Spanning more than 100 years of Swedish American local history in the Midwest and the West, Jennifer Eastman Attebery's thorough examination of nearly 300 historical legends explores how Swedish Americans employ these narratives in creating, debating, and maintaining group identity. She demonstrates that historical legends can help us better understand how immigrant groups in general, and Swedish Americans in particular, construct and perpetuate a sense of ethnicity as broader notions of nationality, race, and heritage shift over time. The legends Swedish Americans tell about their past are both similar to and distinct from those of others who migrated westward; they participated in settler colonialism while maintaining a sense of their specific, Swedish ethnicity. Unlike racial minority groups, Swedish Americans could claim membership in a majority white community without abandoning their cultural heritage. Their legends and local histories reflect that positioning. Attebery reveals how Swedish American legends are embedded within local history writing, how ostension and rhetoric operate in historical legends, and how vernacular local history writing works in tandem with historical legends to create a common message about a communal past. This impeccably researched study points to ways in which legends about the past possess qualities unique to their subgenre yet can also operate similarly to contemporary legends in their social impact.
In Ovid's "Heroides" and the Augustan Principate, Megan O. Drinkwater makes a compelling case for the importance of Ovid's Heroides as a historical and literary testament, elegantly illustrating how Ovid's literary innovation expresses the unease felt by a citizenry subject to the erosion of their public identity.
The late Russian Empire experienced rapid economic change, social dislocation, and multiple humanitarian crises, enduring two wars, two famines, and three revolutions. A "pastoral activism" took hold as parish clergymen led and organized the response of Russia's Orthodox Christians to these traumatic events. In Russia's Social Gospel, Daniel Scarborough considers the roles played by pastors in the closing decades of the failing tsarist empire and the explosive 1917 revolutions.This volume draws upon extensive archival research to examine the effects of the pastoral movement on Russian society and the Orthodox Church. Scarborough argues that the social work of parish clergymen shifted the focus of Orthodox practice in Russia toward cooperative social activism as a devotional activity. He furthers our understanding of Russian Orthodoxy by illuminating the difficult position of parish priests, who were charged with both spiritual and secular responsibilities but were supported by neither church nor state. His nuanced look at the pastorate shows how social and historical traumas shifted perceptions of what being religious meant, in turn affecting how the Orthodox Church organized itself, and contributed to Russia's modernization.
Transnational solidarity movements often play an important role in reshaping structures of global power. However, there remains a significant gap in the historical literature on collaboration between parties located in the Global South. Facing increasing repression, the Latin American left in the 1960s and 1970s found connection in transnational exchange, organizing with distant activists in Africa, the Middle East, and the Caribbean. By exploring the particularities of South-South solidarity, this volume begins new conversations about what makes these movements unique, how they shaped political identities, and their lasting influence. Jessica Stites Mor looks at four in-depth case studies: the use of legal reform to accomplish the goals of solidarity embedded in Mexico's revolutionary constitution, visual and print media circulated by Cuba and its influence on the agenda of the Afro-Asian block at the United Nations, organizing on behalf of Palestinian nationalism in reshaping Argentina's socialist left, and the role of Latin American Catholic activists in challenging the South African apartheid state. These examples serve as a much-needed road map to navigate our current political climate and show us how solidarity movements might approach future struggles.
During World War II, some two million Jewish refugees relocated from the western regions of the USSR to the Soviet interior. Citizens in the Central Asian territories were at best indifferent--and at worst openly hostile--toward these migrants. Unpopular policies dictated that residents house refugees and share their limited food and essentials with these unwelcome strangers. When the local population began targeting the newcomers, Soviet authorities saw the antisemitic violence as discontentment with the political system itself and came down hard against it. Local authorities, however, were less concerned with the discrimination, focusing instead on absorbing large numbers of displaced people while also managing regional resentment during the most difficult years of the war. Despite the lack of harmonious integration, party officials spread the myth that they had successfully assimilated over ten million evacuees. Albert Kaganovitch reconstructs the conditions that gave rise to this upsurge in antisemitic sentiment and provides new statistical data on the number of Jewish refugees who lived in the Urals, Siberia, and Middle Volga areas. The book's insights into the regional distribution and concentration of these émigrés offer a behind-the-scenes look at the largest and most intensive Jewish migration in history.
Tacey M. Atsitty melds inherited forms such as the sonnet with her Diné and religious experiences to boldly and beautifully reveal a love that can last for eternity. Celebrating and examining the depth and range of her relationships with men, Atsitty tenderly shares experiences of being taught to fish by her father, and, in other poems, reveals intimate moments of burgeoning romantic love with vulnerability and honesty. Grounded in a world both old and constantly remade, she reminds us that it is only by risking everything that we can receive more than we ever imagined. All I know is it's the season when wind comes crying, like a baby whose head knocks a pew during the passing of the sacrament, that silence-- her long inhale filling with pain. --Excerpt from "A February Snow"
Charlottengrad examines the Russian émigré and exile community that found itself in Berlin during the first wave of emigration after the 1917 Revolution brought the tsarist government of Russia crashing down. Roman Utkin shows that the idea of a community aligned with Imperial Russia and hostile to the new Soviet government is far too simplistic. By closely studying the intellectual output of some of the hundreds of thousands of Russian émigrés ensconced in Berlin's Charlottenburg neighborhood, Utkin reveals a picture of some of the world's first "stateless" peoples struggling to understand their new identity as emigrants and exiles, balancing their sense of Russianness with their position in a modern, bustling Western city, and navigating their political and personal positionality toward a homeland that was no longer home.
"The American Civil War has been thoroughly researched and documented by historians over many decades, but it is the individual accounts from those who lived it that personalize this tumultuous time in our nation's history. Lucius S. Moseley's letters to his family in Beloit, Wisconsin, during his three years of service in the 22nd Wisconsin Volunteer Regiment, provide a uniquely candid view from an infantry soldier, through periods of waiting and watching, battle, capture, imprisonment and parole. His writings invite us into scenes of camp life, exhausting drilling and marching, the fall of Atlanta and Sherman's March to the Sea, so many "terrible happenings of war." He freely shares his hopes, complaints, fears and frustrations, alternating between attempts to soothe his parents' worries ("Now I beg you, don't feel the least uneasy about me") to admitting his concerns for survival ("I hope I will be spared but young men as anxious to live as I have to fall.") While "Lute" frequently apologizes for his poor letters, they are filled with vivid details and honest reflections. His march of days - many tedious, some terrorizing - becomes a journey toward greater compassion. Through it all, letters to and from family are a lifeline, for writer and recipient alike. Lute speaks of his sympathy for the black soldiers who cannot read or write and have no way to stay in touch with their own families. He cannot imagine enduring the war without that communication. On April 17, 1864, he writes, "I didn't know until I came into the army how precious everything at home is." By the time the battles are over, an estimated 750,000 men have lost their lives in this brutal war. The scale of suffering, by civilians as well as soldiers, is immeasurable. Lucius Moseley is one of the lucky ones. When he is mustered out in June, 1865, he returns to a peaceful life of farming, family and community. At the age of twenty-two, he has seen more loss and tragedy than most people can know in a lifetime. He also carries a sense of pride for having helped to preserve the union and bring an end to chattel slavery. The boy has become a man"--
Grief fractures and scars. In Afterlife Michael Dhyne picks up the shattered remains, examining each shard in the light, attempting to find meaning--or at least understanding--in the death of his father. "If I tell the story in reverse, / it still ends with nothing," he writes. Yet it is in the telling that Dhyne's story--and the world he creates--is filled. The echoes of his childhood loss reverberate through adolescence and adulthood, his body, the bodies of those he loves, and the world around them--from Bourbon Street to dark and lonely bedrooms, from grief support groups to heartachingly beautiful sunsets. How we are shaped by our experiences, and how we refuse to be shaped, is at the heart of the poet's search for memory, meaning, and love--in all its forms and wonders. This bold and tender debut is a rousing reminder that poetry and art can heal. "It's one thing to remember, another to not forget. A girl says, Can I start with my birth? and I ask her if anything happened before that, her eyes bright with wonder." --Excerpt from "95 South"
Electrifying Indonesia tells the story of the entanglement of politics and technology during Indonesia's rapid post-World War II development. As a central part of its nation-building project, the Indonesian state sought to supply electricity to the entire country, bringing transformative socioeconomic benefits across its heterogeneous territories and populations. While this project was driven by nationalistic impulses, it was also motivated by a genuine interest in social justice. The entanglement of these two ideologies--nation-building and equity--shaped how electrification was carried out, including how the state chose the technologies it did. Private companies and electric cooperatives vied with the hegemonic state power company to participate in a monumental undertaking that would transform daily life for all Indonesians, especially rural citizens. In this innovative volume, Anto Mohsin brings Indonesian studies together with science and technology studies to understand a crucial period in modern Indonesian history. He shows that attempts to illuminate the country were inseparable from the effort to maintain the new nation-state, chart its path to independence, and legitimize ruling regimes. In exchange for an often dramatically improved standard of living, people gave their votes, and their acquiescence, to the ruling government.
In December 1825, a group of liberal aristocrats, officers, and intelligentsia mounted a coup against the tsarist government of Russia. Inspired partially by the democratic revolutions in the United States and France, the Decembrist movement was unsuccessful; however, it led Russia's civil society to new avenues of aspiration and had a lasting impact on Russian culture and politics. Many writers and thinkers belonged to the conspiracy while others, including the poet Alexander Pushkin, were loosely or ambiguously affiliated. While the Decembrist movement and Pushkin's involvement has been well covered by historians, Emily Wang takes a novel approach, examining the emotional and literary motivations behind the movement and the dramatic, failed coup. Through careful readings of the literature of Pushkin and others active in the northern branch of the Decembrist movement, such as Kondraty Ryleev, Wilhelm Küchelbecker, and Fyodor Glinka, Wang traces the development of "emotional communities" among the members and adjacent writers. This book illuminates what Wang terms "civic sentimentalism" the belief that cultivating noble sentiments on an individual level was the key to liberal progress for Russian society, a core part of Decembrist ideology that constituted a key difference from their thought and Pushkin's. The emotional program for Decembrist community members was, in other ways, a civic program for Russia as a whole, one that they strove to enact by any means necessary.
Anton Chekhov is justly famous as an author and a playwright, with his work continuing to appear on stages around the world more than a century after his death. However, he is rarely studied for his intellectual and philosophical theories. His disinterest in developing a "unified idea"--in vogue for Russian intellectuals of his time--and his aversion to the maximalism characteristic of contemporary Russian culture and society set him apart from his fellow writers. As a result, Chekhov's contribution to intellectual and philosophical discourse was obscured both by his contemporaries and by subsequent scholars. Svetlana Evdokimova tackles this gap in Chekhov scholarship, examining the profound connections between his unstated philosophy and his artistic production. Arguing that Chekhov's four major plays (The Cherry Orchard, Three Sisters, The Seagull, and Uncle Vanya) constitute a kind of cycle, Staging Existence offers a major reappraisal of this critical playwright in Russian intellectual history. Evdokimova's deep, careful research into Chekhov's engagement with contemporary philosophy provides insight into both Chekhov's oeuvre and the writer himself.
By the time the Roman poet Valerius Flaccus wrote in the first century CE, the tale of Jason and his famous ship the Argo had been retold so often it was a byword for poetic banality. Why, then, did Valerius construct his epic Argonautica? In this innovative analysis, Jessica Blum-Sorensen argues that it was precisely the myth's overplayed nature that appealed to Valerius, operating in and responding to a period of social and political upheaval. Seeking to comment obliquely on Roman reliance on mythic exempla to guide action and expected outcomes, there was no better vessel for his social and political message than the familiar Argo. Focusing especially on Hercules, Blum-Sorensen explores how Valerius' characters--and, by extension, their Roman audience--misinterpret exemplars of past achievement, or apply them to sad effect in changed circumstances. By reading such models as normative guides to epic triumph, Valerius' Argonauts find themselves enacting tragic outcomes: effectively, the characters impose their nostalgic longing for epic triumph on the events before them, even as Valerius and his audience anticipate the tragedy awaiting his heroes. Valerius thus questions Rome's reliance on the past as a guide to the present, allowing for doubt about the empire's success under the new Flavian regime. It is the literary tradition's exchange between triumphant epic and tragedy that makes the Argo's voyage a perfect vehicle for Valerius' exploration: the tensions between genres both raise and prohibit resolution of anxieties about how the new age--mythological or real--will turn out.
Although understudied in the West, Iurii Trifonov was a canonical Soviet author whose lifetime spanned nearly the whole of the USSR's history and who embodied many of its contradictions. The son of a Bolshevik murdered on Stalin's orders, he wrote his first novel in praise of the dictator's policies. A lifelong Muscovite, he often set his prose in the Central Asian peripheries of the USSR's empire. A subtle critic of the communist regime, he nonetheless benefited from privileges doled out by a censorious state. Scholars have both neglected Trifonov in recent years and focused their limited attention on the author's most famous works, produced in the 1960s through 1980s. Yet almost half of his output was written before then. In Empire of Objects, Benjamin Sutcliffe takes care to consider the author's entire oeuvre. Trifonov's work reflects the paradoxes of a culture that could neither honestly confront the past nor create a viable future, one that alternated between trying to address and attempting to obscure the trauma of Stalinism. He became increasingly incensed by what he perceived as the erosion of sincerity in public and private life, by the impact of technology, and by the state's tacit support of greed and materialism. Trifonov's work, though fictional, offers a compelling window into Soviet culture.
"This book examines consensual policy-making in the Scandinavian countries and shows how strong relations were built between the state and different interest groups in the early twentieth century. The preconditions for these relations are strong civil societies, strong unitary states, and high levels of trust. Consensual policies nevertheless come at a price, and since the 1970s all of the Scandinavian countries have loosened their corporatist structures to pave the way for reforms"--
Originally published under the title Jean-Luc Godard: De permanente Revolutionèar, Ã2020 by Paul Zsolnay Verlag Ges.m.b.H., Wien.
Originally published by H. Aschehoug & Co. under the title Fars Krig, copyright Ã2008 by H. Aschehoug & Co. (W. Nygaard), Oslo.
The poems in Radium Girl hold dual citizenship in the land of the sick and the kingdom of the well. The point where illusion ends and reality begins is never clear, as Celeste Lipkes evokes saints, magicians, scientists, and caregivers in the process of surviving both medical illness and medical training. Slippery metaphors of rabbits in hats, doves in cages, and elaborate escapes explore the inhabitation of a female body as a kind of powerful and violent performance--where the magician's trick of cutting a woman in half is never as far away as we'd like. With humor ("When the doctor says, 'We found something, ' / I don't say: 'no shit' or 'oh thank God, / I've been looking for that sweater everywhere, '") and heartbreak ("Every evening I count the dwindling brass coins / of my patient's platelets while his wife ices / cups of ginger ale he will never drink"), Lipkes reminds us what it means to feel human, to feel afraid, to feel hopeful, to feel. I am the magician, even, some nights alone, finding inside the darkness a small, trembling thing I won't acknowledge as my own. This is someone else's rabbit, I say, and the silence nods back. --Excerpt from "Rabbit"
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