Michael Snape is Durham University’s inaugural Michael Ramsey Professor of Anglican Studies and author and editor of three volumes with Boydell.
This huge, acclaimed work examines the role of religion in the lives of more than 16 million American
men and women who served in the Second World War, and the impact this had on post-war society.
This is a landmark study that will be the standard for years to come and a foundational piece for subsequent specialized studies of religion and the Second World War. CERCLES
The story that Baron tells here is as salutary as it is unfamiliar; far from being ineffectual onlookers, through the YMCA in particular the churches provided a ubiquitous, unstinting and even heroic service to the British soldier in the First World War.
Constitutes a significant contribution to looking afresh at ‘religion and war’. JOURNAL OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY
This highly revisionist study represents a complete reappraisal of the role of the British army chaplain and of the Royal Army Chaplains’ Department in the first century and a half of its existence.
Essential reading for anyone with a serious interest in the wider history of the British army. THE BRITISH ARMY REVIEW
My book proceeds from two premises. The first is that America is an imaginary place with real people living in it (to adapt a line from Marianne Moore’s “Poetry”). Such splendid ideals, and yet so often such sordid realities. My second premise is that slavery and its legacies explain why America should remain so imaginary a place. Both premises assume that slavery and, after it fell, white supremacy generally were—and remain—essential to American capitalism, which requires cheap, unorganized labor. W.E.B. Du Bois observes, in Black Reconstruction (1935): “It must be remembered and never forgotten that the civil war in the South which overthrew Reconstruction [1876-1890] was a determined effort to reduce black labor as nearly as possible to a condition of unlimited exploitation and build a new class of capitalists on this foundation. …This program had to be carried out in open defiance of the clear letter of the law”—and therefore entailed an imposture that kept our national promise illusory.
Or to put the matter in the cooler phrasing of social psychologists Michael W. Kraus, Julian M. Rucker, and Jennifer A. Richeson in a 2017 study: “Race-based economic inequality is both a defining and persistent feature of the United States that is at odds with national narratives regarding progress toward racial equality. … Americans, on average, systematically overestimate the extent to which society has progressed toward racial economic equality.” A great many of us do not know the nation we inhabit; we did not in 1935, when Black Reconstruction appeared (the year after the Federal Housing Administration, a signature New Deal program, was set up deliberately to exclude African-Americans as full beneficiaries); and we did not during the first year of the Trump administration, as Kraus, Rucker, and Richeson indicate.
Through close readings of essays, short stories, and novels by a range of writers, I try to show why this disparity between American ideals and America as it has been remains so durable. So durable, in fact, as still to be news. On the one hand, we have such efforts to rethink American history and literature as the Pulitzer Prize-winning 1619 Project at the New York Times, and, at the same paper, a series of editorials launched as the COVID-19 pandemic seized the nation, under the aspirational heading The America We Need. On the other hand, we have President Trump’s retrograde 调查个人信息celebration of “manifest destiny” and white nationalism at the foot of Mount Rushmore on the eve of Independence Day 2020. These two visions of America can neither be reconciled nor brought to compromise through some “build-a-more-perfect-Union” via media. Why not? Because the slogan “Make America Great Again” – the entire MAGA program and ethno-state ethos – already assumes that the Union had, at some time in its segregated past, already been perfect. The alchemy of MAGA always transmutes change into decay.
Had my book been scheduled for release in fall 2020, I might have concluded it with a close reading of the Mount Rushmore speech and an account of its militarized choreography. The speech, crude though it is, evokes any number of themes in American literature, and my book everywhere examines intersections of the literary, the political, and the historical. In my introduction, I note how telling it is that, in America, opposition to civil rights so often “presents as” (to use the medical term) a radical defense of private property rights. Were I completing the book now, I’d add, in support of that claim, the president’s May 29, 2020, “tweet” assailing, while misrepresenting, the protests led by Black Lives Matter in the wake of the murder of George Floyd on May 25, 2020: “when the looting starts, the shooting starts,” he quipped, borrowing a phrase former Miami police chief Walter Headley used in a December 1967 press conference setting out his policy for “policing” his city’s African-American neighborhoods.
I’d also add to what I already say about neo-Confederate elements in our literature (and in the GOP) due notice of the president’s embrace of the Lost Cause mythos and of “Southern heritage”- whether in summer 2020 or in summer 2017 (after the white supremacist Unite the Right riot in Charlottesville, Virginia); and of course also due notice of his obstreperous efforts to protect monuments honoring Robert E. Lee, Jefferson Davis, et al (my introduction offers a detailed reading of a characteristic passage in Davis’s Rise and Fall of the Confederate Government ). Finally, I’d take note of Senator Tom Cotton’s “no pain, no gain” theory of American slavery, and his intention to prevent K-12 schools from adopting curricula associated with the 1619 Project. But the book stands as it is, made perhaps timelier in this season of mingled discontent and promise, with all the occasion it offers for re-readings of our national literature, and for renewed reflection upon it. I am glad to make my book available for free as a download, and grateful that Camden House had the idea to do it.
Download The Wings of Atalanta: Essays Written along the Color Line free through the end of September, 2020. Visit us here for your copy of the full-text PDF.
This guest post was written by Mark Richardson Professor of English at Doshisha University, Kyoto, Japan.
These extracts say more about this volume than any intro could! Each is filled with wonderful detail, opinion, anecdote, and a deep knowledge of Spain, its history, art and culture. The entire book imparts profound affection for Madrid, Segovia, Avila and Toledo – the “heart of Spanish civilisation”.
调查个人信息On Goya, in the Prado调查个人信息:
The dominant canvas here is La Familia de Carlos IV. Goya’s first patron, Charles III, had died in 1788, leaving his amiable, slow-witted son an outstanding court painter and his painter a family hardly distinguished for good looks. But they were no uglier than the Habsburgs and their consorts who had confronted Velázquez and Carre?o. Also, Goya managed to treat the King’s good-natured, undistinguished face with real affection, while there are enchanting passages throughout the whole picture, especially the young couple on the right, Don Luis de Borbón, the King’s son-in-law, with his wife and babe-in-arms – while even the future Ferdinand VII in blue on the left, whose later role in Spanish history is not exactly glorious, appears here as an attractive princeling of promise. Goya does not attempt to endow the Queen’s purse-lipped (she was toothless) and self-satisfied (she wore the trousers) face with charm or dignity, both of which it conspicuously lacked, but he does justice to her well-rounded arms of which she was inordinately proud.
Chapter One, Madrid, p. 51
调查个人信息On Alcalá de Henares调查个人信息:
On the left is the Casa de Cervantes built in 1955 on the site of the house in which the author of Don Quijote was born. His father held the post of surgeon and bloodletter in the adjacent hospital, founded in 1487. The interior offers an idea of a sixteenth-century dwelling, with furnishings, and a multi-lingual collection of Don Quijote editions. A little way up the side street is the Plateresque entrance of the Carmelite convent governed by Saint Teresa for some months in 1567. Continuing along the main street we emerge into the large Plaza de Cervantes, with a bandstand and a statue of the great man. Also arcaded, the west side includes a theatre which, after being a cinema in the 1970s, has recently revealed a history going back several centuries and appears to rival London’s Shakespearean Globe in antiquity.
Chapter Two, Excursions from Madrid, p. 172
调查个人信息On the Aqueduct in Segovia调查个人信息:
It may seem surprising that so imposing a monument should exist in splendid isolation, for though Roman stones have been identified in the city wall, there are no signs of a theatre, amphitheatre or any other of the appurtenances of Roman civilisation. The answer seems to be that Segovia was simply a military post whose job was to keep the tribes in order. As such, one of its first requirements would have been water, which was accordingly brought with characteristic thoroughness across the valley from the melting snows of the Sierra de Fuenfría. During the great period of the cloth industry, little factories grew up under the aqueduct’s vast granite wing, drawing their water from the top by pipes called cervatanas. The inevitable filtration damaged the fabric and produced cascades of icicles in the hard winters.
Chapter Three, Segovia, p. 185
调查个人信息On the museum commemorating the siege of Toledo during the Civil War调查个人信息:
On the wall is a transcript in many languages, including Arabic and Hebrew, of the telephone conversation held on 23 July 1936, between the Commandant, the chief of the Republican militia, and the Commandant’s son Luis, who had fallen into the enemy’s hands. The militia chief demands the surrender of the Alcázar within ten minutes or Luis will be shot. Luis comes on the line and confirms this will be so if his father does not surrender. Moscardó says, ‘Then commend your soul to God, shout “Long live Spain!” and die like a patriot.’ Luis answers, ‘A big kiss, Father.’ And the latter replies, ‘A big kiss, my son.’ After all, Spain does not change much under the skin. This immediately calls to mind the almost identical action of Guzmán el Bueno in similar circumstances at Tarifa in 1294.
Welcome to September! This month we are publishing books on how regional identities are reflected in text from medieval England, twenty-one completely new essays on aspects of Beethoven’s personal life, an exploration of the East African groundnut scheme and much more!
Enjoy a preview of some of our September releases. Remember, you can get 调查个人信息35%调查个人信息 off all of our titles featured in this post with promo code 调查个人信息BB685调查个人信息.
Michael Haneke’s award-winning film The White Ribbon (2009) is a multilayered reflection on purity, ideology, violence, and child rearing. Although it is set in a small town on the German-Polish border in 1913-14, the eve of the First World War, its violence evokes other historical moments: the breakup of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the rise of National Socialism, 1960s German terrorism, and religious fundamentalism post 9/11. Fatima Naqvi’s book shows that the film bespeaks a certain historical “translatability” into contexts outside of Germany-despite the historical specificity it conveys on a surface level.
The Icelandic mappae mundi (maps of the world), drawn between c.1225 and c.1400, are contemporary to the breathtaking rise of its vernacular literary culture, and provide important insights into the Icelanders’ capacious geographical imaginary in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. However, in comparison with those elsewhere, such as the Hereford mappa mundi, they have received relatively little critical attention.
This book explores these maps not only for what they reveal about the Icelanders’ geographical awareness, but as complex registers of Icelandic national self-perception and imagining, considering them in their various contexts, notably the physical. It reveals fully how Icelanders used the cartographic medium to consider fantasies of national origin, their political structures, and place in Europe.
The small canon of Icelandic word maps is reproduced here photographically, with their texts presented alongside English translations, enabling a wider understanding.