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The working classes, colonial subjects, European nationalists, and Roman Catholics—these groups generated intense anxiety for Victorian England’s elite public, which often responded by accusing them of being dangerous conspirators. Bringing together a wide range of literary and historical evidence, Albert D. Pionke argues that the pejorative meanings attached to such opportunistic accusations of conspiracy were undermined by the many valorized versions of secrecy in Victorian society.

After surveying England’s evolving theories of representative politics and individual and collective secretive practices, Pionke traces the intersection of democracy and secrecy through a series of case histories. Using works by Thomas Carlyle, Wilkie Collins, Charles Dickens, Benjamin Disraeli, John Henry Newman, and others, along with periodicals, histories, and parliamentary documents of the period, he shows the rhetorical prominence of groups such as the Freemasons, the Thugs, the Carbonari, the Fenians, and the Jesuits in Victorian democratic discourse.

By highlighting the centrality of representations of conspiracy in every case, Plots of Opportunity shows for the first time the markedly similar strategies of repression, resistance, and concealment used by competing agents in the democracy debate.

This new theory of reader response describes “perverse attachment,” or the powerful desire to intervene in a story, even when it is impossible to do so.

Fiction has long inspired resistance in its readers: making them, for example, wish for a different plot, cringe at a moment of social discomfort, or itch to warn a character about an approaching calamity. These are symptoms of a condition that Anastasia Eccles calls “perverse attachment,” in which a person feels an urge to act on something beyond their control. Eccles theorizes this form of frustrated agency as a constitutive part of the experience of reading fiction, especially under the influence of literary sentimentalism in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. It was also, significantly, a defining aspect of the mass politics that emerged in the same period, which rested on the demands of new political subjects to participate in a process that excluded them.

Perverse Attachments recovers a repertoire of aesthetic responses keyed to the psychodynamics of modern political life: complicity, suspense, historical regret, and cringing. Combining identification and disidentification, immersion and detachment, these experiences challenge deep-seated binaries in our theories of reading and point toward a new account of the political stakes of literary form.

Through readings of works by Charlotte Smith, Walter Scott, Jane Austen, and others Eccles shows how this distinctive aesthetic and political relation shaped the major genres of Romantic fiction and gave rise to some of the novel’s characteristic forms, like the character type of the witness-protagonist and the techniques of free indirect discourse. The result is a major work in the theory of the novel and the history of readerly experience.

Magical realism has become almost synonymous with Latin American fiction, but this way of representing the layered and often contradictory reality of the topsy-turvy, late-capitalist, globalizing world finds equally vivid expression in U.S. multiethnic and British postcolonial literature and film. Writers and filmmakers such as Oscar "Zeta" Acosta, Ana Castillo, Julie Dash, Hanif Kureishi, and Salman Rushdie have made brilliant use of magical realism to articulate the trauma of dislocation and the legacies of colonialism that people of color experience in the postcolonial, multiethnic world.

This book seeks to redeem and refine the theory of magical realism in U.S. multiethnic and British postcolonial literature and film. Frederick Aldama engages in theoretically sophisticated readings of Ana Castillo's So Far from God, Oscar "Zeta" Acosta's Autobiography of a Brown Buffalo, Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children, Shame, The Satanic Verses, and The Moor's Last Sigh, Julie Dash's Daughters of the Dust, and Stephen Frears and Hanif Kureishi's Sammy and Rosie Get Laid. Coining the term "magicorealism" to characterize these works, Aldama not only creates a postethnic critical methodology for enlarging the contact zone between the genres of novel, film, and autobiography, but also shatters the interpretive lens that traditionally confuses the transcription of the real world, where truth and falsity apply, with narrative modes governed by other criteria.

How the provinces, rather than cities or capitals, became the key setting dramatized in—but also transformed by—modern novels in English and French.

To be provincial is to mistake one’s narrow milieu for the world: it is to fall prey to an error of scale. But it is also to feel behind, belated, and excluded from the possibilities of the modern world. In this elegant study of the novel “on provincial time,” Victoria Baena argues that the literary geography of “the provinces” played a key role in forging European narratives of modernity.

In the wake of French revolutionaries’ suppression of older provincial identities and as Britain expanded its imperial reach, the provinces were reinvented on various scales: from countryside to small town, from domestic region to faraway colony. Baena brings together Marxist and feminist spatial theory with a close attention to the politics of narrative form in order to show how the remarkably mobile concept of the provinces developed across social and cultural frameworks from 1800 to 1933. Offering new interpretations of novels of the realist tradition—by Honoré de Balzac, George Eliot, Emily Brontë, George Sand, Thomas Hardy, Marcel Proust, Alain-Fournier, James Joyce, and Claude McKay—she shows how the question of representing the provinces transformed the modern novel.

Provinces of the Mind illuminates some of the more pernicious fictions of provincialism. But it also describes, often movingly, the desire no longer to be provincial, along with the ambivalence and alienation that can entail. Ultimately, the book shows how literary critics can use the provinces to translate questions of literary geography across borders. By interrogating the provincialisms of our own time and place, Baena suggests, critics might make a better case for those worth retaining, as well as a better grasp of those to be left behind.