine economic influences and technological changes as well as the personal and emotional aspects of range life.
Here are accurate, detailed, fascinating descriptions of the day-to-day life of the cowboy, the chuck-wagon cook, the range boss: narratives rich in human interest, in pathos, comedy, drama. Some tell of the organization and operation of the cow camp: the activities of the men, their duties and their entertainments, the clothes they wore, the food they ate, the horses they rode, the language they spoke. Some compare West Texas cattle-handling techniques with those of other sectors, or contrast early techniques with later practices. Others give biographies of cattlemen and cowboys. Still others study the operation, development, problems, and achievements of typical ranches of various types: the early open-range ranches, the large ranches which successfully made the transition to modem operation, the unsuccessful company-owned ranches of the 1880s, the pioneer cattle-feeding projects. Several articles describe the geography of the West Texas cattle country: the vast, arid expanses; the brown-green hills and Cap Rock; the life-giving springs; and the fickle weather. These are all considered in terms of their physical appearance and emotional impact, their importance as economic factors, and their effect on the duties of the cowboys.
Written in direct language and savoring of the life they describe, these articles capture the beauty of the cattle country—as well as its violence, hardships, drudgery. John Hendrix’s affection for the land, the people, and the life gives his writing a special warmth that his readers are sure to recognize and admire.
Texas artist Malcolm Thurgood has provided delightful illustrations for the text, and Wayne Gard, author of The Chisholm Trail and The Great Buffalo Hunt, has written a valuable introduction.
Anthony Di Renzo makes available for the first time since their original publication some eighty years ago a collection of fifteen of Sinclair Lewis’s early business stories.
Among Lewis’s funniest satires, these stories introduce the characters, themes, and techniques that would evolve into Babbitt. Each selection reflects the commercial culture of Lewis’s day, particularly Reason Why advertising, self-help manuals, and the business fiction of the Saturday Evening Post. The stories were published between October 1915 and May 1921 (nine in the Saturday Evening Post, four in Metropolitan Magazine, one in Harper’s Magazine, and one in American Magazine).
Because some things have not changed in the American workplace since Lewis’s day, these highly entertaining and unflinchingly accurate office satires will appeal to the fans of Dilbert and The Drew Carey Show. In a sense, they provide lay readers with an archaeology of white-collar angst and regimentation. The horror and absurdities of contemporary corporate downsizing already existed in the office of the Progressive Era. For an audience contemplating the death of the American middle class, Lewis’s stories provide an important retrospective on earlier times and a preliminary autopsy on the American dream.
Appearing just in time to celebrate the seventy-fifth anniversary of the publication of Babbitt, this collection rescues Lewis’s best early short fiction from obscurity, provides extensive information about his formative years in advertising and public relations, and analyzes both his genius for marketing and his carefully cultivated persona as the Great Salesman of American letters.
The AIDS epidemic soured the memory of the sexual revolution and gay liberation of the 1970s, and prominent politicians, commentators, and academics instructed gay men to forget the sexual cultures of the 1970s in order to ensure a healthy future. But without memory there can be no future, argue Christopher Castiglia and Christopher Reed in this exploration of the struggle over gay memory that marked the decades following the onset of AIDS.
Challenging many of the assumptions behind first-wave queer theory, If Memory Serves offers a new perspective on the emergence of contemporary queer culture from the suppression and repression of gay memory. Drawing on a rich archive of videos, films, television shows, novels, monuments, paintings, and sculptures created in the wake of the epidemic, the authors reveal a resistance among critics to valuing—even recognizing—the inscription of gay memory in art, literature, popular culture, and the built environment. Castiglia and Reed explore such topics as the unacknowledged ways in which the popular sitcom Will and Grace circulated gay subcultural references to awaken a desire for belonging among young viewers; the post-traumatic (un)rememberings of queer theory; and the generation of “ideality politics” in the art of Félix González-Torres, the film Chuck & Buck, and the independent video Video Remains.
Inspired by Alasdair MacIntyre’s insight that “the possession of a historical identity and the possession of a social identity coincide,” Castiglia and Reed demonstrate that memory is crafted in response to inadequacies in the present—and therefore a constructive relation to the past is essential to the imagining of a new future.
Dayna Patterson has produced a book obsessed with motherhood and daughterhood, ancestry, and transition—of home, family, faith, and the narratives woven to uphold the Self. In her debut collection of poetry and lyric essay, Patterson grapples with a patriarchal and polygamous heritage. After learning about her mother’s bisexuality, Patterson befriends doubt while simultaneously feeling the urge to unearth a feminist theology, one that envisions God the Mother taking pride in her place at the banquet table.
Jennifer Franklin reimagines an Antigone for our times in her third collection, If Some God Shakes Your House, where filial devotion and ossified roles of gendered labor become the engine of her defiance. Franklin’s Antigone is ferocious, feeling, and unafraid of the consequences of speaking the truth to power about the political atrocities she has witnessed and personal traumas she has withstood. With a sensitivity that equally elevates the quotidian and the classical, and an attention that moves from the ancient ruins of Pompeii to the right of bodily autonomy and agency stripped away by our own Supreme Court, Franklin reveals the high stakes of our moment where “the one who does the judging judges things all wrong.” Franklin’s Antigone has embraced the sacrifice of self for something greater—a dual devotion to her disabled daughter and to her art. “For twenty years, I have been disappearing,” she writes in the book’s final poem, yet she continues to sing.
Philadelphia has long been a crucial site for the development of Black politics across the nation. If There Is No Struggle There Is No Progress provides an in-depth historical analysis—from the days of the Great Migration to the present—of the people and movements that made the city a center of political activism. The editor and contributors show how Black activists have long protested against police abuse, pushed for education reform, challenged job and housing discrimination, and put presidents in the White House.
If There Is No Struggle There Is No Progress emphasizes the strength of political strategies such as the “Don’t Buy Where You Can’t Work” movement and the Double V campaign. It demonstrates how Black activism helped shift Philadelphia from the Republican machine to Democratic leaders in the 1950s and highlights the election of politicians like Robert N. C. Nix, Sr., the first African American representative from Philadelphia. In addition, it focuses on grassroots movements and the intersection of race, gender, class, and politics in the 1960s, and shows how African Americans from the 1970s to the present challenged Mayor Frank Rizzo and helped elect Mayors Wilson Goode, John Street, and Michael Nutter.
If There Is No Struggle There Is No Progress cogently makes the case that Black activism has long been a powerful force in Philadelphia politics.
Seven years before the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, the Page Law sought to stem the tide of Chinese prostitutes entering the United States. Yet during these seven years, it was not just prostitutes but all Chinese females who encountered at best hostility and at worst expulsion when they reached the "Golden Door."
George Anthony Peffer looks at enforcement of immigration laws to provide the first detailed account of Chinese American women's lives in the pre-exclusion era. Peffer documents the habeas corpus trials in which the wives and daughters of Chinese laborers were required to prove their status as legal immigrants or return to China. He also surveys the virulently anti-Chinese coverage of these trials and the issue of Chinese immigration received in California newspapers, confirming that Chinatown's prostitution industry so dominated the popular imagination as to render other classes of female immigrants all but invisible.
Insightful and groundbreaking, If They Don't Bring Their Women Here amplifies the voices of Chinese immigrant women and establishes a place for them within the historiographic framework of Chinese American studies.
"Could you love me so much that if the whole world turned against us, & we were obliged to live alone, given up by society you could live entirely in me? Could I ever become all the world to you?" --John Miller to Sally McDowell, February 21, 1855
"At last I come to tell you that I am yours. And I pray God to bless us not only in each other but to each other, and to grant us His favor and protection in the important step we are about to take.
If even to this hour I have fears and misgivings, and am disturbed by doubts and anxieties you must forgive me. They grow out of a condition of things as painful as it is unalterable, and out of an anxious temper which is, I think, like dear little Allie's ticklishness "constitutional." They are entirely without justification in anything I know or believe of you for I have the very fullest trust in your affection, and every confidence in your high and honorable character. But the cloud that rests upon the past with me does obscure the present to us both and looks portentous for the future. Yet you must take me with it all. Perhaps I may by and by prove to be something else than a burden to you; and at any rate, my affection is of some value to you, isn't it?" --Sally McDowell to John Miller, April 30, 1855
"If You Love That Lady Don't Marry Her" is a fascinating collection of almost five hundred letters between John Miller (1819-1895) and Sally Campbell Preston McDowell (1821-1895). Their correspondence began in early August 1854 and continued until their marriage in November 1856. The oldest daughter of the late Governor James McDowell of Virginia, Sally McDowell owned and managed Colalto, the family plantation. She was considered part of the South's social and political elite. John Miller, a widower with two young children, was a Presbyterian minister in Philadelphia. Son of Samuel Miller, a founder of Princeton Theological Seminary, he was one of the North's most prominent clergymen.
McDowell and Miller literally fell in love by mail, but one major obstacle blocked their marriage: Sally McDowell was a divorced woman. She had been wed to Governor Francis Thomas of Maryland, but his jealousy and cruelty soon drove her from Annapolis. Although an 1846 legislative divorce freed her to remarry legally, it was not socially acceptable to do so, especially not to "a man of the cloth." So when Miller and McDowell announced their plan to marry, social pressure cost him his pulpit and made her the object of extreme criticism from family members and friends. Although Miller was initially determined to wed despite any opposition, he eventually settled for a long-term engagement to preserve McDowell's social position.
Apart from a few brief visits, Miller and McDowell's relationship depended entirely upon letters. Begun in carefully guarded terms, these letters soon evolved into intimate explorations of their deepening love, their respective gender roles, the problems created by divorce, and religious and familial obligations. McDowell provides the unusual feminist perspective of a divorced woman in mid-nineteenth-century America. As she probes her own inner world, her correspondence with Miller becomes a healing experience through which she gradually surmounts the limitations she experiences as a woman, her depression and the fears resulting from her first marriage, and the stigma of divorce. Ultimately her self- revelations lead to their marriage in November 1856, which lasted until their deaths a week apart almost forty years later.
Because of their unique situation, Miller and McDowell committed to paper the private thoughts and feelings that most couples would have expressed in person. Although their personal relationship forms the principal subject of these letters, the couple also discussed such issues as the growing sectional tensions, national and state politics and politicians, literary figures, church meetings and personages, slave management and behavior, and family and community values and attitudes. Eloquently written, these letters offer a unique window on American society on the eve of the Civil War. They also reveal important information about gender roles and relationship in nineteenth-century America. Because no other book like this exists in print, readers everywhere will welcome "If You Love That Lady Don't Marry Her."
This book presents G. A. Cohen's Gifford Lectures, delivered at the University of Edinburgh in 1996. Focusing on Marxism and Rawlsian liberalism, Cohen draws a connection between these thought systems and the choices that shape a person's life. In the case of Marxism, the relevant life is his own: a communist upbringing in the 1940s in Montreal, which induced a belief in a strongly socialist egalitarian doctrine. The narrative of Cohen's reckoning with that inheritance develops through a series of sophisticated engagements with the central questions of social and political philosophy.
In the case of Rawlsian doctrine, Cohen looks to people's lives in general. He argues that egalitarian justice is not only, as Rawlsian liberalism teaches, a matter of rules that define the structure of society, but also a matter of personal attitude and choice. Personal attitude and choice are, moreover, the stuff of which social structure itself is made. Those truths have not informed political philosophy as much as they should, and Cohen's focus on them brings political philosophy closer to moral philosophy, and to the Judeo-Christian ethical tradition, than it has recently been.
Ignatz takes the form of a cycle of love poems—in radical variations—based on Ignatz Mouse, the rodent anti-hero and love-object of George Herriman’s classic comic strip Krazy Kat. For decades, Krazy Kat rang the changes on a quirky theme of unrequited love: cat loves mouse; mouse hates cat; mouse hits cat with brick; cat mistakes brick for love; and so on, day after day. The backgrounds of the strip were in constant inexplicable flux: a desiccated specimen of Arizona flora morphs in the next panel into a crescent moon, then into a snowcapped butte, while the characters chatted obliviously on, caught up in their own obsessive round.
Moving through pacy, overflowing sentences, enigmatic aphoristic observations, and pointed imagistic vignettes, Youn’s second collection vividly captures the way the world reorients around an object of desire: the certainty that your lover “will appear in the west, backlit by orange isinglass,” the ability to intuit a lover’s presence from the way “unseen flutes / keep whistling the curving phrases of your body.” Youn skillfully draws on the repeating narrative motifs and haunting landscapes of Krazy Kat as she tests and surpasses the limits of lyric to explore the cyclical elements of romanticized love. Youn speaks to and with her poetic forbears, whether St. John Perse, whose phrase “robed in the loveliest robe of the year” (T.S. Eliot’s translation) recurs in several love songs to Ignatz, or Geoffrey Hill, whose Mercian Hymns these poems recall in their serial structure and their commingling of the contemporary and classical. Ignatz is a poignant foray into the inventive possibilities of obsession and passion.
Historically, there has been great deliberation about the limits of human knowledge. Isaac Newton, recognizing his own shortcomings, once described himself as “a boy standing on the seashore . . . whilst the great ocean of truth lay all underscored before me.”
In Ignorance, Nicholas Rescher presents a broad-ranging study that examines the manifestations, consequences, and occasional benefits of ignorance in areas of philosophy, scientific endeavor, and ordinary life. Citing philosophers, theologians, and scientists from Socrates to Steven Hawking, Rescher seeks to uncover the factors that hinder our cognition.
Rescher categorizes ignorance as ontologically grounded (rooted in acts of nature-erasure, chaos, and chance-that prevent fact determination), or epistemically grounded (the inadequacy of our information-securing resources). He then defines the basis of ignorance: inaccessible data; statistical fogs; secreted information; past data that have left no trace; future discoveries; future contingencies; vagrant predicates; and superior intelligences. Such impediments set limits to inquiry and mean that while we can always extend our existing knowledge-variability here is infinite-there are things that we will never know.
Cognitive finitude also hinders our ability to assimilate more than a certain number of facts. We may acquire additional information, but lack the facility to interpret it. More information does not always increase knowledge; it may point us further down the path toward an erroneous conclusion. In light of these deficiencies, Rescher looks to the role of computers in solving problems and expanding our knowledge base, but finds limits to their reasoning capacity.
As Rescher's comprehensive study concludes, ignorance itself is a fertile topic for knowledge, and recognizing the boundaries of our comprehension is where wisdom begins.
The Iliad reveals a traditional oral poetic style, but many researchers believe that the poem cannot be treated as solely a product of oral tradition. In The Iliad and the Oral Epic Tradition, Karol Zieliński argues that neither Homer’s unique artistry nor references to events known from other songs necessarily indicate the use of writing in its composition. The development of traditional oral cycles suggests that the Iliad is only one of many possible retellings of the story of the Trojan War, in this case with Achilles playing the role of protagonist.
The singer has at his disposal a wide range of techniques to attract and arouse the attention of his listeners. He builds on their knowledge of traditional tales—such as the death of Achilles—in all their various forms, as they exist in the collective memory of the society. The singer may intentionally remodel central characters like Achilles, Odysseus, or Paris, without changing their traditional roles or their destinies. As Zieliński demonstrates, the oral poet can alter the plot of a traditional episode as well as transform its ideological significance. Every cyclic song echoes the story of the entire war, even as it depicts only one episode, traditionally extracted from the beginning or the end of the macro-story.
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