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This article investigates the metaphorical representation of child sexual abuse (CSA) in contemporary children's and young adult gothic works, focusing on the popular Series of Unfortunate Events and Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children series. It argues that because of the upsetting nature of the issue and the numerous myths surrounding it, cultural production often uses the gothic figure of the monster who preys on children to address CSA indirectly, and identifies this strategy in the above series. It reveals a distinctly sexual charge to the monsters' victimisation of the children in both sets of narratives and explores their tendency to perpetuate CSA myths such as that of the perpetrator as a monstrous stranger. In conclusion, it considers how these narratives also challenge CSA myths and offer models of resilient child survivors, and it draws on cognitive cultural theory to theorise potential reader/viewer responses. Through its metaphorical imbrication of real-world brutality and dark fantasy, the Gothic is ultimately theorised as potentially affording more scope than realist treatments for touching on issues of transgression for wider and younger audiences, and sometimes in affirmative ways that move beyond merely recirculating myths and panic.

A key text of the pre-First World War invasion fiction genre, William Le Queux’s The Invasion of 1910 (1906) is often assumed to have sold in vast quantities and provoked major controversy. This article investigates the circulation and social impact of this divisive, polemical work before and during the war to provide a more accurate account of its reception. Using Marie Corelli’s proven bestseller The Sorrows of Satan (1895) as a comparator, the article shows sales of The Invasion of 1910 were similar to other bestselling novels, though not comparable to Corelli’s phenomenal sales. Le Queux’s text, however, punched above the weight of the typical bestseller in terms of its social influence, receiving parliamentary censure, extensive newspaper coverage, wide satire and polarised reader responses. Overall, this analysis provides insight into the workings of the popular fiction industry and the nature and extent of invasion fears in the early twentieth century.

The Introduction prefaces a double special issue of Critical Survey examining the work of controversial popular author, journalist and amateur spy William Le Queux from 1880 to 1920. Known as the ‘master of mystery’, Le Queux was prominent in transmitting exaggerated fears about British national security before, during and after the First World War. The Introduction provides a historical and literary framework for the special issue and outlines its central premises: that cultural production in Le Queux’s era was intimately connected with contemporary socio-political forces; that this relationship was well understood by authors such as Le Queux, and often exploited for propagandist purposes; and that the resulting literary efforts were sometimes successful in influencing public opinion. The Introduction also outlines the overall finding that Le Queux’s work tended to distort his subject matter, misinform his readership, and blur the lines between fact and fiction in pursuit of his defencist agenda.

In the late-nineteenth century the origins of the modern concept of child sexual abuse (CSA) started to emerge in a set of intersecting medical and legal theories concerning the notion of sexual harm to children, especially in the new science of sexology. The concept was also shaped in sensational journalism and popular fiction which dramatically exploited the medico-legal theories in works that reached a wide audience. Within this set of overlapping discourses, this article identifies the developing characterisation of the abuser, or ‘paedophile’, as an outsider or stranger in order to provide distance from the uncomfortable reality that CSA is typically perpetrated by family members or others well known to the victims. The article also argues that much writing about sexual harm to children, including the factual treatments, often drew on the dark metaphors of gothic writing to avoid addressing this difficult subject explicitly. In this way the figure of the monster came to stand in for the perpetrator of sexual crimes against children, with the result that the paedophile was portrayed not just as a social outsider, but as a monstrous stranger – creating a persistent, detrimental myth which kept social attention away from the most common types of abuse. Royal Irish Academy (RIA) 2021-04-08 JG: Unpublished when uploaded -- double-check citation info and issue date on check date; DOI; set -text.

Striking popular culture images of burnt landscapes, tidal waves and ice-bound cities have the potential to dramatically and emotively convey the dangers of climate change. Given that a significant number of people derive a substantial proportion of their information on the threat of climate change, or the “new human condition”, from popular culture works such as catastrophe movies, it is important that an investigation into the nature of the representations produced be embedded in the attempt to address the issue. What climate change-related messages may be encoded in popular films, television and novels, how are they being received, and what effects may they have? This article adopts the cultural studies perspective that popular culture gives us an important means by which to access the “structures of feeling” that characterise a society at a particular historic juncture: the views held and emotional states experienced by significant amounts of people as evident in disparate forms of cultural production. It further adopts the related viewpoint that popular culture has an effect upon the society in which it is consumed, as well as reflecting that society's desires and concerns – although the nature of the effect may be difficult to quantify. From this position, the article puts forward a theory on the role of ecological catastrophe narratives in current popular culture, before going on to review existing critical work on ecologically-charged popular films and novels which attempts to assess their effects on their audiences. It also suggests areas for future research, such as the prevalent but little studied theme of natural and environmental disaster in late-Victorian science fiction writing. This latter area is of interest because it reveals the emergence of an ecological awareness or structure of feeling as early as the late-nineteenth century, and allows the relationship of this development to environmental policy making to be investigated because of the historical timeframe. Effectively communicating the threat of climate change and the need to address it, reframing the perspective from a detached and scientifically-articulated problem to one of a human condition – immediate and personal – is on one level a task of narrative, or story-telling, and cultural studies has an important role to play in this and in elucidating the challenges involved. In line with the remit of the special issue in which this article appears, it is written as a review article specifically addressing the question of what cultural studies can contribute to helping to articulate the ‘new human condition’ of existence under climate change. As such, it offers some initial preliminary readings of popular culture trends, outlines a potential methodology, briefly summarises some effective work already done in the area and suggests further potential avenues of enquiry.

The effects of nonconsensual first experiences of sexual intercourse in women are understudied. This was investigated in 3,875 adult women of whom 6.7% reported “persuaded” first-sex and 0.8% reported forced first-sex. Compared with willing first-sex, both forced and “persuaded” first-sex occurred earlier, involved a greater age difference between partners, and were associated with more lifetime sexual partners and some measures of worse psychological well-being. In addition, “persuaded” first-sex was associated with worse general physical health. “Persuaded” first-sex and its relation to health need to be better understood, along with how culture influences women’s experiences of first-sex.

This article introduces readers to the fiction of invasion, a paranoid literary phenomenon that responded to widespread social concerns about the possible invasion of Britain by an array of hostile foreign forces in the period between 1870 and 1914. It begins with an overview of the development of this relatively unknown body of work in the late-Victorian and Edwardian periods, charting assumptions of imminent large-scale war, fascination with the technology of warfare and the marked participation of military men who used the fiction to agitate for increased defence spending. While this alarmist brand of popular fiction provoked considerable contemporary commentary, modern critical engagement with it has been somewhat limited. Beginning in the 1960s and dominated by the work of the master bibliographer I. F. Clarke, the initial scholarly response necessarily took the form of classification and survey and evinced particular interest in adjudging the accuracy of fictional predictions about future war. More recent scholarship is concerned with reading the fiction in the context of its own times, probing its relationship with external imperial factors and internal domestic concerns and its effectiveness as a propaganda tool. In addition to offering an overview of this line of enquiry, this article seeks to broaden the understanding of the invasion narrative in fin-de-siecle popular fiction, drawing lines out to the recurrence of the invasion theme across a broad range of genres and modes exceeding that of future war fiction and including so-called ‘yellow peril’ narratives, crime and detective fiction and the gothic. In conclusion, a number of avenues complementing the textual and the historical are suggested for future exploration.

This chapter reads key works by fin-de-siecle popular author Richard Marsh in light of recent biographical discoveries about him, focusing on his best-selling late-Victorian gothic novels The Devil’s Diamond (1893), The Beetle: A Mystery (1897), The Goddess: A Demon (1900) and The Joss: A Reversion (1901). It uncovers traces of Marsh’s chequered early career in the accounts of criminality and social precariousness that underpin the horror in these texts, arguing that Marsh’s experience manifests in incongruous moments of realism which disrupt the texts’ gothic modality. The chapter contributes to the ongoing critical rediscovery of Marsh, largely forgotten by the mid-twentieth century, providing new insights into his work and into the complex interaction between two prominent Victorian literary modes, the realist and the gothic.

The epigraph is from M.P. Shiel’s novel of global catastrophe, The Purple Cloud (1901), in which a massive volcanic eruption produces a cloud of lethal gas that wipes out humanity down to a single remaining man. As the lone survivor, Adam Jeffson, wends his erratic way through what has become a planetary necropolis, he notices that not only has the volcanic cloud annihilated all living creatures, it has also stopped all the clocks — symbolically ending time. Thus the ‘thousand weird fore-fingers’ are the clock hands all frozen concurrently with the moment of extinction, ‘keepers of the end of Time’.1 Nor is this macabre synchronicity coincidental; rather the text exhibits a thematic preoccupation with the nature of time and its putative end that engages with late nineteenth-century thinking and debate on the subject. As Stephen Kern observes, ‘From around 1880 to the outbreak of World War I a series of sweeping changes in technology and culture created distinctive new ways of thinking about and experiencing time.’2 These ranged from new technologies such as the telephone and phonograph to social developments such as the global standardization of time, from scientific theories debating the age of the earth to philosophical speculation about the experience of human subjectivity in time.