Band 135, Heft 3

While captivity narratives have long been recognized as an important field of research in American Studies, the substantial body of autobiographical tales portraying captivity in the Muslim world published in England between the late sixteenth and early eighteenth century has only recently begun to attract the attention of literary scholars. Despite a number of important pioneering works, however, British captivity narratives have not only remained at the margins of early modern studies, but even where they have received attention they have mainly been treated as historical source material. In other words, there has hardly been any interest in the genre of captivity narratives as a textual and literary phenomenon in its own right. As a consequence, most of the published stories in question lack thorough narrative analysis, although the genre is situated at the intriguing intersection of travel literature, religious writing (e. g. tales of martyrdom), and prose fiction, and arguably constitutes one of the forerunners of the early novel. This paper proposes that we need to go beyond the limits of current research by rereading British tales of captivity with a stronger interest in their narrative composition, their discursive and generic contexts, and the pragmatics of publishing. Only in this way it will be possible to both do justice and draw more sustained attention to this highly fascinating and yet still understudied genre of literary texts.

This essay argues that Orwell’s representation of animals as companion species offers a strikingly new, as-yet largely neglected view of animal agency and interiority in his work. In “Shooting an Elephant”, Burmese Days and “Marrakech”, the writer’s focus on the social reject is supplemented by a marked sense of community implying human tragedy yet framing it within precariously situated human-animal, colonial or urban-imperial transitions that visualise animals as agents of change and co-shaping species interdependent with the lives of the humans that utilize and domineer them. Animals are required whenever Orwell aspires to shift from isolation to communality, from the self-conscious outsider to the larger realm of ideas framing the world in which his characters strive to overstep the accepted lines of social performance and conformity. Read in and around disciplinary structures of rationalization, Orwell’s animals appear to secure themselves, quite paradoxically, a place within the normative anthropocentric framework excluding them. They extend beyond anthropomorphising or allegorical modes of description and open up bio-political perspectives within and across regimes of knowledge and empathy. Orwell’s writings thus present a challenge to the culturally accredited fantasy of human exceptionalism, collapsing any epistemic space between humans and animals and burying the idea of sustaining radical species distinction.

This article expands and develops current reformulations of the term ‘authenticity’ by juxtaposing Peter Nichols’s dramatic presentation of (in)authentic behavior in Passion Play , Søren Kierkegaard’s writings on authenticity, and recent studies in psychology and affective neuroscience. Re-thinking Kierkegaard’s views on identity and autonomy in relation to Nichols’s presentation of the experiences of betrayal, despair, and self-governance, the article explores how innovative theatrical performance may cause spectators to physically simulate various modes of existential choice, and elucidates the constitutive role played by bodily responses in the shaping of self-understanding and interpersonal communication. While sharing aspects of Kierkegaard’s category of the ‘individual’, as a person who is fully conscious of him/her self and takes responsibility for that self’s conduct, the model of authentic self-becoming that emerges from this discussion is anchored in a balance between attunement to bodily cues, self-directed reflection, and decisive action.

This article reveals a central yet hitherto unsuspected meditation in Wallace Stevens on the problem of the other person in relation to the concept of the other construed by Gilles Deleuze as the “expression of a possible world” (1990: 308). It demonstrates that, seen from this perspective, the figure of subjectivity appears to be a rhetorical means in the service of a poetics centered on the other. In readings of Stevens, it traces the way in which he thinks through the question of the other and detects two main forms in which this is registered in the poems: the other is either associated with ‘possibility’, an occasion of euphoric affects, or with the foreclosure of a more fundamental reality, an ‘outside’, of which the other is merely a phenomenal representative and which occasions poignant affects. The reading of Stevens’s late poem “Prologues to What Is Possible” shows that these two poles in relation to the other are juxtaposed in a paradigmatic manner.

T. C. Boyle’s fifteenth novel The Harder They Come (2015) offers a fictional inquiry into the American propensity for violence and takes its title from Jimmy Cliff’s 1972 reggae song and its motto from D. H. Lawrence’s characterization of the “essential American soul [as] hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer” (1978: 68). The article investigates how Boyle creates a metafictional historiography by combining two unrelated historical events – the bare-handed killing of a mugger by an elderly American veteran in Costa Rica and the long police hunt for the schizophrenic murderer Aaron Bassler in the Mendocino Redwoods – with a fictional character who represents the paranoid fringe worlds of sovereign citizens. The article then shows how Boyle embeds his plot in a general atmosphere of menace and incorporates the legend of the heroic mountain man John Colter, thus adding historical depth and evoking the world of wilderness survivalists. It also examines the narrative techniques, such as the choice of a schizophrenic’s point of view, and the stylistic features employed in order to fuse these ingredients into a thrilling tale that reveals the hidden relations between American foundation myths and the threats of contemporary gun violence.

Literary reactions to the transformation of landscape by modern technology foreground the fragility of the planet while at the same time suggesting notions of immensity and inspiring awe. Oil mining, in particular, threatens and destroys essential mega-biotopes, as for example two of the biggest wetlands on earth, the Athabasca Tar Sands in Canada’s northern Alberta and the Niger Delta in southern Nigeria. While we are flooded, daily, by media reports on environmental damage and by scientifically based scenarios of future catastrophes, it is literature with its specifically ambiguous and multidimensional make-up, which proves to be an ideal medium to foreground the ambivalence of twenty-first century societies regarding their attitude towards a radically modified natural environment. The double aesthetics of the sublime, in particular, proves to be a congenial creative (and critical) approach to these fear- and awe-inspiring landscapes, which have been forged and shaped by technology and industry. In my essay I want to show how twenty-first century Canadian and Nigerian writers have responded to the effects of oil mining in their respective countries by drawing on notions of the sublime as they came to be articulated by Edmund Burke in the eighteenth century and have been taken up by scholars in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Through their narrative and poetic ‘sublime oilscapes’ these authors effectively foreground the problems inherent in the split attitude of contemporary societies.