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The Corpus Hermeticum (CH) is a collection of brief esoteric treatises of a philosophical and religious nature, probably written between the 1st and 3rd centuries AD in the hellenic Egypt. Some texts deal not only with cosmological, but also soteriological matters: the precarious state of the human being and a distinct way of life that he can experience. Thus, I intend to show how the CH understands the structure of the human being (nous, soul, body), in analogy with the macroscopic structure of the universe; the origin of the soul, as well as its condition; and the itinerary of conversion suggested as one’s reformation.

Research on the socio-economics of culture, collaborative Web, and the creative economy converge today in an ideological construction: the notions of creative industries and creative economy, at least as they are presented by national or supranational institutions and experts. Most of these themes have been introduced in the Francophone research works by the Anglophone ones. In this regard, the distinction between the various forms of critical research on the one hand, and non-critical, on the other, seems much more fundamental. As such, we propose taking seriously the notion of creative industries, deviating from the definitions given by experts, building a critical theory of creative industries that reflect the dynamics of the economy of symbolic goods.Les travaux sur la socio-économie de la culture, le Web collaboratif et l’économie créative convergent aujourd’hui dans la construction idéologique que forment les problématiques des industries et de l’économie créatives, du moins telles qu’elles sont présentées par des institutions nationales ou supranationales et par des experts. La plupart de ces thèmes ont été introduits dans la recherche francophone par des travaux anglophones. À cet égard, la distinction entre les diverses formes de recherche critique, d’un côté, et acritique, de l’autre, semble beaucoup plus fondamentale. À ce titre, nous proposons de prendre au sérieux la notion d’industries créatives, en s’écartant des définitions qu’en donnent les experts, pour construire une théorie critique des industries créatives rendant compte de la dynamique de l’économie des biens symboliques.

Neste artigo, proponho uma análise do filme Eu, Mamãe e os Meninos (Les garçons et Guillaume, à table! Direção: Guillaume Gallienne. França, 2013) tendo-se em vista uma perspectiva política e relacional das conexões entre psicanálise, narrativa e processo de subjetivação. Minha inspiração para isso está no modo como Judith Butler articula essas dimensões em seu livro Relatar a Si Mesmo: Crítica da Violência Ética ([2005], 2015), no qual a autora propõe uma teoria da formação do sujeito em que a concepção de narrativa de Hannah Arendt cumpre um papel fundamental, depois de ser reformulada pela concepção de self narrável de Adriana Cavarero e combinada à metapsicologia relacional de Jean Laplanche. Desse modo, meu objetivo é convidar Butler e Arendt ao cinema para depois discutir a relação entre narrativa, psicanálise e subjetivação tendo em vista o vínculo entre ética e política que a estória que o personagem Guillaume nos conta sobre quem é pode inspirar.Palavras-Chave: Hannah Arendt; Judith Butler; Subjetivação; Psicanálise; NarrativaJUDITH BUTLER AND HANNAH ARENDT GO TO THE MOVIES: narrative, psychoanalysis and subjectification in the film Me, Myself and MumABSTRACTIn this article, I propose an analysis of the film Me, Myself and Mum (Les garçons et Guillaume, à table! Directed by Guillaume Gallienne. France 2013) with a view to a political and relational perspective of the connections between psychoanalysis, narrative and subjectivation process. My inspiration for this is in the way Judith Butler articulates these dimensions in her book Giving an Account of Oneself (2005). In this work, Butler proposes a theory of the formation of the subject in which Hannah Arendt’s conception of narrative plays a fundamental role, after being reformulated by Adriana Cavarero’s conception of narrable self and combined with Jean Laplanche’s relational metapsychology. In this text, my goal is to invite Butler and Arendt to the movies to later discuss the relationship between narrative, psychoanalysis and subjectivity in view of the link between ethics and politics that the story in which Guillaume tells us about who he is can inspire.Key words: Hannah Arendt; Judith Butler; Subjectivation; Psychoanalysis; NarrativeJUDITH BUTLER ET HANNAH ARENDT VONT AU CINÉMA: narration, psychanalyse et subjectivation dan le film Les Garçons et Guillaume, à table!ABSTRACTDans cet article, je propose une analyse du film Les Garçons et Guillaume, à la Table (Realisation Guillaume Galliene, France, 2013) en vue d’une perspective politique et relationnelle des liens entre psychanalyse, narration et processus de subjectivation. Mon inspiration pour cela réside dans la façon dont Judith Butler articule ces dimensions dans son livre Le Récit de Soi (2005). Dans ce travail, Butler propose une théorie de la formation du sujet dans laquelle la conception de la narration d’Hannah Arendt joue un rôle fondamental, après avoir été reformulée par la conception d’Adriana Cavarero du soi narrable et combinée avec la métapsychologie relationnelle de Jean Laplanche. Dans ce texte, mon objectif est d’inviter Butler et Arendt au cinéma pour discuter plus tard de la relation entre narration, psychanalyse et subjectivité au vu du lien entre éthique et politique que l’histoire dans laquelle Guillaume nous raconte qui il est peut inspirer.Key words: Hannah Arendt; Judith Butler; Subjectivation; Psychanalyse; Narrative

International audience; Tanguy Viel's novels seem at first glance to be about just telling a story. Still, although to varying degrees, their narration always includes a reflexive dimension. For his novels are built from a complex cultural foundation, and this clever mix of influences and original variations is constantly both claimed and questioned. Here, we propose to study from this perspective two emblematic works of this device: Cinema and La Disparition de Jim Sullivan. Both are built on the principle of a story within a story, thus generating multiple mirror-like effects. This paper aims to study four fundamental aspects of this narrative arrangement: the dialogue with the literary and artistic space, the revisited functions of the narrator, the redefinition of the novelistic mimesis, and finally the projection mechanisms at work.; Les romans de Tanguy Viel semblent de prime abord être au service du romanesque pur. Cepen­dant, la narration inclut toujours une dimension réflexive, quoiqu’à des degrés divers. Car les œuvres de Viel s’élaborent à partir d’un substrat culturel complexe, et ce savant mélange d’influences et de variations libres est constamment et revendiqué et interrogé. Nous nous proposons d’étudier dans cette perspective deux œuvres emblématiques de ce dispositif : Cinéma et La Disparition de Jim Sullivan. Toutes deux se construisent sur le prin­cipe du récit dans le récit, engendrant ainsi de multiples effets de spécularité. Notre étude visera à étudier quatre aspects fondamentaux de cet agencement narratif : le dialogue avec l’espace littéraire et artistique, les fonctions revisitées du narrateur, la redéfinition de la mimèsis romanesque, et les mécanismes de projection à l’œuvre.

Helena Blavatsky (1831–1891) developed a program of salvation that she called “double evolution,” which was elaborated in a system known as root race theory. Human souls were seen as traversing through progressive reincarnation a series of seven “races,” or body types, ranging from gigantic amorphous and ethereal bodies and transitioning through hermaphroditic into gigantic gendered ape-like humans, modern humans, and thereafter adepts and divine beings. Although root race theory drew from the scientific racism of its day, it did not equate root races with human races, but to stages of human emanation from and return to divinity. The sources of root race theory have been sought in Eastern contexts due to its use of Hindu and Buddhist terminology, though scholars have noted its Western esoteric influences. This article argues that the primary structure of root race theory is based in the Corpus Hermeticum. It identifies some of Blavatsky’s Hermetic sources, showing that she referred not only generally to a perennialist “Hermetic philosophy” that incorporated Western esoteric tropes, but also to specific Hermetic texts. These texts provided the organizing matrix of root race theory, specifically its creation mythology, support for prior androgyne human existence, a “fall into matter,” and the initial ensoulment of humans with mind, ornous. It also provided a template for the future transformation of humans into divine beings. The article builds on the suggestions of Nicholas Goodrick-Clarke (2013) and Brendan French (2001) to elaborate on the role of Hermetic influence in Blavatsky’s reconfiguring of evolution as a novel form of salvation for an empirically-oriented nineteenth century audience.

von Fintel (Curr Stud Linguist Ser 36:123–152, 2001) and Gillies (Linguist Philos 30(3): 329–360, 2007) have proposed a dynamic strict conditional account of counterfactuals as an alternative to the standard variably strict account due to Stalnaker (Studies in logical theory, Blackwell, London, 1968) and Lewis (Counterfactuals, Blackwell, London, 1973). Von Fintel’s view is motivated largely by so-called reverse Sobel sequences, about which the standard view seems to make the wrong predictions. (The other major motivation is data surrounding so-called negative polarity items, which I do not discuss here.) More recently Moss (Nous 46(3):561–586, 2012) has offered a pragmatic/epistemic explanation that purports to explain the data without requiring abandonment of the standard view. So far the small amount of subsequent literature has focused primarily on the original class of cases motivating the strict conditional view. What is needed in the debate is an examination of the predictions of the dynamic strict conditional account for a broader range of data. I undertake this task here, presenting a slew of cases that are problematic for the strict conditional view but not for Moss’s view, and considering some possible responses. Ultimately I take my contribution to constitute a significant blow to the dynamic strict conditional view, though not a decisive verdict against it.

Redefining French Studies has proven a fertile (and necessary) exercise over the last few decades, as scholars have sought to position, and reposition, theoretical enquiry, pedagogy and the fields of literary, cultural and social critique associated with the term, within debates about globalisation, the transnational and the interdisciplinary.1 More generally, concepts associated with national identities have been revisited2 in the light of contemporary reconfigurations and deterritorialisations of the postcolonial, revealing the extent to which literature in particular engages cosmopolitics (and cosmopoetics) that entail a critical, rather than an instrumental, nationalism as an important pole in how cultural belonging is produced and disseminated, experienced and located. Within these dynamics, considerations of a contemporary novel that situates the national, specifically France, as its focus, requires readings that bring to bear the country's inherent (self-)difference, otherness, trans-ience, all the more so given that the novel in question, Michel Houellebecq's Soumission,3 due to the nature of its plot and its relevance to current events, became implicated in national searches for meaning that ensued.To say 2015 was a difficult year for Paris, and for France, would be an understatement. The nation, and indeed the world, is still trying to understand the terrorist atrocities experienced in January and November 2015, and the questions they raise are far-reaching, for the country, its citizens and its values. These include questions about why and how the events took place, about what responses are appropriate, but also more fundamental interrogations about the nation's engagement with issues such as multiculturalism, integration, communities, the social sphere, gender, poverty and religion. In a social-media-dominated, immediacy-articulated, contemporary experience-scape, we also interrogate our own participation, our affective responses, our curation of a collective mourning, as French, scholars, Francophiles, or others. Importantly, there emerge concerns about whom the "we" behind these questions might designate. Are we (and in what senses) Charlie? Jews? Muslims? Not Charlie? The/a tricolore France? At peace with the Tour Eiffel and its symbolic role as a unifier? At war (as President Hollande would later have it, establishing a trope that would only become more apposite as further atrocities occurred in 2016), but if so with whom, with what? Images and symbols associated with the national, just as much as academic disciplines, are, rightly, increasingly scrutinised and contested just as they are increasingly and differentially mobilised and deployed.Je coupai le son, mais continuai un moment a regarder l'image. Une immense banderole barrait toute la largeur de l'avenue, portant l'inscription : « Nous sommes le peuple de France ». Sur de nombreux petits panneaux dissemines dans la foule etait ecrit, plus simplement : « Nous sommes chez nous » .. .4This account of silent spectatorship, combining televisual witnessing with rhetoric and slogans, the focus on solidarity, national belonging and security, articulates some of the experience "we" evidenced in 2015, in response to January's shootings or November's indiscriminate attacks. Indeed, turning on the news to see mass occupations of the Place de la Republique, vigils, rallies or gatherings became part of "our collective consumption" (I use all three terms advisedly) of Paris's annus horribilis, one way that shock, grief, outrage and disbelief have been anchored and worked through. In this case, however, the words do not describe "our" "own" viewing of the events of 2015. Instead, they refer to a demonstration by supporters of the (a fictional) Front national, led by (a fictional) Marine Le Pen, during the projected presidential elections of May 2022, and the viewer is equally a fictional character, Francois, the protagonist of Michel Houellebecq's 2015 novel, Soumission. …

Dead men tell no tales. However, in Haitian author Yanick Lahens's fourth novel, Bain de lune (2014), the voice of a recently murdered woman insists on being heard. What is remarkable in Bain de lune is not, however, that the dead do indeed tell tales but rather how the tale is told. In the novel, Lahens employs two narrative voices: the first-person (je) narrator, linked to the mutilated body of Cetoute Florival that washes up on the shore of a Haitian village, and the second-person plural (nous), which embodies an ambiguous collective of Haitian peasants and bourgeois landowners spanning time and space. These distinct narrative voices and the formal division between je and nous within the novel call into question conventional wisdom on the narrative capacity of the recently departed but also, and perhaps more importantly, illustrate the novel's active engagement with the past, as Bain de lune undermines traditional distinctions of past, present and future.Recipient of the prestigious Prix Femina in 2014, Bain de lune traces the lives of two Haitian families through a narrative that spans from the US Occupation of Haiti in the early twentieth century to the present day. Adding breadth and complexity to a rich story, two distinct yet overlapping narrative voices unfold the history of the Lafleur and Mesidor families. To help manage the plurality of voices and myriad characters, the novel includes two paratextual elements. The first is a family tree spanning at least seven generations, and the second is a glossary of the Kreyol terms and Vodou spirits that appear within the text. Ostensibly serving as guides for the reader, these elements send another message: Bain de lune is rooted in Haiti's history, and unpacking that history requires specific tools for uncovering the past. This article reveals and examines the narrative elements Lahens employs to engage Haiti's history. Specifically, I argue, the two distinct narrative voices offer a historical matrix that allows the novel to uncover Haiti's history in a way that challenges traditional historiographical practices.To fully appreciate the novel's position within contemporary Haitian literature, it is imperative to understand its lineage within the contexts of both Haitian literature and Lahens's previous works of fiction. More specifically, I consider the implications of what seems to be a return to the Haitian peasant novel amid post-earthquake literary production in Haiti. Furthermore, the fact that Lahens revisits characters and themes that appear in a short story titled "Bain de Lune," from 1999, reinforces the significance of a return to the past in the production of the novel. This double return surrounding the book's genesis works with the dual narrative voices employed in the novel to reveal an active, almost inescapable, engagement with the past and further uncover a complicated, ambivalent relationship to history. Contradicting previous notions of "pastlessness" within the Caribbean, Bain de lune reveals an overabundance of the past, perhaps highlighting the singularity of Haitian authors and their relationship to history as distinct from other Caribbean authors.1Freak of HistoryRecent scholarship has focused on Haiti's position in a globalized framework, drawing attention to what the editors of a special edition of Contemporary French and Francophone Studies have called "a new understanding of Haiti's place in the world, and the world's place in Haiti."2 This special edition seeks to posit Haiti as an active player in a globalized world, suggesting that the nation should not be seen as an aberration, "a freak of history," but rather an integral part of the history of the Western world.3If indeed Haiti is a central player in a globalized world, it has rarely played by the rules, often disrupting or outright discrediting Western discourses on statehood, revolution, and history. For instance, Michael T. Clark suggests, in the modern era of nation states, Haiti has never existed as a sovereign state but rather as "a field of power between the Haitian peasantry and the outside world. …

According to Aristotle's definition of episteme (understanding) in the Posterior Analytics, you have episteme of the proposition that P when you know why P, and you know that it is necessary that P. Episteme is therefore only available for propositions which have an explanation, i.e. the theorems of the science. It is a demanding cognitive state, since knowing the explanation of a proposition in a science requires being able to demonstrate or prove it. Aristotle occasionally refers to the counterpart notion to episteme which applies to propositions which lack an explanation, i.e. the first principles of a science. This counterpart notion is nous, or non-demonstrative understanding. Aristotle never defines it, but it should turn out to be an equally demanding cognitive state to achieve. This paper proposes that you have nous of the proposition that P when you know that nothing explains why P, you know the various ways in which the proposition that P features in explanations in the science, and you know that it is necessary that P.

EU member states can no longer remain competitive in isolation given the current interdependencies at the international level. We analyse in this chapter the trade tendencies in the European Union, and we show the relatively large distance between Germany as the European top exporter and importer, and the following economies. We also analyse economic relations between member states that are designed to respond to non-EU challenges. We find that national member states engage in more collaborative and transnational development strategies for the coming years as a survival strategy in the current international context. Finally, we show how dependent the EU states have become on the single market by looking in depth at a case study of the United Kingdom’s trade relations.

This is a study of Charlotte Delbo’s tragedy Qui rapportera ces paroles ? (1966), the only play in her work that takes place in a concentration and extermination camp, unnamed, and puts forward the spectral choir of her deported friends. The play is a theatrical transposition of Aucun de nous ne reviendra (1946). This rewriting demonstrates the inner power of Delbo’s art. She writes about something that has already been experienced, which is the event at the center of all her testimony, and then rewrites that event in different ways. These variations are intrinsically related to her purpose: “To remain steadfast in bearing testimony” that is infinite and whose writing can never be completed. We used unpublished and archival documents to support our analysis.

This case study about one university’s internationalization initiative, known as North Goes South, provides a nuanced and finely grained understanding of what internationalization looks like in practice. The study was guided by a desire to probe the perceived impact of a Canadian–East African internationalization initiative on students, faculty, and Tanzanian community members. The article begins with a brief review of the literature on internationalization and higher education in Canada. The rationale for using a case-study methodology is presented, along with the background and context of the case. Following an outline of the research methods, the study results are reviewed to show the complex and contradictory ways in which this internationalization initiative played out in one higher education setting, pointing to the gap between official discourses of internationalization and on-the-ground realities. Resume Connue sous l’appellation « North Goes South » (Le Nord va au Sud), cette etude de cas concernant l’initiative d’internationalisation d’une universite en particulier fournit une comprehension nuancee et finement detaillee de ce a quoi ressemble l’internationalisation dans la pratique. L’etude a ete guidee par un desir de sonder l’effet percu d’une initiative d’internationalisation canadienne-est-africaine sur les etudiants, le corps professoral et les membres de la communaute tanzanienne. L’article debute par une breve recension des ecrits sur l’internationalisation et l’enseignement superieur au Canada. Nous y justifions l’utilisation d’une methodologie d’etude de cas et y presentons le fond et le contexte du cas en question. Nous dessinons ensuite les methodes de recherche et examinons les resultats de l’etude afin de reveler les manieres complexes et contradictoires de concretisation de cette initiative d’internationalisation dans un cadre d’enseignement superieur, soulignant ainsi l’ecart existant entre les discours officiels d’internationalisation et les realites sur le terrain.

We are reaching a point in history when the generation who experienced the Holocaust as survivors, witnesses or exiles will soon disappear. What happens to our relationship to such a momentous event in global history when our living connection with such a past is broken? To answer this question, this article will explore recent French representations of the Holocaust through the comic book. It will approach such representations from the perspective of the grandchildren of those who were affected by the Holocaust, perhaps the last generation to have personal ties to this wartime past. It will focus specifically on Jeremie Dres’s Nous n’irons pas voir Auschwitz (2011), translated as We Won’t Go and See Auschwitz. As a “third generation” narrative, Dres’s work is attentive to stories of Jewish exile and loss to be found on the margins of Holocaust histories. This perspective translates into an openness towards transnational histories of the Holocaust; a recognition of place as a substitute for living memory and an awareness of comics’ potential to innovate in the transmission of Holocaust memories. Ultimately, this article will argue that the contemporary comic book acts as a privileged vehicle of remembrance, indicative of the reordering of Holocaust representations in an age of cultural memory.

In this paper, I try to show how epagōgē is related to the actions of nous, and furthermore to the kind of calculative (λογιστικὴ) or deliberative (βουλευτικὴ) phantasia analysed by Aristotle in De Anima. By examining the role, whichAristotle attaches to the epagōgē, nous and phantasia, I conclude that the Stagerite philosopher didn’t mean to identify epagōgē merely to a process of systematic correlation of the empirical facts. Experience finds its deserved place inAristotle’s epistemological system, but it is the mind’s actions that lead us to discover the new and the novel. Among them phantasia has a distinguished constructive role. Aristotle in his logical treatises describes the classic theory of syllogismōs and the less systematic theory of epagōgē. Transcribing, however, the argument from the field of logic to one of the epistemic process within Aristotle’s philosophy, I argue that in the light of De Anima, and specifically at those points where the philosopher mentions the power of the mind to imagine and infer, Aristotle’s model of knowledge is better explained, and the epistemic character that the philosopher attributed to the meaning of epagōgē, nous and phantasia is demonstrated in a more complete way.

This article begins by tracking how the delineation of "New Cinema" in the recent work of Manthia Diawara differs significantly from the approaches that had been dominant when he published his initial study on African cinema in 1992. The changes lead us to position current filmmaking practices vis-a-vis Nollywood film, and to ask how the formation of the cinematic subject functions in contemporary "new waves" of cinema. Resume: Cet article commence en reperant, dans le travail recent de Manthia Dia- wara, comment la demarcation du "nouveau cinema" differe considerablement des approches qui avaient ete dominantes lorsque son etude initiale sur le cinema africain a ete publiee en 1992. Les changements nous menent a positionner les pratiques cine- matographiques actuelles vis-a-vis le cinema Nollywood, et a se demander comment la formation des sujets cinematiques fonctionne dans les "nouvelles vagues" con- temporaines de cinema.

L’absence de la parole s’y manifeste par les stereotypies d’un discours ou le sujet, peut-on dire, est parle plutot qu’il ne parle.—Jacques LacanNous voulons vivre dans l’idee des autres d’une vie imaginaire, et nous nous efforcons pour cela de paraitre. Nous travaillons incessamment a embellir et conserver notre etre imaginaire et negligeons le veritable…. Grande marque du neant de notre propre etre, … d’echanger souvent l’un pour l’autre.—Blaise PascalMuch contemporary academic writing is characterised by the abnormally high frequency and distinctly unidiomatic collocational range of the word gaze. This essay sees the root of the phenomenon in translation, more specifically in the canonical renderings to which Anglophone academics owe their acquaintance with the ideas of Sartre, Merleau-Ponty, Foucault and Lacan. Where the word regard, used fluently and colloquially in the great philosophical texts of the late twentieth century, was merely one element of a whole, complex conceptual field, the translator...

My paper is an inquiry into the political significance of Aristotle’s concept of scholê, a word usually translated as ‘leisure.’ The words ‘school’ and ‘scholar’ are derived from scholê, which indicates a richness of meanings that go far beyond anything suggested by the word “leisure.”Perhaps taking up the subject as a political issue seems untimely during this troubled period of economic crisis. And yet, if seen from the perspective in which it was first raised, that is as a response to the question put forth by Socrates—‘what type of life is worth living?’—then inquiry into its nature may help us entertain the possibility that our economic and social ills have arisen from wrong answers that we have given to the Socratic question.Before examining Aristotle’s thoughts on leisure, I will first briefly turn to Plato’s concept of scholê so as to economically bring to the fore the difficulties involved when leisure is projected unto an entire republic as an overarching aim of public life.

L'ecrivain est un sorcier parce quit vit l'animal comme la seule population devant laquelle it est responsable en droit. --Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, Mille Plateaux If I could add an image to the collection of paintings and drawings that Derrida chose for the exhibit Memoires d'aveugle: L'autoportrait et autres ruines that he curated at the Louvre in 1991, it would have been the painting of Balthus, Le chat au miroir I. Of course, this is a desire or a whim that appears "after the fact" since, as you have probably already guessed, what makes me believe that this image is a perfect self-portrait of Derrida (and especially of his acknowledged blindness) is the famous scene he describes in his 2006 book, L'animal que donc je suis. While in summary this scene may seem simple and just loosely analogous to Balthus's painting--"Derrida is seen naked in his bathroom or bedroom by a cat"--one of my claims in this essay is that, if we follow the development of the scene as Derrida describes it (and take into consideration not only this book, but also all of his work), the painting and the scene are the same. In other words, they contain the same elements and positions, and thus the same possibilities for thought and reflection. As we know, the scene starts with just two elements or subjects: Derrida and a cat. Nevertheless, as the text progresses, two new elements are introduced: a mirror and a woman. Derrida explains how the introduction of these elements modifies the autobiographical scene, and how these new elements affect the scene precisely in its auto-biographical character, that is to say, by modifying the (life of the) self or autos that is being depicted. What is more, this modification, for him, is not just an addition. Rather, it is precisely with the introduction of the woman and the mirror that the autobiography really begins. Through this addition, the author has begun not only to question his own gender ("une autobiographie consequente ne peut pas ne pas toucher a cette assurance du 'je suis un homme,' 'je suis une femme,' je suis une femme qui est aussi un homme"), but also, through this "accident," has come to question his own number, that is to say, his limits with other creatures, and with them, our own limits, the limits of "us," unmentioned but implied participants, spectators of the scene: "L'autre fatalite d'un accident (mais est-ce qu'un accident?), c'est alors, outre la presence d'une femme, la presence d'une psyche dans la piece. Nous ne savons plus combien nous sommes, alors, tous et toutes. Et je tiens que l'autobiographie a commence la. Que m'arrive-t-il chaque fois que je vois un animal dans une piece ou se trouve un miroir?" (L'animal 86, emph. Derrida's). "We do not know anymore how many we are, then, all of us (males), and all of us (females)." (1) In order to understand this indetermination brought by the addition of a mirror and a woman to the scene, let us follow for a moment the different threads that this image, "a woman and a mirror," carries. These threads intertwine not only L'animal que done je suis and Balthus's paintings, but also a long European tradition and way of thinking and perceiving. As Virginie Monnier explains in her description of Le chat au miroir I, The theme of the woman with a mirror is recurrent in European painting since the Middle Ages. Balthus himself treated it as early as 1944 [...] and on several occasions [...] thus joining the long tradition of painters fascinated by the theme and its many allegorical meanings. One of the very oldest of its representations is probably that of "The Great Prostitute" of Saint John's Apocalypse, where the mirror appears as the symbol of lust, vanity and falsehood, as opposed to the mirrors of wisdom and knowledge of which the late Middle Ages were also fond. Beginning with the Renaissance, the mirror reflects the beauty of nature and communicates neo-Platonic ideals. But in becoming secular, Jean Clair wrote, the theme "was to assume an uncanny gravity," the painter seeing in it "the exaltation of a glorious flesh, melancholy in its awareness of being vulnerable" and thus "the very image of his art, the fleeting reflection of the immutable, pure world of beauty. …

Most discussions about collectors of folk art focus on financial issues, examining what makes an object valuable and worth collecting. But financial gain is not the primary motivation of all collectors. When it comes to folk art associated with heritage, collectors are driven by a desire to connect to a past. Often this is a past with which the collectors themselves had no direct contact, but one which they feel they need to understand in order to make sense of their own identity. Folk art objects make the past tangible; they allow a physical link to something that needs to be grasped to be understood. Peter Orshinsky and Leonard Krawchuk are two important collectors of Ukrainian folk art. Their lives provide instructive case studies that help us understand heritage collecting. Resume La plupart des travaux sur les collectionneurs d'art populaire sont focalises sur les problemes financiers; on y etudie ce qui rend un objet precieux et digne d'etre acquis. Mais le profit n'est pas la motivation principale des collectionneurs. Quand il s'agit d'art populaire associe a un patrimoine, c'est plutot le desir de se connecter a un passe qui les y pousse. Il n'y a souvent rien de commun entre eux et ce passe, mais ils eprouvent le besoin de le comprendre afin de donner du sens a leur propre identite. Les objets d'art populaire donnent au passe une realite que Ton peut toucher, ils permettent d'avoir un lien physique avec quelque chose que l'on doit saisir pour le comprendre. Peter Orshinsky et Leonard Krawchuk sont deux collectionneurs importants d'art populaire ukrainien. Leur vie nous fournit une etude de cas fort instructive qui nous aide a comprendre l'acquisition d'objets patrimoniaux. ********** PREVIOUS STUDIES OF COLLECTORS AND COLLECTING What turns a person into a collector? Why would someone try to assemble examples of traditional folk costumes from every region of Ukraine? Why would a person travel miles and miles, dig through junk piles, and endure hardships to find and preserve old objects? Why would one spend money on objects that are essentially useless, such as clothes that can no longer be worn or tools from a bygone era that have been replaced by machinery? One reason is money. The older an object, the more likely it is to be rare and, therefore, valuable. Perhaps the most extreme example of collecting objects on the basis of limited availability and primarily for the sake of money was the Beanie Baby craze of the 1990s. Ty Inc. made soft toys stuffed with pellets (the beans after which the toys were named) instead of the usual cotton or fibre fill. The toys were appealing in and of themselves, but what made them collectors' items was the fact that they were issued in limited numbers, a strategy originally designed to keep production costs, and thus selling price, relatively low. Children destroy toys or lose them and the fact that certain Beanie Babies went out of production led to the belief that, as the numbers of a particular toy type became smaller and smaller with time, the value of that toy would increase. People bought Beanie Babies, not to give them to their children, but in the anticipation of financial gain, and they kept them in pristine condition to maintain the highest possible value. So far the Beanie Babies have not increased substantially in price, but the assumption that they would and people's willingness to amass objects they were never going to actually use show that people do indeed collect for the sake of money. Money appears as an important consideration in discussions of the collection of folk art. In his book, Everyday Genius, Gary Alan Fine spends as much time talking about collectors as he does about the artists themselves. Much of the discussion that deals with collectors revolves around financial issues. It is collectors, he argues, who determine what constitutes a good work--and a valuable one. Much of Fine's emphasis is on monetary value. …

Le poème narratif intitulé L’Espill nous offre un bref passage que les éditeurs ont toujours interprété comme un emprunt au Nouveau Testament. L’origine, pourtant, est bien plus ancienne, puisque le motif dérive d’une fable de la sophistique grecque, composée par Antiphon et transmise plus tard par Stobée. La fable, bien connue des spécialistes, forme part aussi du recueil ésopique. Notre contribution présente brièvement les traits principaux de la réception de la fable au sein de deux genres, la comédie, autant grecque que latine, et la littérature néotestamentaire. Ces deux genres montrent une évolution différente des éléments caractéristiques de la fable, de façon à nous mener à la conclusion que c’est la littérature néotestamentaire qui se rapproche le plus de la fable d’Antiphon. The narrative poem entitled L’Espill presents a short passage that the scholars have always explained as a borrowing from the New Gospel. The origin of the motif is nevertheless quite older, for it goes back to a fable of the Classical sophistic that was written by Antiphon and afterwards transmitted by Stobaeus. This fable, of course well known by the scholars, was also included in the Aesopean collection. Our paper aims to present the main features of the reception of the fable in two genres, comedy -both Greek and Latin- and the New Gospel. These genres show a different evolution of the central elements of the fable, so that it leads us to the conclusion that the New Gospel is closer to the Antiphontean fable.

This last European Public Health News of 2015 focuses on solidarity. McKee reflects on the horrible events in Paris on 13 November 2015 and expresses solidarity ‘Nous sommes tous des Parisiens’. Zeegers Paget reflects on the solidarity within the public health community; Jakab expresses WHO’s support for the refugee problem in Europe. Barnhoorn summarizes our Milan 2015 conference stating that global solidarity and collaboration should be at the basis of public health. # President’s column {#article-title-2} I’m writing this column on the 14 November 2015. As I write, we know that 129 people have been killed, but it seems almost inevitable that this number will rise, with over 100 critically ill. Among the other 300 injured, many will have suffered life changing injuries, both physical and mental. How can any of us imagine what it must be like to have survived only because the person you were lying underneath stopped the bullet aimed at you? At a time like this it is incredibly difficult to find the appropriate words. Earlier today I struggled as I wrote to my closest French friends. I thought particularly of two of them, Michel Kazatchkine and Jean-Paul Moatti, as the news of the shooting was just coming in as we left the offices of the Open Society Foundation in New York last night. We had no idea of the true scale of the horror. That only became apparent when we landed this morning, in London and in Paris. In my e-mails I recalled how, almost a year ago, I and my family, and people from many nationalities, stood in silence in a town square in France to commemorate those who died in the Charlie Hebdo attacks. I also wrote on behalf of EUPHA to our colleagues in the Societe Francaise de Sante Publique (SFSP). It seems almost inevitable that …

RESUME . L’idee de ce travail a commence a germer apres le constat d’une situation apparente de demotivation de la part des professeurs et des eleves en classe de FLE, tout simplement parce qu’il n’y a pas cette part de plaisir. On a essaye donc de proposer cet outil permettant a la fois de motiver les apprenants, changer les methodes basees sur l’oralite et favoriser l’enseignement du francais langue etrangere. En effectuant ce travail, nous avons cherche a comprendre la realite, la pertinence, les enjeux et les perspectives de l’utilisation du support filmique en classe de langue. De maniere plus precise, nous nous sommes interesses a l’impact de celui-ci en classe de francais langue etrangere. A fin de pouvoir realiser cette recherche, nous avons mene notre enquete aupres d’un public d’enseignants et d’apprenants au niveau des directions provinciales de Meknes et de Sidi-Kacem. Mots-cles : cinema, competence linguistique et culturelle, motivation, gestes professionnels, transposition didactique. ABSTRACT. The idea of this work began to germinate after the observation of an apparent situation of demotivation on the part of teachers and pupils in the class of teaching French as a Foreign Language, simply because there is no such great deal of pleasure in learning. Thus, we have attempted to propose cinema as a tool to motivate learners, change methods based on orality, as well as to promote the teaching of French as a foreign language. In carrying out this work, we sought to understand the reality, the pertinence, the challenges and the perspectives of the use of filmic support in language classe. We were, more precisely interested in the impact of the latter one in the class of French as a foreign language. In order to execute this research, we conducted our survey with a public of teachers and learners at the level of Meknes and Sidi-Kacem. Keywords: Cinema, linguistic and cultural competence, motivation, professional gestures, Didactic transposition.

Cet article analyse la position religieuse du lettré Annibal Caro durant les années de sa plus intense activité comique-burlesque : la période pré-tridentine de 1536 à 1543, où il composa des proses paradoxales à la manière de Berni, et son unique comédie, conçue à la demande du duc Pier Luigi Farnèse. Caro n’autorisa pas, de son vivant, la représentation de celle-ci, et la comédie ne fut publiée que de manière posthume. Nous verrons que, bien que les sentiments religieux de Caro n’aient jamais suscité de soupçons d’hétérodoxie, ce furent des influences érasmiennes, ainsi que des suggestions venues de Boccace et de l’Arétin, qui lui permirent d’élaborer un style discursif masquant sa polémique contre les faiblesses morales de l’Église., This article considers Annibal Caro’s religious sentiments during the years of his most intense comic and paradoxical production: the pre-Tridentine period from 1536 to 1543, a time of tense expectation in Rome for significant Church reform. Although Caro’s religious beliefs never raised suspicions of heterodoxy, we shall see that both his paradoxical prose in Berni’s style, and his only comedy (which he conceived at the request of the Duke Pier Luigi Farnese but was never authorised by Caro to be represented or published in his lifetime), show that Erasmian influences and suggestions from Boccaccio and Aretino allowed him to safely engage in a discourse of religious dissent.

In my paper, I will give an overview of the readings of nous poietikos, the active intellect from De Anima. Sadly, Aristotle describes it in a cryptic way, which resulted in many different theories. I will order them by introducing a division into “mystical” and “rational”. The mystical ones are rooted in a view that nous poietikos does not belong to particular human beings, but is identical with Deity or a divine sphere. According to the rational readings it is our cognitive tool and through its activity we can learn about the Deity and emulate it. The mystics are: Eudemus, Avicenna, Averroes, from the newer philosophers E. Zeller and from the contemporary ones – V. Caston. The rationalists are: Theophrastus, Thomas Aquinas, the XIXth century Aristotelian revival and from the contemporary thinkers – A. Kosman.

In this paper, I shall try to give a description of how St Maximus the Confessor (580–662), one of the most influential orthodox theologians of the early Byzantine mystical tradition, conceives of an immediate experience of God. My presentation and analysis will rely especially on the Confessor’s early spiritual works: the Centuries on Love (Keφάλαια πeρὶ ἀγάπης, Capita de charitate, before 626), the Ascetic Life (Λόγoς ἀσkητιkός, Liber asceticus, before 626) and the Exposition of the Lord’s Prayer (Eἰς τὴν πρoσeυχὴν τoῦ Πάτeρ ἡμῶν ἑρμηνeία σύντoμoς, Orationis dominicae brevis expositio, 628–630), all of them written early in Maximus’ early career, when he was a monk in his forties, first, probably, in the Jerusalem area, then—fleeing the Persian attack on the Byzantine Empire—in the Byzantine province of Africa.

One of the most pressing issues of interest to the partisans of international social and political documentary is the current state of food production and the effects of industrialized agriculture on human health and safety, rural life and biodiversity. A significant and growing subset of political documentaries critiquing the food system are gaining increased audiences, crossing media platforms and influencing public opinion and behavior. French filmmakers and activists have made important contributions to these debates and their implications in France. This article focuses on three recent films, Herbe/Grass (Mathieu Levain and Olivier Porte, 2009), Nos enfants nous accuseront/Our Children Will Accuse Us (Jean-Paul Jaud, 2009) and Republique de la malbouffe/Republic of Bad Food (Jacques Goldstein, 2012), all of which take up these issues from various angles. In addition to pointing out the problems inherent in specific agricultural practices in France, these films also make important new contributions to...

The first years of Gaskiya ta fi Kwabo , the oldest Hausa newspaper, have recently been made available online for research. They provide a sometimes idiosyncratic perspective on the Second World War. Resume: Recemment, les premiers numeros de Gaskiya ta fi Kwabo , le journal Hausa le plus ancien, sont disponibles sur Internet. Leur lecture nous donne une perspective parfois idiosyncratique de la Deuxieme Guerre Mondiale.

In one of the unpublished parts of his manuscript titled the Spicilegia, Arthur Schopenhauer presents an uncharacteristically sympathetic reading of an Aristotelian text. The text in question, De anima III. 5, happens to include the only occurrence of arguably the most controversial idea in Aristotle, namely the distinction between active and passive nous. Schopenhauer interprets these two notions as corresponding to his own notions of the ‘will’ and the ‘intellect’ or ‘subject of knowledge’, respectively. The result is a unique interpretation, according to which Aristotle's active nous is in fact non-intellectual: it is devoid of any interaction with intelligible objects, and hence lacks any intellectual activity. I show that this interpretation, though counterintuitive, is tenable, and that it may contribute to our understanding of Aristotle even if we do not adopt Schopenhauer's metaphysics.

The figure of the champion is a constant of the written press in France. Arecurring feature of the sports columns, it cannot, however, be comprehendedexclusively through the medium of sporting results. The diversityof the forms of analysis inspired by the champion underscores the readinessof editors to lend wider significance to that which may appear at firstblush to be simply a performance or feat. This article examines the formsinvolved in this process and the societal role of the champion in a periodwhen sport in France took on new significance. The Communist pressplayed a particular role in orchestrating the visibility of sport and theportrayal of the champion. The range of publications the Communist pressoffered by means of a general news publication (L’Humanite), a sportspecificpaper (Miroir Sprint), and a publication aimed at a youngeraudience (Nous les garcons et les filles), generated a unique spectrum ofanalysis. These outlets used sport as a discursive apparatus with a politicalfunction. As the...

In La 628-E8 (1907), Octave Mirbeau, a master of iconoclastic, decadent novels such as Le Jardin des supplices (1899), recounts his fantastic experiences zipping around Europe in an early automobile. Witnessing mountains disappearing into seas, landscapes of infinite shapes and contrasting colors blurring into the changing skies, the author's own vision of the world around him begins to transform. The vehicle known by its license plate number 628-E8 not only transports its passengers to new and captivating lands, "elle nous mene aussi a travers des moeurs cachees, des idees en travail, a travers de l'histoire, notre histoire vivante d'aujourd'hui" (39). The narrator's passion for speed and dynamism are certainly parallel to Futurism. Published one year before Filippo Marinetti's La Ville charnelle, this early example of autofiction disassembles stagnant conventions. Fixed beliefs disappear out of the exhaust pipe as the car hurdles into the future. The modern automobile, coupled with other new technologies such as "cinematography, radiography, telephony, electricity, and the technologies of speed," contributed to a "technologically mediated crisis of the senses" (Danius 1-2). A product of this period of technological progress and artistic innovation, this disjointed and non-linear autobiographical novel reveals new understandings of both time and space. However, the experience of zooming by various towns and viewing landscapes in rapid flashes could be considered aberrant or even insane. Mirbeau calls automobile travel a mental illness that impacts both the mind and body. L'automobilisme est donc une maladie, une maladie mentale. Et cette maladie s'appelle d'un nom tres joli: la vitesse ... Non pas la vitesse mecanique qui emporte la machine sur les routes, a travers pays et pays, mais la vitesse, en quelque sorte nevropathique, qui emporte l'homme a travers toutes ses actions et ses distractions ... (54-55) According to Mirbeau, "la vitesse" has a double sense because it can apply to the speed of the vehicle as well as the movement of the passenger's mental processes and behavior. This dangerous illness has the power to radically transform perception. Driving at high speeds engenders a sort of cultural amnesia, during which the passenger forgets the moral, aesthetic, and literary values of his culture of origin and is able to see life with new eyes. In recent years, Mirbeau's oeuvre has been opening new avenues for critical study. L'Europe en automobile: Octave Mirbeau, ecrivain voyageur, a collection of essays edited by Guy Ducrey and Eleonore Reverzy in 2009, considers La 628-28 as a literal vehicle for cultural transformation. As essays by Aleksandra Gruzinska, Sandor Kalai, and Yannick Lemarie uncover, Mirbeau's travels dispel cultural prejudices and create a fragmented aesthetic similar to Impressionism and early cinema. However, scholarship has not focused on the sensation of madness that the narrator experiences during his mind-altering travels. This paper will investigate the impact of automobile travel on one's physical and mental state in La 628-E8 and its connection to insanity and artistic genius. Cary Wolfe claims that the field of posthumanism "names the embodiment and embeddedness of the human being in not just its biological but also its technological world," and destabilizes supposed universal views (xv). I argue that La 628-E8 is an early example of posthumanistic fiction that blurs the boundaries between madman and machine as well as those between technology and text, thus contributing to a revolutionary aesthetic that is emblematic of the modern era. A HISTORY OF THE AUTOMOBILE AND NEUROLOGICAL TRAUMA From early on in its invention, the automobile has been associated with psychosis, danger, and ecstasy. Karl Benz exhibited the first automobile to the German public in 1886, and it was also featured in the Exposition Universelle of 1889 in Paris (Georgano 16). …

A mysterious painting hangs in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. Painted in 1887, Paul Gauguin’s masterpiece “D’ou venons nous? Que sommes nous? Ou allons nous?” is fi lled with enigmatic women, lurking creatures, and brooding color. “Where do we come from? Who are we? Where are we going?” The editor of Crisis has posed some similar if narrower questions to us: How are suicide research and prevention to be perceived today? What has been achieved? What is missing? What remains to be done? What can never be done? The authors of this paper are all clinicians. We come from the background of general psychiatry and clinical psychology. All of us are psychoanalysts, and committed to treatment of suicidal patients. Suicidology, as refl ected by what is published in the major journals, has changed over the years. While something has clearly been gained by an increasing emphasis on empirical research, something also has been lost. It is with this lens, and a wish to correct this imbalance, that we have agreed to offer a comment on the state of our fi eld. Suicide studies expanded rapidly after the establishment of the Los Angeles Suicide Prevention Center in 1958. There are now three active print journals concerned with suicide studies and one on-line journal. Many of the articles published in the 1960s dealt with suicide risk assessment, and to a lesser extent, this trend continues today. A survey of the different sorts of papers now being published refl ects an expanding number of topics and interests. Whereas in the 1960s publications emphasized suicide prevention, now we have more and more articles dealing with broader classes of patients of different types. The populations described have changed. Some years ago the emphasis was on psychiatric and other clinical phenomena, drawn mostly from the US. It is now quite usual to fi nd population reports from around the world. Each type of research into aspects of suicide makes its own contribution, but what interests one group of readers differs radically from what commands the attention of others.

Resume : Cet article examine deux films peu connus du sous-genre constitue par les films sur les tueurs en serie dans lesquels l'homme est assimile a un monstre. Il s'agit d'un sous-genre generalement explicite qui a connu un gain de popularite important a partir des annees 1990. Les deux films, The Minus Man (1999) realise par Hampton Fancher et Dahmer (2002) realise par David Jacobson, entrainent le genre dans une spirale interne, en explorant l'absence de desir et de sensibilite du tueur. Ils procedent a une demystification radicale du sous-genre et evitent le sensationnalisme qui lui est associe, en faisant en sorte que notre attitude envers le tueur reste neutre et indifferente, avec pour effet troublant de diminuer la distance qui nous separe a priori de lui. Dans le film de Fancher, qui est l'adaptation a l'ecran d'un livre, le personnage principal, Vann (Owen Wilson), est l'incarnation meme du signe « moins » dans son neant d'indifference et de destruction gratuite; il tue par absence de desir, en fait pour ne pas mourir. Dans le docudrame de Jacobson, Dahmer (Jeremy Renner) tue pour controler par le vide, en essayant d'eliminer l'humain en tant que completude de sens et de desir. En assassinant dans cette quete futile pour donner un sens a leurs vies, ces tueurs en serie rejettent, sous la forme d'une accusation, la propre quete du spectateur pour les comprendre et expliquer, par des theories populaires ou savantes, la finalite de leurs actes."You're a cipher. A zero."-imaginary cop to Vann in The Minus Man"I'm not....I don't want you."-Jeffrey Dahmer in DahmerThe last decade of the twentieth century and eleventh decade of cinema witnessed the emergence of serial-killer movies as a genre in their own right...or wrong.1 The serial killer himself varied from picture to picture, often depending on how much the movie's bloodshed spilled over into other genres, including the slasher film, the erotic thriller, the noir, and the police procedural.2 The frenzy began with the limited January 1990 U.S. release of Henry: The Portrait of a Serial Killer (John McNaughton), delayed since completion in 1986 out of concerns over its graphic violence. The decade ended with the November 1999 release of The Bone Collector (Phillip Noyce), about the hunt for a killer who removes a single shard of bone from each of his victims, and the Christmas Day debut of The Talented Mr. Ripley (Anthony Minghella), from Patricia Highsmith's thriller about an American impersonating and murdering others during his travels in Italy.As Jorg Waltje argues, the serial killer (coined as a term in the mid-1970s),3 with his compulsion and repetition, feeds perfectly into mainstream capitalist filmmaking's reliance on viewers returning to a genre and predilection for sequels; the figures of the vampire and the serial killer may reflect the addictiveness and compulsion that capitalism wishes to inspire in us as lusting consumers.4 Narratively and thematically, though, the serial-killer movie is usually about an overwhelming presence-of evil, of fiendish violence, of insanity, of roving bloodlust, of chaos-that reveals an overwhelming absence-of good, of God, of reason, of calm, of order-in a world where human individuality is grotesquely distorted by the infamous, single-minded killer or by the horribly dissected victim. What is usually assumed by serial-killer films but unacknowledged is masculinity, with repeated incidents of male violence solved by typically masculine reason and detection or righteous violence (from Holmes in literature to Dirty Harry in film). These tales mutate into a madly, monstrously violent, misogynistic, and patterned masculinity, which can be read and resolved by the usually male officers, profilers, and pattern-analysts (Dexter Morgan of Showtime's Dexter is both vigilante killer by night and blood-spatter analyst by day).5 The vast majority of serial killers in real life, and so too in reel life, are male, and in sociological and cultural studies of the serial killer, which also proliferated in the '90s, this violence-marked gender bias has been much discussed. …

This paper documents the exclusion from formal assistance of 43 Bangladeshi ultra-poor female heads of household, which forces women to rely on overstretched forms of informal assistance that are not culturally prescribed and are often experienced as shameful. Experiences of helplessness reinforced by dominant views of the ultra-poor as going nowhere discourage women from seeking out formal assistance. In order to overcome the effects of being deemed “beyond reach”, scholars and providers of aid must attend to persistent forms of neglect and exclusion in formal aid programmes, including the false assumption that the ultra-poor easily access prescribed informal social supports. « Personne ne nous vient en aide » : points de vue de femmes bangladaises ultra-pauvres sur le fait qu'elles sont « hors de portee » Cet article documente l'exclusion de toute assistance formelle de 43 Bangladaises chefs de famille ultra-pauvres, exclusion qui contraint ces femmes a dependre de formes d'assistance informelle deja in...

"Know that I am Massinassa, king of the Maesuli, and since I believe that this land will fall to my lot, I should be loth to sack and burn it. So, as God is my witness, any harm which befalls you now will be through no fault but your own."--Gian Giorgio Trissino, Sophonisba (1) "Fay had tried to get back to the Ranch--and it was just not there anymore--it had burned to the ground, nothing remained, just a charred heap of rubbish. It was so strange, so strange..... "You may jeer at me, and threaten to clear the court, but until I am gagged and half-throttled, I will shout my poor truth. I insist the world know how much I loved my Lolita, this Lolita, pale and polluted, and big with another's child, but still gray-eyed, still sooty-lashed, still auburn and almond, still Carmencita, still mine; changeons de vie, ma Carmen, allons vivre quelque part oil nous ne serons jamais separes; Ohio?"--Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita (2) The success and influence of Stephen Greenblatt's work-from Renaissance Self-Fashioning, which inaugurated the New Historicism, to his ode to the Epicurean Lucretius in the recent best-seller The Swerve-may be attributed to any number of things: the intelligence and writing talent of the author; a Yale education that gave the author a solid grounding in Renaissance texts; the application of insights from other fields, particularly anthropology, psychology, and sociology; a Marxist perspective sharpened by studying with Raymond Williams; the helpless experience of living through the Viet Nam era as a graduate student; chatty sessions at Berkeley with Foucault and De Certeau; and possibly an inordinate hatred of Harold Bloom's understanding of literature as a phenomenon isolated not only from cultural issues, but the self. For if Bloom's agon turns literature into some sort of analgesic that makes the pain of the world and the self disappear for some precious moments, Greenblatt's ego works as a sort of Salvation Army outreach program that regards literature as an education in the ills of society without quite admitting its own regimentation. One may wonder just whose libido was more repressed in 1980, that of the fictional Guyon, whose violent destruction of the Bower of Bliss (Greenblatt argues) reflected the colonial violence and dangerous desires of the English in Ireland, or the author of Renaissance Self-Fashioning, whose enormous range of interests included a stint, while he was at Cambridge, with the English, all-male boarding school cut-ups who became Monty Python's Flying Circus. In this paper I will argue that however brilliant Greenblatt's work-and I think I am second to none in the fan club-he overlooks or simply has no sympathy for Platonism. I don't think he could have written Hamlet in Purgatory otherwise, but for the most part I will confine myself first to his chapter on Spenser in Renaissance Self-Fashioning and then more briefly to The Swerve. I will first argue that Christian Platonism created the allegorical mode in which Spenser wrote, allowing a different perspective of the self than the one Greenblatt describes. I will then suggest that those Christian thinkers who rejected Lucretius and Epicureanism did so for philosophical reasons deeply grounded in Plato's thought. There are, as Whitehead said, two sets of footnotes in the history of philosophy, but both are productive and unable to cancel the other. In what I will openly admit is a paean to my great teacher at the University of Chicago who is retiring this year, I would like to argue that of three books published in 1980--Greenblatt's Renaissance Self-Fashion, Fredrick Jameson's Political Unconscious, and Michael Murrin's The Allegorical Epic--that it is the third, far less well-known book--and its theoretical prelude, The Veil of Allegory--that can best help us understand what Guyon was doing when he burned the banquet houses of the Bower of Bliss. For Greenblatt seems not to recognize the extent to which Spenser is separated from Guyon, because he does not take into account the dichotomy between events as they transpire "on the ground," as today's political writers like to say, and events that are mere, imperfect, fleeting glimpses of an unknowable ideal. …

The medieval Christian pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela gives spatial, temporal, and thematic structure to Coline Serreau's 2005 movie and novel, Saint-Jacques ... La Mecque, inviting us to look across time and connect the modern pilgrimage experience to its eleven-hundred-year-old predecessor. (1) Given the cultural significance that the pilgrimage encompasses, Serreau cannot have chosen it lightly to serve as the setting for this intriguing work in which nine modern pilgrims walk from Le Puy to Santiago. In this essay, I propose to show how Serreau effectively uses the framework of medieval pilgrimage to shed new light and perspective on issues in contemporary French society such as ethnicity, religion, and sexism, and then offers a vision of how these issues might be addressed. The history of the pilgrimage to Santiago spans more than a thousand years. According to legend, St. James, one of the original twelve apostles, had preached the Gospel in the Iberian Peninsula. He was subsequently martyred and his body was buried and forgotten in Galicia. His remains were discovered in the early ninth century and the city of Santiago de Compostela was founded on the site. Soon afterward, people from every corner of Europe began travelling to the Apostle's burial site. Though a few pilgrims to Compostela are recorded in the tenth century, and many more in the eleventh, it was in the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries that Santiago de Compostela came to rank with Rome and Jerusalem as one of the great destinations of Christian pilgrimage. Even then, the pilgrimage was a model of cultural diversity, as people of varied origins intermingled on their way to Compostela. Beginning with the Renaissance, participation in the pilgrimage declined drastically. The route has undergone a revival in the last three decades, not only in Spain but in France, Germany, and other parts of Europe as well. The route was named Europe's Premier Cultural Itinerary in 1987, and UNESCO has since classified the routes in France and Spain as a World Heritage Site, attesting to the pilgrimage's worldwide cultural, historical, and artistic importance (Gardner, Mentley, and Signori 46). Recent literary and cinematic depictions of the modern pilgrimage to Santiago have portrayed travellers of all ages and genders making the trek. The 2010 film The Way, directed by Emilio Estevez and starring Martin Sheen, is another example of how this pilgrimage is making its way into mainstream culture. (2) Best known for her 1985 international blockbuster Trois hommes et un couffin, Coline Serreau's other critically acclaimed films include the documentary "Mais quest-ce qu'elles veulent?," Romuald et Juliette, and Chaos. (3) Her most recent film, also a documentary, is titled Solutions locales pour un desordre global. Serreau has been labelled by a number of critics as a feminist filmmaker; nevertheless, believing that the term cinema feminin is reductive (Coll 1288), she rejects that label (Rollet, "Women" 89). (4) In her cinema, Serreau seems to follow the mindset of Jeanne Labrune: "Il n'y a pas de film de femme et de film d'homme. En chacun de nous, il y a une part de masculine et de feminine; ce qui compte en fait, c'est l'acte de creation, aussi bien pour les hommes que pour les femmes" (Coll 1288). This corresponds to Carrie Tarr's observation that "French women directors characteristically disclaim their gender as a significant factor in their filmmaking" (Tarr and Rollet 1). Curiously, most of the critical analysis on Serreau focuses on her works prior to the year 2000. As Ginette Vincendeau stated in 1994, it is as if Serreau's "moving out of the ghetto of women's cinema into popular comedy has almost erased her from the critical map (even recent works on French cinema give her the most perfunctory treatment)" (26). Eighteen years later, this remains a valid statement. Only one book-length study is dedicated solely to her work (Rollet's Coline Serreau), and only a handful of academic articles are devoted to Serreau criticism. …

Writing for four hands or more is gaining ground in contemporary academia, including in the humanities where it is still far less the norm than in the sciences, and with the current interest in cross-discipline research, chalk-and-cheese partnerships of all kinds are appearing. In the creative arts and in particular literature, the special status of the singular (in both senses of the word) author continues to command respect – and nowhere more so than in poetry –despite being under attack from textual practices derived from intertextuality, translation theory and creative writing, as well as from writers actually joining forces and writing in tandem. As Lafon and Peeters noted in their 2006 enquiry into four-handed literary writing, Nous est un autre1, literary partnerships are not a recent phenomenon, but literary history has tended to brush aside their specificities – worse, their literary productions are often attributed to the better-known author, the other being simply overlooked. This is unfair to the other author, while also depriving readers and critics of valuable insights into the complex dynamics of collective creation. Letters from Iceland (1937) by W. H. Auden and Louis MacNeice2, a travel book in prose and verse, is an intriguing, paradoxical work, all the more so when we look at it from

Writing only shortly after Shakespeare’s death, Thomas Randolph (and/or his reviser F. J.) claim that the world’s most famous dramatist was motivated to write his plays by the ‘Great God of Money’. It is an assertion which would have troubled many early Shakespeare scholars, most of whom were reluctant to see Shakespeare as a commercially driven artist. Indeed, as Douglas Bruster notes, ‘for a long time, most commentators ignored the economic bases of Shakespeare’s theatre’ and when they did mention it ‘they typically portrayed it as regrettable’.2 However, as recent research on the early modern stage has made clear, the world of which Shakespeare was a part was a commercial — as well as a creative — industry; and Shakespeare’s success within it is evidence not just of his artistic talent, but of the commercial ‘nous’ of himself and his fellow players in the company with whom he worked for most of his career: the Lord Chamberlain’s (later the King’s) players.

The temporal and literary proximity of the Comte de Lautreamont (Isidore Ducasse) and Arthur Rimbaud represented a deeply synchronic episode for some of the most prominent members of the twentieth-century French avant-garde. Andre Breton described the period just before and after the Paris Commune: "poetiquement il nous impossible aujourd'hui d'apercevoir dans le passe une epoque aussi riche, aussi victorieuse, aussi revolutionnaire, aussi chargee de sens lointain," ('poetically, it is impossible for us today to take in a time so rich, so victorious, so revolutionary, so charged with distant meaning'), while his fellow traveler in surrealism Philippe Soupault noted: "Il est evident que la, il y a une constellation extraordinaire. Remarquez pourtant que, entre Rimbaud et Lautreamont d'une part, et le surrealisme une influence determinante qui a dure ensuite" ('It is obvious that there is an extraordinary constellation. Note however that, between Rimbaud and Lautreamont on one hand, and surrealism on the other, there is a decisive influence which has lasted') (Breton 225-26; Soupault 95). Yet it was perhaps the great critic of nineteenth-century modernism, Walter Benjamin, who most fully approached the particular sense of Lautreamont and Rimbaud as synchronous representations of terrorist shock: "Between 1865 and 1875 a number of great anarchists, without knowing of one another, worked on their infernal machines. And the astonishing thing is that independently of one another each set the clock at exactly the same hour, and forty years later in Western Europe the writings of Dostoyevsky, Rimbaud, and Lautreamont exploded at the same time" ("Surrealism" 53). The anarchist in late-nineteenth-century culture was as much a symbol and mythological entity as a proponent of a particular political ideology. 'Anarchy" denoted a variety of meanings: mercurial creativity, revolutionary disorder, social chaos, communitarian utopia, unstructured activity (see Arnold, Phillips 13, and Shpayer-Makov, "Anarchism" 493). The multivalence of the term allowed Benjamin to describe Lautreamont, Rimbaud, and Dostoyevsky as "great anarchists" in an encompassing way that would be inconceivable were he to label them "great communists" (53). In his correlation between anarchist terror and avant-garde poetics, Benjamin was certainly drawing attention to the violent, revolutionary associations of anarchism in order to suggest that a certain kind of literature could have the impact of an attentat, or bomb attack. If they never dealt with the contemporary theme of anarchism in their writings, all three of Benjamin's examples possessed a mordant sense of humor, were obsessed with amorality, could adopt a variety of nihilist postures, and seemed to experience anomie in a way consistent with the "anarcho-psychological critique" of society--a much broader challenge to technocratic modernity and its discontents (see Carroll). It has been readily accepted that the most prominent representations of the anarchist in late-Victorian and Edwardian literature feature the anarchist in a very specific manner and in very specific loci. The popular representation of the bomb-throwing anarchist drew its inspiration from the era of the "propaganda of the deed," when dynamite-attacks, assassinations, and political violence in continental Europe and Russia ingrained the image of the anarchist as fanatical terrorist. As one commentator notes: "During the period of 1885-1914 one Head of State or leading Minister fell every eighteen months--and most of them by the hand of anarchists" (Burton 23). In French, American, and British fiction, the anarchist was frequently of this bomb-throwing type, was of foreign origin (a political refugee or emigre from Ireland, Italy, Germany, or Russia, for example), and was committed to the destruction of the liberal state and its institutions (see Melchiori and Di Paola). While Jewish immigrants were especially singled out as anarchist supporters, a contemporary prejudice echoed in John Buchan's The Thirty-Nine Steps, the great works of fiction to feature anarchists in the period, Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent: A Simple Tale and G. …

Marcel Schwob’s Lettres parisiennes (Parisian Letters) reveal an engaged journalist who questions not only law and order, but also their perversion: “La France a ete le pays de la liberte. Encore peu d’annees, et la liberte ira se refugier ailleurs. (…) Il faut qu’on y prenne garde; ce n’est pas une Republique ou nous vivons” (France used to be the country of freedom. A few more years and liberty will seek refuge elsewhere. We must be vigilant; this is not a republic we live in) ( Lettres parisiennes 1077). But it is not only through these “depeches” that Schwob challenged established order. As literary critic and social scientist, in 1894, Schwob mockingly declared that laughter was bound to disappear. Schwob’s biologizing account of laughter reflects how the physical sciences became a lens to study social practices. His text, “Le Rire” (Laughter), presents itself as both scientific study and historical document. In “Le Rire,” Schwob satirically mobilizes the figure of archeology to articulate a questioning of artifacts and the discourses that would interpret them, as well as how inscriptions—in this case textual monuments—may relate to or make social reality. I will argue that Schwob’s “Le Rire” is a seminal text, and that his literary work, known for its extraordinary erudition, attests to a deployment of destabilizing journalistic humor where erudition, education and the new democratic orator may meet.

In his seminal work, L'ceil vivant, Jean Starobinski theorizes on how pseudonymity--the false attribution of authorship--affects a reader. He writes: "Lorsqu'un homme se masque ou se revet d'un pseud-onyme, nous nous sentons defies. Cet homme se refuse a nous. Et en revanche nous voulons savoir." (2) It is probable that Starobinski, a master at looking at the pourquoi behind writers (in this case, he is examining Stendhal), meant "readers" by "nous" in 41nous nous sentons defies" and "the author's name" by the word "savoir" in "nous voulons savoir." Starobinski gestures towards a type of miscommunication between the author's intent and the reader's desires. Specific miscommunications between readers and writers, as I see it, provide intriguing contexts to examine more general problems in literary criticism and its history. What follows is an attempt to show the unintended magnitude of Starobinski's comment on pseudonymity both in the specific context of Voltaire's 1760 staging of the play, Le cafe ou l'Ecossaise, and in larger debates in the emerging fields of anonymity, pseudonymity, and attribution studies. Voltaire's use of multiple pseudonyms before and after releasing L'Ecossaise, a comedie serieuse in which Voltaire attacks his enemy Elie-Cathdrine Freron, supports his philosophe friends at a crucial moment in history, and exemplifies his taste for serious comedy and British drama calls into question traditional takes on pseudonymity, anonymity, and attribution by refusing to fit into the binary arguments of anonymous vs. attributed, and authorial intent vs. the reader's control. As we shall see, a network of competing interests beyond Voltaire's sought to control, manipulate, and even initiate a host of discourses about the play. Over the next few pages, I will analyze the function of pseudonymity within the specificity of 1760 France--at the peak of a cultural war between philosophes and anti-philosophes, between authors or supporters of the Encyclopedic and their numerous detractors. After having underlined the individuality of L'Ecossaise, my goal is to then examine Voltaire's use of pseudonyms against the backdrop of a more contemporary debate on authorship and anonymity: the fierce disagreement between post-structuralist critics and their recent detractors over the value, and even the possibility, of attributing authorial intent to a literary work. (3) Through a careful reassessment of Michel Foucaulfs concept of attribution in "What is an Author?," I will then conclude by offering a meeting point--a place of joint critical investigation--between post-structuralist scholars, who sometimes ignore the historical specificity of literary reception, and recent attribution scholars, who sometimes determine the value of a literary work by that work's adherence to or divergence from rigid ideas of literary norms or an author's "voice" during a given, historical epoch. The study of pseudonymity as a social act--an interpersonal, often conflictual competition to lend meaning to a work between at least two people--merits just as much critical inquiry as attempts to uncover a rational reason--the authorial intent--behind pseudonymic practice. By studying pseudonymity as inherently social, scholars at present could provide a complementary angle to studies that ask: "who really wrote this text?" or "why did he or she use a pseudonym?"--studies that still fill the pages of academic journals today and that often (and in this critic's opinion, overly) simplify the complexities of a writer's various motivations and a reader's multiple processes of interpretation. In France, the middle of the eighteenth century was a tumultuous period in the Republic of Letters. Despite the early popular successes of phi losophe works like Denis Diderot and Jean le Rond d'Alemberf's Encyclopedic on dictionnaire raisonne des sciences, des arts et des metiers (1750) and Jean-Jacques Rousseau's Discours sur Torigine et les fondements de l'inegalite parmi des hommes (1754), the intellectual climate became decidedly anti-philosophique (4) during the second half of the 1750s. …

Heather Dohollau (born 1925) is the author of twelve volumes of poetry, one novel and one collection of essays, all published in French: her adoptive writing language since 1966, after she moved to France as a young woman. She belongs to the rare women poets in French since the Renaissance to have received international critical attention in the form of several book-length publications, as well as two international colloquia, one of which took place in Cerisyla-Salle, and one film, La promesse des mots. (1) Dohollau has made an important and distinctive contribution to issues central to postwar French poetry: those of place, memory, exiles and returns, poetry's dialogue with the visual arts and philosophy, formal transitionality. Her life trajectory has been marked by successive losses and exiles: having lost her mother and left Britain as a young woman, she later had to leave the small island off the north Breton coast, Brehat, where for twenty years she led an insular or semi-insular life, and where two of her daughters are buried. Yet in her poems absence, without losing its emotional charge, finds a form of redemption: "[c]e qui nous appartient ne peut etre perdu, simplement detruit". (2) Poetry can give a place and a degree of embodiment to what is no more and what could have been, not by striking elegiac chords, but by cultivating a rich and protean relation with what eludes words. In this philosophically significant endeavour, Dohollau's language change plays a crucial role. In 1966, she elected her "daughter tongue", as she calls French, as her main poetic language. This choice provided her with a liminal stance which became the foundation of her poetics. Not only is she a bilingual poet, but she has almost always lived in linguistically dual areas (Wales, Brittany). The awareness of this duality, her own language change and her practice of translation have enabled her to cultivate a certain distance, or resistance, which she calls "difficulty" in her rapport to words. Thus, Dohollau is uniquely placed to contribute to the recent reassessments of language undertaken in philosophy and translation studies. She works with, not against, the limits of language as she sets out to explore the grey areas between words and what remains inarticulated. This purpose finds expression in an epigraph where she quotes Andre du Bouchet: De cette langue a l'autre Quelquefois sera touche au passage cc qui va hors de l'une et de l'autre (3) This essay explores the different manifestations of that which goes out of languages, and the different poetic strategies deployed to let it appear within a range of texts. First, I examine what eludes words because it eludes memory, or what Dohollau calls "La source intarrissable [sic] de l'oubli". (4) I then turn to the poem's refusal of closure and the risks of that venture: the idea that "[l]e poete vit de sa mort". (5) My last two sections examine the role of the unsaid as poetic resource and its embodiment within the textual space, as areas of unprinted whiteness. Electing "un manquement comme bien", Dohollau's poetics enacts her motto: "pour garder l'impossible intact"--a fragment from La Venelle des pones which her late friend Derrida once inscribed into a book which he sent to her. (6) 1. "La source intarrissable [sic] de l'oubli" The first "manquement" I shall investigate is that of oubli. Dohollau claims a positive value for this word, identifying it as the very substance of memory in the title "Memoire d'oubli". (7) Associated with birth ("l'oubli est critere de naissance"), (8) it even becomes a source of fulfilment in lines such as "nous comblant d'oubli" and "la source/intarrissable [sic]/de l'oubli", or in the idea of "un talisman/dont le manque me reveille soudain/et me penetre d'oubli". (9) This awakening to an absence that makes itself feel present enables Dohollau to redefine oubli as a potential interface with the past. …

In the early twentieth century, a number of alternative health practices grew in popularity. The most popular of them all, especially in Ontario, was osteopathy. In the 1910s and 1920s a dynamic osteopathy profession emerged in Canada and made significant strides towards achieving professional status. In the end, professional leaders were unsuccessful, and osteopathic medicine faded into obscurity. A look at the emergence and decline of an osteopathic profession in Ontario not only sheds light on a little-studied chapter in medical history in Canada, but also enhances our understanding of professional development more broadly. Au debut du XX e siecle, un certain nombre de medecines douces gagnerent en popularite. La plus populaire dEentre toutes, surtout en Ontario, fut lEosteopathie. Durant les annees 1910 et 1920, une profession dynamique de lEosteopathie fit son apparition au Canada, sEapprochant a grands pas dEun statut professionnel. Malheureusement, les leaders de la profession echouerent et la medecine sombra lentement dans lEobscurite. Le present article sEinteresse a lEemergence et au declin de la profession dEosteopathe en Ontario, soutenant quEun examen de celle-ci nous aide non seulement a mieux comprendre ce chapitre peu etudie de lEhistoire medicale au Canada, mais egalement, en toile de fond, le developpement professionnel. IN THE EARLY 1920s, osteopathic physicians in Ontario had every reason to feel optimistic about the future of their profession in the province. Americantrained osteopaths had practised in Ontario since the turn of the twentieth century, and the profession appeared to be coming into its own. Osteopaths’ patient base was strong and growing, and they had achieved a general level of acceptance, especially in urban areas. Organized for roughly 20 years, osteopaths seemed to be making headway in their quest for government recognition and professional legislation. The courts had recognized their right to practise, and they had hopes that they would soon join their confreres in Saskatchewan, Alberta, and British Columbia, as well as others throughout

Introduction "On ne nous a pas attendu et chacun sait que la poesie s'accommode fort bien des opinions vagues ou contradictoires que l'on nourrit a son sujet." (1) Writing on the cusp of the time-frame under consideration here, Jean Paulhan was entertainingly caustic on the potential pitfalls of any attempted synoptic discourse on poetry. Yet the enduring ability of the "poetic" to function as a legitimising term is, arguably, a key to the ineradicable and essential plurality of the hypothetical object it denotes. The tendency of poetic works to accommodate and absorb differing theoretical and critical projections can appear problematic, but it highlights two important features of practice as it is encountered in those works: firstly, the way in which poetic practice seems to nurture and invite reflective responses from those engaged by and in it; secondly, the ability of practice to remain in excess of the particular readings it inspires, while deriving legitimacy and even sustenance from them. These features allow the poetic field to be seen as constituted to some extent dialogically, both between writers and their readers, and between poetic practitioners. Whether through creative interaction (thematic, theoretical, affinity-based) or at various levels of conflict and disagreement (arguably along the same criteria), recurrent instances of interconnected utterance are observable. The articles that follow have as a common feature an interest in such structuring interconnections. The functioning of the poetic field as a sui generis dialogical space is of particular interest for any attempt to think about the parameters of literary practice as a whole and of cultural practice more widely. Partly this is because poetic practice, due all at once to its economic marginality, to its necessary engagement with the figure of the limit, and to its experimental nature, has been among the most consistent modes of exploration of these parameters. Perhaps the single most important respect in which this has been the case is the fundamental problem of symbolically-mediated community. Implicit/explicit in the poetry of the last century and more, it is now a question that has--through the explosion of new media, but also the increasing diversity of subject positions/cultures/languages seeking aesthetic expression-legitimisation--become a "mainstream" preoccupation. Poetic practice, while often continuing to follow the logic of an avant-garde activity, cannot be dismissed as unrelated to pressing social-theoretical concerns. Community, in the present context, is clearly both a pre-condition of the "individual"--and the problematic horizon of the poetic question as an inherently social one. The figure of community is approached in the following articles through the works of significant creative actors, themselves constituted as poetic practitioners in their engagement with that horizon. It is approached, furthermore, as an evolving, fluid reality--in the representation of which we appeal here to two particular, dynamic figures. The first is that of confluence, whereby individual practices may provisionally be understood together, as exemplary of a common theoretical or practical principle, even as they continue to move forward in their different ways. The second is that of migration, which signifies both the ability of the poetic to move beyond (now) canonical ideas of its material and signifying properties, into new technologically-based and/or interstitial forms of practice, and the mobility of the "poetic" designation as a legitimising one towards practices and works which challenge the very understanding(s) of the poetic operative at the time of their emergence. In their discussion of individual actors and the various problems and configurations which constitute poetic practice in French today, the eight articles which make up this issue contain aspects which belong to both of these figures of confluence and migration. …

PurposeThe literary world is an elitist enclave, where anti‐marketing rhetoric is regularly encountered. This paper aims to show that the book trade has always been hard‐nosed and commercially driven.Design/methodology/approachThis paper is less a review of the literature, or a theoretical treatise, than a selective revelation of the commercial realities of the book business.FindingsThe paper shows that the cultural industries in general and the book business in particular were crucibles of marketing practice long before learned scholars started taking notice. It highlights the importance of luck, perseverance and, not least, marketing nous in the “manufacture” of international bestsellers.Research limitations/implicationsBy highlighting humankind's deep‐seated love of narrative – its clear preference for fiction over fact – this paper suggests that marketing scholars should reconsider their preferred mode of research representation. Hard facts are all very well, but they are less palatable than good stories, well told.Originality/valueThe paper makes no claim to originality. It recovers what we already know but appear to have forgotten in our non‐stop pursuit of scientific respectability.

On 29 November 1899, ten days after President Emile Loubet signed an instrument pardoning Alfred Dreyfus for a crime that no one now believed he had committed, Emile Zola shared with the readers of L'Aurore his own vision of the Dreyfus family's reunion. In an open letter to Lucie Dreyfus, Zola pictured the likely scene in the Dreyfus household: Je m'imagine la premiere soiree, sous la lampe, dans l'intimite familiale, lorsque toutes les portes sont fermees et que toutes les abominations de la rue meurent au seuil domestique. Les deux enfants sont la, le pere est revenu du lointain voyage, si long, si obscur. [...] Une douceur endort la maison close, une infinie bonte baigne de toutes parts la chambre discrete ou sourit la famille. (18: 466) Scenes of unalloyed familial bliss such as this one are, we might observe, in rather short supply in the fictional works for which Zola is most famous. In contradistinction to the bitterness of family life as depicted in his Rougon-Macquart cycle, Zola applies to this imagined family reunion an adjective that is of particular interest to me in what follows: the moment of Dreyfus's return is delicious or delightful, a "minute delicieuse." That "minute" is, moreover, "trempee de bonnes larmes"; lubricated, that is, by the unmistakable oil of nineteenth-century sentimentalism (18: 466). "Most often, where the epithet 'sentimental' [...] is brought onto the scene," writes Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, the intended meaning is "a discreditable or devalued one--the sentimental as the insincere, the manipulative, the vicarious, the morbid, the knowing, the kitschy, the arch" (143). It would take a cynical soul indeed, of course, to quarrel on such grounds with Zola's appeal to sentimental topoi in this passage of his letter to Mme Dreyfus. Over and against the clear ideological freighting of such images, their indisputable involvement, then as now, with the promotion of middle-class familialism, we must surely recognize the all too real mutilation inflicted on this particular family by ideologies arguably more pernicious, and accept the good faith of Zola's celebration of that family's ultimate, unlikely rehabilitation. And yet, if sentimentalism in the letter is defined by the domestic circle of the long-suffering Dreyfus family, it is nevertheless not confined to that privileged locus amcenus. On the contrary, the consoling warmth of Dreyfus's foyer in fact provides the model for a much larger form of national repentance and reconciliation: Votre mari [...] a tant souffert, et sans cause, [...] que nous voudrions panser d'une tendresse chacune de ses plaies. Nous sentons bien que la reparation est impossible, que jamais la societe ne pourra payer sa dette envers le martyr, [...] et c'est pourquoi nous lui elevons un autel dans nos coeurs, n'ayant a lui donner rien de plus pur ni de plus precieux que ce culte de fraternite emue. (18: 468) While we might still be reluctant to call this passage "insincere" or "manipulative," we must at the very least agree that it is both strategic and, fundamentally, political. For a start, Zola's use of an ambiguous "nous" and the subsequent invocation of "fraternite" might well permit the uninformed reader to imagine that Zola speaks for a unanimously repentant Republic, rather than for a faction of a nation whose radical division at the time of the article's publication has become legendary. And yet it is in the coupling of that grandly universal term "fraternite" with the normally particularizing adjective "emue"--a word that, along with the earlier "tendresse," I shall take in this article as a specific textual indicator that we are in the presence of the Zolian sentimental--that Zola's rhetorical strategy becomes distinctly legible. This conjugation of a republican value with a tender affect is, I would argue, revelatory of Zola's turn-of-the-century attempt to reconceive political and civic relations in sentimental terres. …

In numerous entries on his website Le Tiers livre (tierslivre.net), the French writer Francois Bon insists on the momentous nature of the transformations taking place in the contemporary literary world ("Si la litterature"; "Ceci n'est pas"; "Qu'est-ce qu'un livre numerique"). Bon argues that the advent of the Internet is equal in significance to the print revolution brought by Gutenberg. According to this view, the Web is not just one more medium among others, but in fact operates a number of crucial displacements in our modes of writing and reading and ultimately alters literary and social practices: "Internet est 'transparent', il traverse la totalite des pratiques mais en tant que lie a cette pratique elle-meme, et non pas sa mediatisation" ("Vers un Internet"). It would be a mistake to see these claims as an expression of faith in progress, on the part of an author whose works (from Sortie d'usine in 1982 to Daewoo in 2004) have documented the damage to human com- munities wrought by technological and economic change. In texts posted on Le Tiers livre between 2005 and 2011, Bon acknowledges that we are currently on unstable ground; we do not yet know precisely what new configurations of the literary object will emerge, which developments will shape the material and social field of writing and reading (electronic paper is still unconvincing, new devices and interfaces for reading can- not yet compete with the book format). Nevertheless, in accepting the inevitability of change, Bon expresses a guarded optimism regarding not only the survival of literature, but also the possibility of its renewal: "Le paradoxe d'Internet, c'est d'accepter que le livre ne soit pas le seul destin de l'ecrit, mais, nous conferant effectivite du langage sur le monde, parce qu'on va faire circuler des phrases sur un ecran, renouvelle que la langue soit encore corrosive sur le monde" ("Si la litterature"). The following pages will relate Bon's wide-reaching claims about the new digital landscape to his recent literary work, with a particular focus on the curious Web-project and novel Tumulte (2006). Bon has increas- ingly placed the Internet at the center of his literary activity. His Web- based projects, which date from 1997, span various forms and functions.