The tango was born just before the turn of the twentieth century in Buenos Aires as the resulting blend of the cultures of Italian, Spanish, French and Eastern European Jewish immigrants and Afro-Argentine rhythms. In the 1910s the tango took Western Europe by storm, soon reaching Eastern Europe. Ballrooms and cabarets featured this Latin American import; composers, Jews amongst them, started to write new tangos. Inevitably, during the Holocaust tango became part of the life of ghettos and concentration camps, where it, now in Yiddish, was once again adopted as a vehicle to express the experience of inmates and their hopes for freedom. Not only did the Nazis allow this music, they forced Lagerkapellen, the camp orchestras, to play the Tango of Death to accompany prisoners as they were marched to the gas chambers. In different and happier circumstances, Jewish musicians living in Buenos Aires and New York - many of whom were émigrés - wrote Yiddish tangos for the Yiddish theatre, musicals and Jewish revues. The mixed nature of tango probably explains why it has been continuously embraced and transformed during its extraordinary voyage around the world. Yiddish tangos are only an episode in this chronicle, an example of the Jews' tendency to adapt to the ethos of their adoptive countries and also, more generally, the mutual acceptance and fruitful interaction between peoples.
Facts, Fictions and the Invention of a Scientific Discourse in Early Modern Europe
Joan-Pau Rubiés and Francis Bacon
Francis Bacon’s endorsement of travel for the sake of the universal light of knowledge, in his posthumous scientific utopia New Atlantis (expressing his personal aspiration for the foundation of a scientific institution), identifies well the strategic place that travel literature had come to occupy in the culture of early seventeenth-century Europe. Travel literature is certainly not a unique European creation, but its remarkable development throughout the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was crucial in the formation of a specifically Western discourse on human societies, one increasingly organised around a vision of natural and historical diversity but also tied inextricably to universalist assumptions and aspirations.
Eric S. Rabkin
Frankenstein and Dracula represent two different genres in print but only one in film. The emergence of science fiction from the Gothic exemplifies normal public genre development. The translation of the written Frankenstein and Dracula into film exemplifies genre development as an adaptation both to historical moment and to medium. In both the print and film cases, we can see the same mechanisms by which a genre is not only established in the public sphere but in the mind of a reader or viewer, a dialectic process in which the genre forms and informs reading and viewing and potentially, as a genre, is reformed by reading and viewing. Consideration of cognitive mechanisms involved in verbal and visual cognition shows both the interaction and the typical dominance of the visual, although genre, and hence individual works, can be modified by increasing our focus on the verbal.
The second special issue on the literature of the thirties follows on
from an earlier edition of Critical Survey which brought together new
critical writings on the period (volume 10, number 3, 1988). The first
four essays selected are responses to regionalism and identity and the
last two to the issues raised by the relationships of gender and generic
fiction. Simon Featherstone analyses how two popular artistes, Gracie
Fields (the ‘mill girl’) and Max Miller (‘the cheeky chappie’)
achieved success in an entertainment industry that was changing
rapidly in response to technological and cultural pressures. Their stardom
depended on the dialogues between regional and national
identities as part of a national cultural dynamic during a decade in
which mass popular forms reconstituted the older regional and local
traditions of dialogue and performance. Steven Matthews sees
Auden’s injunction to ‘Consider this and in our time’ as a ‘clarion call
to a particular, post-The Waste Land, form of modernity’. Focusing on
Scottish and Irish writers (Louis MacNeice, Sorley Maclean, Grassic
Gibbon et al.) Matthews argues that the temporality of some thirties’
writing aligns it closely with the emergent nationalisms familiar in
recent postcolonial theory.
Genre differentiation is possible by external factors (function, communicative situation) and internal factors (grammar, theme). As the external factors for all 18 texts of the corpus are the same, the article relies on internal factors. The cohesive means of genre identification in this corpus are recurrence, time structure, connectivity, grounding, and lexis. The peculiarity of Koriak genre differentiation consists in a preponderance of narrative structures, which are characterized by a sequential time line with passages in scenic present tense and structures of a theme with a following exemplification.
Ann Hallamore Caesar
This article situates Carlo Goldoni's stage adaptation of Samuel Richardson's Pamela in the context of other stage versions in France and in Italy, focusing on the ideological difficulties presented by the interclass marriage that brings the novel to a happy conclusion. It then turns to the relationship between novel and play and discusses two aspects of Richardson's novel that show a particular affinity with the stage: its epistolarity and the representation of the emotions.
In the French polemics over the Islamic headscarf, the relationship betweensecularism and sexual equality has sometimes been made out to be an artificialone. The articulation between politics, religion, secularism, and women'srights is examined here over the longue durée. Since the beginning of the secularizationprocess during the French Revolution, a minority has championedan egalitarian conception of secularization. Rivalries between or convergencesof political and religious authorities have driven an ambivalent and not veryequal secularization, creating secular pacts that rely on gender pacts to thedetriment of equality. This dynamic reversed itself beginning in the 1960swith the battle for legal contraception and abortion, which shook one of thevery bases of French Catholicism to its foundation. The headscarf affairsrevealed the egalitarian effects of secularism and favored the elaboration ofthought about secularism in conjunction with sexual equality, which, whateverthe various interpretations of that thought may be, could prove to be anon-negligible benefit.
Set in the framework of a theory of argumentation in discourse, this paper examines the impact of generic constraints on rewriting. More specifically, it analyses the way in which an episode of Vera Brittain's life, the loss of her fiancé during World War I, is rewritten in her autobiographical texts - diary, correspondence and memoir. The attempt at coming to terms with the terrible loss, at understanding and interpreting its circumstances, at sharing it with others, changes when rewritten for another audience in another situation of communication. The exploration of the means through which a new version is worked out - quotation, copying, rephrasing, reframing, addition of details, change of point of view, polyphony, etc. - throws light not only on the rhetoric of rewriting, but also on the experience of mourning in its relation to the 1914-18 `war culture'. By showing how mourning as a cultural phenomenon is differently constructed in variable verbal contexts, rhetorical analysis aspires to complement cultural history.
This article revisits questions of the embodiment (screen and otherwise) with regard to the most representative first generation hypertext fictions—Shelley Jackson’s Patchwork Girl—in order to show how this new genre’s search for identity takes the form of a programmatic inversion of the principles underlying the Romantic poetics and imagery and of a conscious identification with the forms that established views of literature exiled from its realm. The analysis follows the train of metaphorical oppositions deriving from the contrast that Patchwork Girl sets up between book and hypertext by presenting itself as a derivative of Mary Shelley’s novel embodied in a monster (re)born from discarded pieces (of prose or flesh) as opposed to the beautiful and harmonious body that is the book.
The end of the nineteenth century and beginning of the twentieth saw the emergence of the detective novel in Europe and in the United States and it soon became a social phenomenon. In the countries pertaining to the Ottoman Empire the Sephardim were no exception; they, too, were avid readers of these detective novels. As was true of much of the literature published in Ladino at this time, these novels were translated from other languages. They were aljamiados, that is to say written in Hebrew script and published in Salonica. In most cases each novel was about forty pages long and generally published as a separate book, although some novels were published in instalments in the Ladino newspapers of the time.