Journal articles on the topic 'Brittains Group'

This article uses the figure of the mosaic to explore the multiple ways in which Breton creators of bande dessinée have engaged with cutural, social and political questions from the 1940s to the twenty-first century. Graphic works published in the 1940s magazine O Lo Lê, created by Herri and Ronan Caouissin and later revived in the early 1970s, offered nostalgic images of a fantasized past, a form of cultural propaganda based on myths of Celtic ancestors, literary forefathers such as Auguste Brizeux, and the politics of provincialism. In the second half of the 1970s and early 1980s, amid calls for internal decolonization, the Breton BD scene became more varied, depicting emigration, unemployment and social unrest while giving voice to political dissent and deconstructing the clichés of picturesque localism. Finally, a selection of contemporary texts offers a space for re-examining Frenchness through the interplay between different languages and cultures, new models of relationality informed by postcolonial and ecocritical frameworks. As a hybrid, dynamic art form, BD emerges as a key contributor to the construction and deconstruction of community and group identities.

AbstractLate Carboniferous red-beds, < 700 m thick, at outcrop and in the subsurface of the Canonbie Coalfield can be assigned to the Warwickshire Group. They are preserved within the axial part of the Solway Syncline and are divisible into the Eskbank Wood, Canonbie Bridge Sandstone and Becklees Sandstone formations. Sedimentation largely took place on a well-drained alluvial plain, characterized mainly by early, primary oxidation of the strata. Large, northerly-flowing braided river systems were common, with overbank and floodplain fines deposited lateral to the channels; soils formed during intervals of low sediment aggradation. The Canonbie succession includes some of the youngest Carboniferous rocks preserved in the UK. Correlation of the Eskbank Wood Formation is equivocal, but using petrographical, heavy mineral, zircon age dating and palaeocurrent data, the Canonbie Bridge Sandstone Formation can be unambiguously correlated with the Halesowen Formation of Warwickshire, the Pennant Sandstone Formation of South Wales and the offshore Boulton Formation. This suggests that southerly-derived detritus travelled considerable distances from the Variscan highlands of Brittany and/or central Germany across the southern North Sea and UK areas, to a position some hundreds of kilometres north of that previously recognized. The Becklees Sandstone Formation has much in common with the Salop Formation of the English Midlands. It appears to have no preserved equivalent elsewhere in the UK or in the UK sector of the southern North Sea but resembles stratigraphically higher parts of the southern North Sea succession seen in the Dutch sector.

Rasbora dusonensis, R. tornieri and R. myersi are valid species. Rasbora dusonensis sensu Brittan (1954) is R. tornieri and R. dusonensis sensu Kottelat (1991) is R. myersi. Both R. dusonensis and R. tornieri are members of the R. argyrotaenia group and can be distinguished from congeners in having a broad, dark, sharply-defined midlateral stripe on body extending from opercle to caudal-fin base and separated from the dark dorsum by a highly contrasting light longitudinal area; 12–14 predorsal scales; the dorsohypural distance equal to or slightly less than the distance between the dorsal-fin origin and the posterior orbital margin and 14 circumpeduncular scale rows. The two species differ from each other by the color and color pattern on the caudal fin, and caudal peduncle depth.

About a decade ago, a large field of pockmarks, covering an overall area of 36 km2 was discovered in water depths of < 30 m in the central part of the Bay of Concarneau (Southern Brittany, France). This field, composed of features from 5 m to 35 m in diameter and < 1 m in depth, is characterized by unusual high densities of pockmarks, up to 5840 per square kilometre. Geophysical data correlated with sedimentary samples acquired in 2005 and 2009 show that pockmarks and their immediate surroundings are associated with dense tubes benches cover, built by a filter-feeding amphipod: Haploops nirae, forming original benthic communities. Two complementary surveys were carried out in April 2011 (Pock and Ploops) and April 2014 (Pock and Tide), on the Oceanographic Vedette (O/V) Haliotis (Ifremer/Genavir), to map the limit of the pockmarks and Haploops fields with the maximum accuracy. The link between the presence of the Haploops nirae communities and the occurrence of pockmarks /gas was then established and the proposed hypothesis was that tidal cycles may provide a good candidate for a short-term (monthly) triggering mechanism of fluid expulsion (Baltzer A, Ehrhold A, Rigolet C, Souron A, Cordier C, Clouet H. 2014. Geophysical exploration of an active pockmark field in the Bay of Concarneau, southern Brittany, and implications for resident suspension feeders. Geo-Marine Letters, 34, 215–230). Due to the high-level precision (50 cm) of the positioning system (Magellan Aquarius Ixsea Hydrins) coupled with the RTK attitude system, these new bathymetric and imagery maps together with the sub-bottom Chirp profiles, allow us to compare the data sets from April 2011 and April 2014. The superimposition of the two data sets shows that the distribution of the pockmarks remains similar between these 2 dates (i.e. for 3 years), for the group of large, widely scattered pockmarks, which are deeply rooted in the Holocene palaeo-valley infills and for the group of pockmarks identified as the trawl-scour pockmarks, initiated by trawling action. Most of the pockmarks present very recent shapes without any infilling but sonar imagery reveals that some of them have been covered by a thin muddy layer, thereby reflecting, at least, a temporary cessation of expulsion or a different activity. Chirp profiles indicate some acoustic flares above the pockmarks, revealing gas/fluid expulsion. Different gas clues within the sedimentary column, such as acoustic turbidity, enhanced gas reflectors (EGR), chimneys pipes, occur at exactly the same places on the chirp seismic profiles from 2011 and 2014. Therefore, contrary to most examples described in the literature, this pockmarks field is still active.

The first records of extinct Caulinia goretskyi (Dorofeev) Dorofeev (synonym Najas goretskyi Dorofeev) in western Europe and of Potamogeton occidentalis M.H. Field sp. nov. were obtained from plant macrofossil analyses of Middle Pleistocene temperate stage deposits exposed at Trez Rouz, Brittany, France. Palynological assemblages recovered suggest correlation with the Holsteinian Stage. This discovery greatly expands the western limit of the paleogeographical distribution of Caulinia goretskyi. The record of Potamogeton occidentalis indicates an affinity with the eastern Asiatic flora, as the fruits resemble those of the extant Potamogeton maackianus A. Bennett. Other extinct Pleistocene species related to P. maackianus have been described, and it is possible to follow the development of this group through the Pleistocene in the European fossil record. These new finds illustrate the importance of a complete paleobotanical approach (both plant macrofossil and palynological analyses). The plant macrofossil assemblages not only provide detailed insight into local vegetation and environment, because they are often not transported long distances (in temperate areas) and can frequently be identified to species level; they can also offer the opportunity to investigate Pleistocene evolutionary trends.

305 Background: FOLFIRINOX, one of the gold standard in metastatic pancreatic cancer as first-line therapy for patients under 76 years with PS 0-1, good haematological and renal function and a subnormal bilirubin level (Prodige 4 criteria), was analysed in Brittany (B) and Pays de la Loire (PL) in routine clinical practice. Methods: Our aim is to evaluate the use of Folfirinox between July 2010 and December 2012 in B/PL. Results: Data of 340 patients have been studied (198 men, median age 63 years [29-81]). 208 patients were metastatic at diagnosis (liver 67%). 62 primary tumors were resected and 51 patients had received previous adjuvant chemotherapy (gemcitabine, n=48). The median progression free survival PFS and overall survival OS were respectively 6.80 months IC95% [6.18-7.43] and 10.97 months IC 95% [9.56-11.83]. Patients could be divided into 4 groups : Group 1 composed of patients treated according to Prodige 4 trial (n=242), Group 2 1st line metastatic patients with at least one Prodige 4 non-eligibility criterion (n=25), Group 3 locally advanced patients (n=59) and Group 4 by Folfirinox in 2ndline (n=14). The median number of cycles was 9 [1-27] in Group 1 and 6 [1-12] in Group 2. Clinical benefit was 65% (group 1) vs 56% (group 2). During treatment, 81% of patients had a dose adjustment (Group 1) vs 72% (Group 2) and 32% vs 40% presented grade III/IV toxicity (mostly neuro- or haematotoxicity). Median PFS were respectively in Group 1 vs Group 2 : 6.54 months IC95% [5.98-7.29] vs 4.14 [1.68-6.21] (p=0.0107) and median OS :10.91 months IC 95% [8.94-12.02] vs 7.0 IC95% [4.01-11.20] (p=0.0166). For Group 3 and 4, median OS were respectively 11.24 months [10.0-15.01] vs 11.50 [4.83-14.09]. Others results will be shown at the meeting. For Group 1, stopping treatment before progression induced significatively better median PFS and OS than going on treatment until progression : PFS : 8.25 IC95[7.52-8.74] vs 3.48. IC95 [3.09-4.44] (p<0.0001) and OS : 12.78 months IC95 [11.60-15.54] vs 7.62 IC95 [6.44-9.49] (p<0.0001). Conclusions: Our results for Group 1 are relatively consistent with those of Prodige 4: objective response rate (39% vs 32%), PFS (6.5 vs 6.4 months) and OS (10.9 vs 11.1 months). Non eligibity for Prodige 4’s criteria decreases PFS and OS significantly.

The complexity and scales of the processes that shape communities of marine benthic macroinvertebrates has limited our understanding of their assembly mechanisms and the potential to make projections of their spatial and temporal dynamics. Individual-based models can shed light on community assembly mechanisms, by allowing observed spatiotemporal patterns to emerge from first principles about the modeled organisms. Previous work in the Rance estuary (Brittany, France) revealed the principal functional components of its benthic macroinvertebrate communities and derived a set of functional relationships between them. These elements were combined here for the development of a dynamic and spatially explicit model that operates at two spatial scales. At the fine scale, modeling each individual’s life cycle allowed the representation of recruitment, inter- and intra-group competition, biogenic habitat modification and predation mortality. Larval dispersal and environmental filtering due to the tidal characteristics of the Rance estuary were represented at the coarse scale. The two scales were dynamically linked and the model was parameterized on the basis of theoretical expectations and expert knowledge. The model was able to reproduce some patterns of α- and β-diversity that were observed in the Rance estuary in 1995. Model analysis demonstrated the role of local and regional processes, particularly early post-settlement mortality and spatially restricted dispersal, in shaping marine benthos. It also indicated biogenic habitat modification as a promising area for future research. The combination of this mechanism with different substrate types, along with the representation of physical disturbances and more trophic categories, could increase the model’s realism. The precise parameterization and validation of the model is expected to extend its scope from the exploration of community assembly mechanisms to the formulation of predictions about the responses of community structure and functioning to environmental change.

ABSTRACT In the archives of the old and wealthy patrician family of the ““da Filicaia”” housed in the Florentine Archivio di Stato survives a group of letters written by, among others, one Ambrogio Angeni to the young Antonio da Filicaia, away on family business in northern Europe for extended periods of time during the 1480s and 1490s. The correspondence details the musical activities of these young men's Florentine brigata and reveals a close involvement with Heinrich Isaac and proximity to Lorenzo de' Medici's private musical circles. The letters document a very active traffic in musical scores, both vernacular works composed in Florence by Isaac and others that were mailed north, as well as sacred and secular works composed in France and sent to Florence. More specifically, the letters contain many musical references to new compositions, works by Isaac, preparations for carnival, aesthetic judgments and technical discussions, Lorenzo's patronage, and a very active local composer previously unknown to musicologists. The correspondence dates from 1487––89, while Antonio was residing in Nantes (Brittany), and it provides an unprecedented view of musical life in Florence at a critical period when carnival celebrations were resurgent, northern repertory was being collected and copied, northern composers (like Isaac) were interacting with local composers, and compositional procedures were changing.

The study aim was to establish the prevalence of DEA 1, the most immunogenic and clinically important blood group in canine blood transfusion, in 7,414 dogs from Italy. The potential sensitization risk following a first transfusion and the acute reaction risk following a second transfusion given without a cross-matching and blood typing test were also calculated. Dogs tested were purebred (4,798) and mongrel (2,616); 38.8% were DEA 1 negative and 61.2% were DEA 1 positive. High prevalence for DEA 1 positive blood type was found in Ariegeois and English Setter, whereas German Shepherd and Boxer had higher DEA 1 negative blood type. Breeds with blood type never reported before included French Brittany Spaniel and Pug showing a high prevalence of DEA 1 positive type, while French Bulldog and West Highland White Terrier were more often DEA 1 negative. Just 48.8% of purebred and 13.9% of mongrel dogs were considered as prospective blood donors based upon their blood type. Most of the breeds had a sensitization risk of 20.0–25.0%. Rottweiler and Ariegeois had less risk of sensitization (9.4 and 4.2%) and the minor risk of an acute transfusional reaction (0.9–0.2%). The prevalence of DEA 1 positive and negative dogs in Italy agrees with most of the data already reported in the literature.

AbstractBy drastically reducing the bulk strength of crustal materials, partial-melting is one of the main parameter controlling the rheological behaviour of the continental crust. With more than ca. 50% of the outcropping surface characterised by migmatites and granites, the coastal South Armorican domain, offers an opportunity to study deep-orogenic processes and more particularly, to understand the role of partial-melting for the late-evolution of the Variscan belt. To date, time-constraints are scarce hindering the understanding of this crucial stage in the Variscan belt evolution. This paper provides 29 new U-Th/Pb chemical ages on monazite collected over five sampling areas consisting in migmatite domes and late regional classic plutons. Based on structural, textural and chemical criteria, three main U-Th/Pb age-groups are distinguished. The first group, settled at ca. 335–330 Ma concerns samples of restites and core-domains of the monazite crystals for most of the granite massifs. Its significance is ascribed to inherited crystallisation ages probably recording the crossing of prograde monazite forming reactions (i.e. metamorphic isograds) during increasing P-T conditions in an overall nappe-stacking context. The second group that clusters at ca. 325–320 Ma corresponds to newly formed monazite grains that crystallised from juvenile silicate melts. Ages of this group are interpreted as crystallisation ages of leucosomes after a major partial-melting event that affected the whole domain. The last ca. 320 Ma group corresponds to rim-domains of monazite crystals. It is interpreted as the emplacement age of most of the large-scale granite massifs and therefore fixes the end of the partial-melting event.The inception and drastic generalisation of partial-melting at peak-P conditions therefore coincides with a major change in the tectonic regime recorded at regional-scale. In the lights of these results, this implies that (1) either continuous stacking of continental crustal units, rich in radiogenic elements, led to an increase of temperature within the orogenic wedge provoking partial-melting, the resulting drop in the crustal strength inducing collapse and lateral expansion of the belt, or (2) a drastic change of the boundary conditions has induced hot asthenospheric upwelling which in turn led to coeval extension and partial-melting. At a more local scale, strain benefited of the low-strength of the magmatic bodies prior to complete crystallisation promoting intense strain localisation within the South Armorican domain large-scale laccoliths often referred to as synkinematic plutons.

Purpose This paper aims to evaluate how places approach the promotion of local food products and what it means to produce, consume and support local produce in a rural region. Design/methodology/approach The study uses a participatory action-reflective approach through a series of three focus groups held over consecutive weeks with nine participants. This included local food producers, artists and community members, with data collected through focus group discussions, reflective video diaries and a questionnaire. The research was conducted in Rhondda Cynon Taf, Wales, a region with entrepreneurial potential but lacking a reputation for food. Findings Findings demonstrate confused perceptions of local identity, leading to a clichéd image of the region. As such, an origin brand may do little to enhance the value of local produce or increase economic prosperity in places that lack an established identity. Places with a more recognised reputation for food, such as Wales, could benefit from an origin brand, similar to Brittany. Originality/value The study extends the academic understanding of place branding by investigating the value of using origin branding in promoting food products. The context of a lesser-known region highlights the importance of awareness and reputation for the successful implementation of the brand. Additionally, the unique community-led action-reflective methodology provides a holistic model in exploring the effective development of the brand.

Within the subfamily Danioninae, rasborine cyprinids are known as a ‘catch-all’ group, diagnosed by only a few characteristics. Most species closely resemble each other in morphology. Species identification is therefore often challenging. In this study, we attempted to determine the number of rasborine species occurring in samples from the Mesangat wetlands in East Kalimantan, Indonesia, by using different approaches. Morphological identification resulted in the distinction of five species (Trigonopoma sp., Rasbora cf. hubbsi Brittan, 1954, R. rutteni Weber and de Beaufort, 1916, R. trilineata Steindachner, 1870, and R. vaillantii, Popta 1905). However, genetic species delimitation methods (Poisson tree processes (PTP) and multi-rate PTP (mPTP)) based on DNA barcodes and principal component analysis (PCA) based on homologous geometric morphometric landmarks, revealed a single cluster for Trigonopoma sp. and R. trilineata, respectively, whereas the remaining traditionally identified species were distinguished neither by DNA barcodes nor by the morphometry approach. A k-mean clustering based on the homologous landmarks divided the sample into 13 clusters and was thus found to be inappropriate for landmark data from species extremely resembling each other in morphology. Due to inconsistent results between the applied methods we refer to the traditional identifications and distinguish five rasborine species for the Mesangat wetlands.

Written and directed by Marzia Jamili, a Hazara refugee now living in Sweden, Unimaginable Dreams is an auto-ethnographic essay film that traces Marzia’s last days in Athens, Greece. Blending documentary and fiction, Marzia casts her best friends to recreate magically real versions of her dearest memories of Athens as she delivers a cutting address to Afghanistan, in which she tells the sea about her broken homeland. This film project seeks to demonstrate the possibilities of collaborative filmmaking as a methodology, particularly in response to the limitations of etic observational approaches in migration research and the lack of refugee voices in public discourse. Through reenactment and Marzia’s epistolary narrative, Unimaginable Dreams resurfaces notions of belonging and citizenship within the imagination, weaving together oneiric and real geographies situated in the past and future. Facing perpetual displacement and public erasure, the film medium offers a declarative space of visibility in Athens, where its maker articulates rights and desires denied by the state. Unimaginable Dreams is the first production by the Melissa Network's Film Club, a collaborative program cofounded by Brittany Nugent and Dove Barbanel that challenges hegemonic representations of migrant women by empowering members to reclaim the gaze and create narratives of their own. A creative group of women from Afghanistan, Iran, Syria, Iraq, Kenya, Nigeria and Ethiopia share diverse perspectives to analyze their favorite movies, learn filmmaking skills and collaborate on original productions that add urgent personal nuance and depth to migration storytelling.

Streptococcus pyogenes or group A Streptococcus (GAS) causes diseases ranging from uncomplicated pharyngitis to life-threatening infections. It has complex epidemiology driven by the diversity, the temporal and geographical fluctuations of the circulating strains. Despite the global burden of GAS diseases, there is currently no available vaccination strategy against GAS infections. This study, based on a longitudinal population survey, aimed to understand the dynamic of GAS emm types and to give leads to better recognition of underlying mechanisms for the emergence of successful clones. From 2009 to 2017, we conducted a systematic culture-based diagnosis of GAS infections in a French Brittany population with a prospective recovery of clinical data. The epidemiological analysis was performed using emm typing combined with the structural and functional cluster-typing system for all the recovered strains. Risk factors for the invasiveness, identified by univariate analysis, were computed in a multiple logistic regression analysis, and the only independent risk factor remaining in the model was the age (OR for the entire range [CI95%] = 6.35 [3.63, 11.10]; p<0.0001). Among the 61 different emm types identified, the most prevalent were emm28 (16%), emm89 (15%), emm1 (14%), and emm4 (8%), which accounted for more than 50% of circulating strains. During the study period, five genotypes identified as emm44, 66, 75, 83, 87 emerged successively and belonged to clusters D4, E2, E3, and E6 that were different from those gathering “Prevalent” emm types (clusters A-C3 to 5, E1 and E4). We previously reported significant genetic modifications for emm44, 66, 83 and 75 types resulting possibly from a short adaptive evolution. Herein we additionally observed that the emergence of a new genotype could occur in a susceptible population having specific risk factors or probably lacking a naturally-acquired cluster-specific immune cross-protection. Among emergent emm types, emm75 and emm87 tend to become prevalent with a stable annual incidence and the risk of a clonal expansion have to be considered.

AbstractFacies and stratigraphic analysis of the Port Lazo and Roche Jagu formations, together the lower part of the Plourivo-Plouézec Group, suggests deposition in three distinct depositional systems. The lower part of the Port Lazo Formation comprises red conglomerate, sandstone and shale of alluvial fan to alluvial plain origin. A conformable interval of grey sandstone and shale succeeds the lower Port Lazo red beds and records a period of subtidal sedimentation dominated by river-fed, shallow-water turbidity currents (hyperpycnites). The succeeding Roche Jagu Formation comprises red sandstones and shales of braided fluvial origin. It is intercalated with, and succeeded by, andesites. The andesites succeeding the fluvial strata overlie a prominent erosion surface and are lava flows, whereas those intercalated with the fluvial strata are intrusions. Rb–Sr radiometric dating of the andesites at 472+/−5 Ma is commonly used as evidence for the whole Plourivo-Plouézec Group being Early Ordovician in age. However, the stratigraphic relationships and patterns of sedimentation in the Port Lazo and Roche Jagu formations, together with the localized presence of Arumberia, suggest they are most likely of early Cambrian age and related to a phase of post-Cadomian rifting. The facies deposited show both similarities to and differences from neighbouring strata of equivalent age, and highlight the control exerted by sediment load on alluvial and nearshore processes on early Palaeozoic environments.

ABSTRACT On December 12, 1999, the 30,000-ton tanker Erika broke apart 100 km off the coast of Brittany, one of Europe's most pristine natural environments. France immediately launched a prepared countermeasure, the Polmar plan, designed to minimize the impact of the disaster on the sea and shore. In spite of the relatively small amount of fuel released, the location of the spill in high seas and the bad weather conditions caused the pollution to spread widely along the coastline over a number of weeks. Wildlife centers were mobilized to handle the anticipated load of 1,000 oiled birds. In the end, more than 15,000 birds were captured alive. The sea birds impacted were mainly guillemots and, to a lesser extent, scoters and gannets. TotalFinaElf helped the triage centers by providing finances, medical material, water-heating facilities, and several automated bird-washing devices with specialized detergent. The group funds the medical studies undertaken on the oiled birds in the triage center of the National Veterinary School (ENV) of Nantes. It also works in partnership with the French National Bird Rescue Association to improve the emergency response plan by defining their needs in terms of equipment and to provide a consensual “oiled-bird caring protocol” manual. This report will both assess the existing response program by detailing the chronological implementation of the emergency plan for the oiled birds and present the first results of the medical studies undertaken. It will detail the types of birds impacted, the methods by which they were cured and cleaned, an analysis of their condition, the efforts made to improve the treatments, and, most importantly, the medical questions raised by such a situation.

Results of Euler deconvolution strongly depend on the selection of viable solutions. Synthetic calculations using multiple causative sources show that Euler solutions cluster in the vicinity of causative bodies even when they do not group densely about the perimeter of the bodies. We have developed a clustering technique to serve as a tool for selecting appropriate solutions. The clustering technique uses a methodology based on artificial intelligence, and it was originally designed to classify large data sets. It is based on a geometrical approach to study object concentration in a finite metric space of any dimension. The method uses a formal definition of cluster and includes free parameters that search for clusters of given properties. Tests on synthetic and real data showed that the clustering technique successfully outlines causative bodies more accurately than other methods used to discriminate Euler solutions. In complex field cases, such as the magnetic field in the Gulf of Saint Malo region (Brittany, France), the method provides dense clusters, which more clearly outline possible causative sources. In particular, it allows one to trace offshore the main inland tectonic structures and to study their interrelationships in the Gulf of Saint Malo. The clusters provide solutions associated with particular bodies, or parts of bodies, allowing the analysis of different clusters of Euler solutions separately. This may allow computation of average parameters for individual causative bodies. Those measurements of the anomalous field that yield clusters also form dense clusters themselves. Application of this clustering technique thus outlines areas where the influence of different causative sources is more prominent. This allows one to focus on these areas for more detailed study, using different window sizes, structural indices, etc.

Most studies of Anglo-Irish relations in the middle ages understandably concentrate on the activity of the English in Ireland, and unintentionally but inevitably this can leave the impression that the movement of people was all one way. But this was not so, and one group who travelled in the opposite direction were some of the merchants and seamen involved in the Anglo-Irish trade of the period. Irish merchants and seamen travelled widely and could be found in Iceland, Lisbon, Bordeaux, Brittany and Flanders, but probably their most regular trade remained with their closest neighbour and political overlord: England. They visited most western and southern English ports, but inevitably were found most frequently in the west, especially at Chester and Bristol. The majority of them stayed for a few days or weeks, as long as their business demanded. Others settled permanently in England, or, perhaps more accurately, re-settled in England, for those who came to England both as settlers and visitors were mainly the Anglo-Irish of the English towns in Ireland and not the Gaelic Irish. This makes it difficult to estimate accurately the numbers of both visitors and settlers, because the status of the Anglo-Irish was legally that of denizen, and record-keepers normally had no reason to identify them separately. They may, therefore, be hard to distinguish from native Englishmen of similar name outside the short periods when governments (central or urban) temporarily sought to restrict their activities. However, the general context within which they worked is quite clear, and this article considers three main aspects of that context: first, the pattern of the trade which attracted Irish merchants to England; second, the role of the Irish merchants and seamen in the trade; and third, examples of individual careers of merchants and seamen who settled in England.

“Pacifism + non-resistance are by-products of some central things to which we have to testify.”Richard RobertsAlthough Rev. Richard Roberts was the chairman of the founding conference of the Fellowship of Reconciliation (FOR) at Cambridge in 1914, its first general secretary, and the key figure in its early ideology, he has largely been ignored in the secondary literature. Admittedly, Vera Brittain, in The Rebel Passion, sketched an appreciative vignette, but Jill Wallis, in her more recent FOR study Valiant for Peace, mentions him only six times without discussing his ideas. Even Roberts' daughter Gwen's biography, Grace Unfailing, fails to analyze the basis of his contribution. Yet, seven decades after attending the founding FOR conference, its only survivor, Horace Alexander, wrote that, while he could not recall the details, Richard Roberts had impressed him most, for he “got right into [him], and helped [him] find a sure foundation for life.” Alexander's comment points in the direction Martin Ceadel began to develop when he defined pacifism as a faith. But Ceadel restricted that faith to its relation to war, a restriction that was inappropriate for the early FOR. Pacifism, its leading members posited, should pervade all of life, private as well as public. Their conception of the new organization sounded like a worldview, a framework through which they viewed the world. Nevertheless, although pacifism should influence all of life, it was, as Roberts suggested, a by-product rather than the central element. Hence, rather than explicating his understanding of pacifism, at the founding conference Roberts focused on Christ's atonement as the ground of all ethics and as supplying the regulative principle of the Christian's reconciling ministry in the world. From this perspective he drew the conclusion that reconciliation implied a wide range of social activities for which the energies of youth, being used in warfare, should be mobilized in something akin to a Franciscan tertiary order. It was this call for social regeneration combined with evangelism that impressed Alexander. Only in passing Roberts declared the “simple,” pre-1914 pacifism bankrupt, while expecting that reconciliation in all spheres of life would undercut the commonly held view that war was “a hateful affair yet a noble enterprise of Christian chivalry.” This notion of reconciliation, with all that it entailed, became central. Even before the FOR had a conscription committee it had established committees for its rehabilitation of young offenders commune, for education, and for social service. The limited secondary literature has generally ignored these committees and failed to analyze the notion of reconciliation, focusing instead on the by-product and on conscientious objectors. Methodologically, Ceadel defined the FOR as quietist, and compared to the No-Conscription Fellowship (NCF) that would be quite accurate. Indeed, for while the FOR encouraged its members to be politically involved—it had a political group committee—it shied away from being a political pressure group, regarding the NCF tactics incompatible with reconciliation. Although its methodology was quietist, its ideology was radical, aiming at the transformation of society. In order to understand this largely Roberts-influenced reconciliation ideology, it is necessary to take a closer look at Roberts' worldview.

The burrowing brittle-star Acrocnida brachiata has so far been regarded as a single, easily identifiable species. Recent studies showed habitat-related differences in maximum size, life span, breeding time and recruitment between intertidal and subtidal populations, which at first were attributed to environmental effects on individuals within the same species. Molecular data, however, strongly suggested the existence of two distinct lineages and ultimately two cryptic species with clear bathymetric segregation. Morphological evidence had so far not been presented, because any differences were interpreted as intraspecific variation. We collected A. brachiata from intertidal and subtidal habitats at the coast of Brittany, France, and examined 15 specimens of each group externally by SEM. A key character of A. brachiata is that the scales at the edge of the disc and on the ventral side are conically enlarged. Intertidal individuals showed a sparser disc scalation, more spine-like than conical ventral disc scales and spatulate, distally widened arm spines. In addition, we dissected several specimens of different size and examined the internal skeleton by SEM. The oral plates showed a rib-like structure on their abradial face that differs between individuals from either habitat. Subtidal specimens have fewer ribs than intertidal ones. These consistent differences support the existence of two species within A. brachiata. To describe the second species, we needed to establish the identity of A. brachiata. We describe a neotype, because no type material has been preserved since it was first described; it corresponds mainly to subtidal samples. The new species is described as Acrocnida spatulispina sp. nov. The taxonomic status of Acrocnida has been debated over the years with reference to its close affinities with Amphiura chiajei. We compared the species of Acrocnida with A. chiajei and Amphiura filiformis and found that Acrocnida is indeed morphologically similar to A. chiajei, among other characters by a similar oral plate structure, whereas A. filiformis differs greatly from Acrocnida as well as A. chiajei. Most strikingly, it has a different type of oral plate. These findings indicate that fundamental taxonomic changes may need to be made in the family Amphiuridae in the future.

Tomato chlorotic dwarf viroid (TCDVd) is a pospiviroid found naturally infecting tomato (Solanum lycopersicum L.) (3) and several ornamentals such as Brugmansia, petunia (1), and trailing verbena (4). Initially identified in North America (3), it has been reported from India, Europe (the Netherlands and United Kingdom), and Japan. At the end of 2007, 20 to 25% of tomato plants within a group of greenhouses in the Brittany Region of France were observed with top bunching, leaf curling, and epinasty symptoms. Reverse transcription (RT)-PCR with a primer pair specific for several pospiviroids (5′GGGGAAACCTGGAGCGA3′ and 5′GGGGATCCCTGAAGCGC3′) amplified the correctly sized fragment (approximately 360 bp) from total nucleic acid extracts from three symptomatic plants. The sequence of the uncloned amplification product (GenBank Accession No. EU729744) was determined, together with that of five cloned cDNAs. All sequences were highly related with a total of three mutations in these six sequences and they showed 96.9% (GQ169709 and AY372399) to 99.4% (AF162131) identity with TCDVd sequences present in GenBank. Identification of TCDVd was confirmed from the same plant samples by molecular hybridization with a Potato spindle tuber viroid (PSTVd)-specific probe (which cross-hybridizes with TCDVd to a certain extent) and by PCR with the PSTVd/TCDVd-specific 2A-1S primer pair (3) and sequencing of the amplified fragment. The French isolate is most closely related to the original tomato isolate from Canada (GenBank Accession No. AF162131). In a grow-out test involving 2,500 seeds from the original seed lot from which the symptomatic plants were derived, 2 of the 250 pools of 10 plants tested positive for TCDVd infection with the 3H1-2H1 primer pair (2). The sequence of the amplified product proved identical to the isolate detected in the original greenhouse plants, indicating a low level of seed transmission. As with other pospiviroids, which appear to be more and more frequently reported in greenhouse tomatoes, possible sources of infection include contaminated seeds, as seem to be the case in this first outbreak, and also transfer to tomatoes from infected ornamental hosts. This is, to the best of our knowledge, the first report of TCDVd in tomato in France. References: (1) T. James et al. Plant Pathol. 57:400, 2008. (2) A. M. Shamloul et al. Can. J. Plant Pathol. 19:89, 1997. (3) R. P. Singh et al. J. Gen. Virol. 80:2823, 1999. 4) R. P. Singh et al. Plant Dis. 90:1457, 2006.

The cleptoparasitic bee genus Triepeolus is a widespread, species-rich group that has never been revised throughout its geographic range. Herein I review 103 species of Triepeolus, including all but those that belong to the newly defined Triepeolus verbesinae and Triepeolus simplex species groups (these will be the topic of a subsequent paper). I present three keys to the species, which together cover the genus throughout its range in the New World; the keys are to the females of North and Central America, the males and females from Eastern North America, and the males and females from South America and the Caribbean. I propose the following 37 new species: Triepeolus antiochensis, T. argentimus, T. argus, T. bimorulus, T. charlesi, T. circumculus, T. claytoni, T. cruciformis, T. diffusus, T. dilutus, T. edwardi, T. engeli, T. exilicurvus, T. flavigradus, T. fulgidus, T. griswoldi, T. interruptus, T. isohedrus, T. jennieae, T. joliae, T. lateralis, T. margaretae, T. mauropygus, T. melanarius, T. micheneri, T. nayaritensis, T. parkeri, T. partitus, T. parvidiversipes, T. parvus, T. perpictus, T. phaeopygus, T. punctoclypeus, T. quadratus, T. simulatus, T. vernus, and T. warriti, and propose the new combinations Triepeolus laticeps (Friese), Triepeolus tepanecus (Cresson) and Triepeolus zacatecus (Cresson). I newly synonymize 45 of the 169 previously proposed Triepeolus names, for a total of 51 synonymies: T. alachuensis Mitchell under T. rufithorax Graenicher; Epeolus albopictus Cockerell, E. costaricensis Friese, and E. flavocinctus Friese under T. aztecus (Cresson); T. alpestris Cockerell, T. amandus Cockerell, and T. vandykei Cockerell and Sandhouse under T. paenepectoralis Viereck; E. bardus Cresson, T. mesillae Cockerell, and T. pimarum Cockerell under T. distinctus (Cresson); T. brunneus Cockerell under T. balteatus Cockerell; T. charlottensis Mitchell under T. brittaini Cockerell; T. cirsianus Mitchell under T. donatus (Smith); T. concinnus Cockerell under T. townsendi Cockerell; T. coquilletti Cockerell, T. helianthi arizonensis Cockerell, T. helianthi pacificus Cockerell, T. lineatulus Cockerell and Sandhouse, and T. maculiventris Cockerell under T. helianthi (Robertson); T. dichropus Cockerell, T. eldredi Cockerell, T. helianthi grandior Cockerell, T. pallidiventris Cockerell and Sandhouse, T. rectangularis Cockerell, and T. wyomingensis Cockerell under T. texanus (Cresson); T. digueti Cockerell and E. nobilis Friese under T. intrepidus (Smith); T. floridanus Mitchellunder T. georgicus Mitchell; T. fortis Cockerell, T. insolitus Cockerell, and T. trilobatus Cockerell under T. martini (Cockerell); T. foxii Cockerell under T. rufoclypeus (Fox); T. lestes Cockerell under T. subalpinus Cockerell; T. loganensis Cockerell and T. sandhousae Cockerell under T. fraserae Cockerell; T. nautlanus Cockerell under T. lunatus (Say); E. nigriceps Smith under T. robustus (Cresson); E. oswegoensis Mitchell under T. pectoralis (Robertson); T. perelegans Cockerell and T. trichopygus Cockerell and Timberlake under T. penicilliferus (Brues); T. signatus Hedicke under T. ventralis (Meade-Waldo); T. stricklandi Cockerell under T. subalpinus Cockerell; E. superbus Provancher and E. texanus nigripes Cockerell under T. remigatus (Fabricius); and E. utahensis Cockerell under T. heterurus (Cockerell and Sandhouse).

ABSTRACT While the incidence and invasiveness of type emm75 group A Streptococcus (GAS) infections increased in French Brittany during 2013, we sequenced and analyzed the genomes of three independent strains isolated in 2009, 2012, and 2014, respectively. In this short-term evolution, genomic analysis evidenced mainly the integration of new phages encoding virulence factors.

Abstract Background Cardiovascular diseases (CVD) caused 17.9 million deaths worldwide in 2016, being the world’s leading cause of death. Prevention of CVD in high-income countries is expensive and fails to reach the population at risk. In low-income countries, it is under-developed. The SPICES project implements a community-based program to improve CVD prevention in 3 European countries and 2 Sub-Saharan countries, based on using community champions to effect behavioural changes. In France, the project operates in “Pays Centre Ouest Bretagne” (COB) which is the Central West Brittany area, and a vulnerable, rural setting. The aim of this study is to assess this innovative prevention strategy versus brief advice. Methods A two-step RCT hybrid type 1 implementation study will first of all screen a population using the Non-Laboratory INTERHEART Score (NL-IHRS) and will involve health-care students at public events in the COB area until 1000 participants have been recruited. Second, a RCT will be carried out. The research team will contact each participant with an intermediate NL-IHRS in order to include them. Participants will be over 18 years of age and work or live in the COB area. Participants will be equally randomised in two groups. The intervention group will receive brief advice plus behavioural change guidance carried out by community champions. The control group will receive brief advice only. The main objective for the RCT is to assess a difference of at least 15% in the NL-IHRS between the two groups after 24 months. The primary outcome will be analysed with intention to treat. Secondary outcomes for the RCT will be assessed using validated questionnaires: the WHOQOL-BREF, the DASH Q questionnaire, the IPAQ-short; smoking level will be assessed according to the NL-IHRS scoring system; a modified self-declared alcohol consumption questionnaire has been developed and gauges will be used to assess BMI. The implementation strategy will use mixed methods: qualitative research methods and quantitative epidemiological studies. Discussion A difference in the mean NL-IHRS of 15% will provide an argument in favour of reorganising prevention policies. A substantial change would favour relocating primary prevention from healthcare professionals to lay people and the community. Trial registration Clinical Trials NCT03886064 - the study was recorded on ClinicalTrials.gov, the 22nd of March 2019.

Abstract In health promotion, the partnership between researchers and practitioners (field actors) is necessary for multiple reasons: to build intervention research together, to share our knowledge and experience, to produce new knowledge and experience, and to improve the quality of interventions, decisions... and research. In order to build this partnership and to achieve these goals, two dimensions were explored during several mixed workshops (researchers and field actors) organized in Brittany (France): their reciprocal perceptions, and what they can mutually bring to each other. During the first workshop, a facilitation technique called “the figure,” (which health educators use when they need to underscore the perceptions of a group of professionals about a specific population) shed light on mutual misconceptions and helped rectify them. During the following workshops, both groups identified their common assets, resources, difficulties and stakes. They also highlighted what they could bring to each other. Indeed, the relationship between researchers and field actors is usually considered in terms of the contributions of research to actions. However, field actors are more than simple “users” of a knowledge produced by others, they are also “producers’ of knowledge. They can contribute to define research questions, issues, hypotheses (with a social twist...); challenge the relevance and feasibility of research; promote the link and the understanding between the two separate worlds of practice and research; encourage the making of certain research protocols; facilitate experimentation; check the validity of the research projects in terms of social usefulness; make research more visible to field professionals and policy makers; and support knowledge transfer and exchange. The ways in which the partnership between researchers and health promotion actors actually enrich both categories of professionals, are detailed in this presentation. Key messages Reciprocal representations of researchers and practitioners in the field of health promotion must be highlighted to lay the foundations of their partnership. In health promotion, knowledge transfer must be understood as an exchange between researchers and field actors, the latter being experts in their domain of intervention and producers of knowledge.

What began as a simple request for a book by one of my former students, at times, has not been so simple. The student, whom I refer to as Carla (name changed), hoped to read about characters similar to herself and her friends. As a teacher, I have often tried to hook my students on reading by presenting books with characters to which they can relate. These books can help increase their overall knowledge of the world, open their minds to multiple realities and variations of the human experience and provide scenarios in which they can live vicariously. Carla’s request was a bit more complicated than I had imagined. As a “Deaf” student who attended a state school for the Deaf and who viewed herself as a member of a linguistic cultural minority, she expected to read a book with characters who used American Sign Language and who participated as members within the Deaf Community. She did not want to read didactic books about deafness but wanted books with unpredictable plots and believable characters. Having graduated from a teacher-preparation program in Deaf Education, I had read numerous books about deafness. While memoirs and biographical selections had been relatively easy to acquire and were on my bookshelf, I had not once read any fictional books for adolescents that included a deaf character. (I refer to ‘Deaf’ as representing individuals who identify in a linguistic, cultural minority group. The term ‘deaf’ is used as a more generic term given to individuals with some degree of hearing loss. In other articles, ‘deaf’ has been used pejoratively or in connection to a view by those who believe one without the sense of hearing is inferior or lacking. I do not believe or wish to imply that. ) As a High School teacher with so many additional work responsibilities outside of classroom teaching, finding fictional books with deaf characters was somewhat of a challenge. Nevertheless, after some research I was able to recommend a book that I thought would be a good summer read. Nancy Butts’ Cheshire Moon (1992) is charming book about thirteen-year-old Miranda who is saddened by her cousin’s death and furious at her parents' insistence that she speak rather than sign. The plot turns slightly mystical when the teens begin having similar dreams under the “Cheshire moon”. Yet, the story is about Miranda, a deaf girl, who struggles with communication. Without her cousin, the only member of her family who was fluent in sign language, communication is difficult and embarrassing. Miranda feels isolated, alienated, and unsure of herself. Because of the main character’s age, the book was not the best recommendation for a high school student; however, when Carla finished Cheshire Moon, she asked for another book with Deaf characters. Problem & Purpose Historically, authors have used deafness as a literary device to relay various messages about the struggles of humankind and elicit sympathy from readers (Batson & Bergman; Bergman; Burns; Krentz; Panara; Taylor, "Deaf Characters" I, II, III; Schwartz; Wilding-Diaz). In recent decades, however, the general public’s awareness of and perhaps interest in deaf people has risen along with that of our increasingly multicultural world. Educational legislation has increased awareness of the deaf as has news coverage of Gallaudet University protests. In addition, Deaf people have benefited from advances in communicative technology, such as Video Relay (VRS) and instant messaging pagers, more coordinated interpreting services and an increase in awareness of American Sign Language. Authors are incorporating more deaf characters than they did in the past. However, this increase does not necessarily translate to an increase in understanding of the deaf, nor does it translate to the most accurate, respectably, well-rounded characterization of the deaf (Pajka-West, "Perceptions"). Acquiring fictional books that include deaf characters can be time-consuming and challenging for teachers and librarians. The research examining deaf characters in fiction is extremely limited (Burns; Guella; Krentz; Wilding-Diaz). The most recent articles predominately focus on children’s literature — specifically picture books (Bailes; Brittain). Despite decades of research affirming culturally authentic children’s literature and the merits of multicultural literature, a coexisting body of research reveals the lack of culturally authentic texts (Applebee; Campbell & Wirtenberg; Ernest; Larrick; Sherriff; Taxel). Moreover, children’s books with deaf characters are used as informational depictions of deaf individuals (Bockmiller, 1980). Readers of such resource books, typically parents, teachers and their students, gain information about deafness and individuals with “disabilities” (Bockmiller, 1980; Civiletto & Schirmer, 2000). If an important purpose for deaf characters in fiction is educational and informational, then there is a need for the characters to be presented as realistic models of deaf people. If not, the readers of such fiction gain inaccurate information about deafness including reinforced negative stereotypes, as can occur in any other literature portraying cultural minorities (Pajka-West, "Perceptions"). Similar to authors’ informational depictions, writers also reveal societal understanding of groups of people through their fiction (Banfield & Wilson; Panara; Rudman). Literature has often stigmatized minority culture individuals based upon race, ethnicity, disability, gender and/or sexual orientation. While readers might recognize the negative depictions and dismiss them as harmless stereotypes, these portrayals could become a part of the unconscious of members of our society. If books continually reinforce stereotypical depictions of deaf people, individuals belonging to the group might be typecast and discouraged into a limited way of being. As an educator, I want all of my students to have unlimited opportunities for the future, not disadvantaged by stereotypes. The Study For my doctoral dissertation, I examined six contemporary adolescent literature books with deaf characters. The research methodology for this study required book selection, reader sample selection, instrument creation, book analysis, questionnaire creation, and data analysis. My research questions included: 1) Are deaf characters being presented as culturally Deaf characters or as pathologically deaf and disabled; 2) Do these readers favor deaf authors over hearing ones? If so, why; and, 3) How do deaf and hearing adult readers perceive deaf characters in adolescent literature? The Sample The book sample included 102 possible books for the study ranging from adolescent to adult selections. I selected books that were recognized as suitable for middle school or high school readers based upon the reading and interest levels established by publishers. The books also had to include main characters who are deaf and deaf characters who are human. The books selected were all realistic fiction, available to the public, and published or reissued for publication within the last fifteen years. The six books that were selected included: Nick’s Secret by C. Blatchford; A Maiden’s Grave by J. Deaver; Of Sound Mind by J. Ferris; Deaf Child Crossing by M. Matlin; Apple Is My Sign by M. Riskind; and Finding Abby by V. Scott. For the first part of my study, I analyzed these texts using the Adolescent Literature Content Analysis Check-off Form (ALCAC) which includes both pathological and cultural perspective statements derived from Deaf Studies, Disability Studies and Queer Theory. The participant sample included adult readers who fit within three categories: those who identified as deaf, those who were familiar with or had been acquaintances with deaf individuals, and those who were unfamiliar having never associated with deaf individuals. Each participant completed a Reader-Response Survey which included ten main questions derived from Deaf Studies and Schwartz’ ‘Criteria for Analyzing Books about Deafness’. The survey included both dichotomous and open-ended questions. Research Questions & Methodology Are deaf characters being presented as culturally Deaf or as pathologically deaf and disabled? In previous articles, scholars have stated that most books with deaf characters include a pathological perspective; yet, few studies actually exist to conclude this assertion. In my study, I analyzed six books to determine whether they supported the cultural or the pathological perspective of deafness. The goal was not to exclusively label a text either/or but to highlight the distinct perspectives to illuminate a discussion regarding a deaf character. As before mentioned, the ALCAC instrument incorporates relevant theories and prior research findings in reference to the portrayals of deaf characters and was developed to specifically analyze adolescent literature with deaf characters. Despite the historical research regarding deaf characters and due to the increased awareness of deaf people and American Sign Language, my initial assumption was that the authors of the six adolescent books would present their deaf characters as more culturally ‘Deaf’. This was confirmed for the majority of the books. I believed that an outsider, such as a hearing writer, could carry out an adequate portrayal of a culture other than his own. In the past, scholars did not believe this was the case; however, the results from my study demonstrated that the majority of the hearing authors presented the cultural perspective model. Initially shocking, the majority of deaf authors incorporated the pathological perspective model. I offer three possible reasons why these deaf authors included more pathological perspective statements while the hearing authors include more cultural perspective statements: First, the deaf authors have grown up deaf and perhaps experienced more scenarios similar to those presented from the pathological perspective model. Even if the deaf authors live more culturally Deaf lifestyles today, authors include their experiences growing up in their writing. Second, there are less deaf characters in the books written by deaf authors and more characters and more character variety in the books written by the hearing authors. When there are fewer deaf characters interacting with other deaf characters, these characters tend to interact with more hearing characters who are less likely to be aware of the cultural perspective. And third, with decreased populations of culturally Deaf born to culturally Deaf individuals, it seems consistent that it may be more difficult to obtain a book from a Deaf of Deaf author. Similarly, if we consider the Deaf person’s first language is American Sign Language, Deaf authors may be spending more time composing stories and poetry in American Sign Language and less time focusing upon English. This possible lack of interest may make the number of ‘Deaf of Deaf’ authors, or culturally Deaf individuals raised by culturally Deaf parents, who pursue and are successful publishing a book in adolescent literature low. At least in adolescent literature, deaf characters, as many other minority group characters, are being included in texts to show young people our increasingly multicultural world. Adolescent literature readers can now become aware of a range of deaf characters, including characters who use American Sign Language, who attend residential schools for the Deaf, and even who have Deaf families. Do the readers favor deaf authors over hearing ones? A significant part of my research was based upon the perceptions of adult readers of adolescent literature with deaf characters. I selected participants from a criterion sampling and divided them into three groups: 1. Adults who had attended either a special program for the deaf or a residential school for the deaf, used American Sign Language, and identified themselves as deaf were considered for the deaf category of the study; 2. Adults who were friends, family members, co-workers or professionals in fields connected with individuals who identify themselves as deaf were considered for the familiar category of the study; and, 3. hearing adults who were not aware of the everyday experiences of deaf people and who had not taken a sign language class, worked with or lived with a deaf person were considered for the unfamiliar category of the study. Nine participants were selected for each group totaling 27 participants (one participant from each of the groups withdrew before completion, leaving eight participants from each of the groups to complete the study). To elicit the perspectives of the participants, I developed a Reader Response survey which was modeled after Schwartz’s ‘Criteria for Analyzing Books about Deafness’. I assumed that the participants from Deaf and Familiar groups would prefer the books written by the deaf authors while the unfamiliar participants would act more as a control group. This was not confirmed through the data. In fact, the Deaf participants along with the participants as a whole preferred the books written by the hearing authors as better describing their perceptions of realistic deaf people, for presenting deaf characters adequately and realistically, and for the hearing authors’ portrayals of deaf characters matching with their perceptions of deaf people. In general, the Deaf participants were more critical of the deaf authors while the familiar participants, although as a group preferred the books by the hearing authors, were more critical of the hearing authors. Participants throughout all three groups mentioned their preference for a spectrum of deaf characters. The books used in this study that were written by hearing authors included a variety of characters. For example, Riskind’s Apple Is My Sign includes numerous deaf students at a school for the deaf and the main character living within a deaf family; Deaver’s A Maiden’s Grave includes deaf characters from a variety of backgrounds attending a residential school for the deaf and only a few hearing characters; and Ferris’ Of Sound Mind includes two deaf families with two CODA or hearing teens. The books written by the deaf authors in this study include only a few deaf characters. For example, Matlin’s Deaf Child Crossing includes two deaf girls surrounded by hearing characters; Scott’s Finding Abby includes more minor deaf characters but readers learn about these characters from the hearing character’s perspective. For instance, the character Jared uses sign language and attends a residential school for the deaf but readers learn this information from his hearing mother talking about him, not from the deaf character’s words. Readers know that he communicates through sign language because we are told that he does; however, the only communication readers are shown is a wave from the child; and, Blatchford’s Nick’s Secret includes only one deaf character. With the fewer deaf characters it is nearly impossible for the various ways of being deaf to be included in the book. Thus, the preference for the books by the hearing authors is more likely connected to the preference for a variety of deaf people represented. How do readers perceive deaf characters? Participants commented on fourteen main and secondary characters. Their perceptions of these characters fall into six categories: the “normal” curious kid such as the characters Harry (Apple Is My Sign), Jeremy (Of Sound Mind) and Jared (Finding Abby); the egocentric spoiled brat such as Palma (Of Sound Mind) and Megan (Deaf Child Crossing); the advocate such as Harry’s mother (Apple Is My Sign) and Susan (A Maiden’s Grave); those dependent upon the majority culture such as Palma (Of Sound Mind) and Lizzie (Deaf Child Crossing); those isolated such as Melissa (Finding Abby), Ben (Of Sound Mind), Nick (Nick’s Secret) and Thomas (Of Sound Mind); and, those searching for their identities such as Melanie (A Maiden’s Grave) and Abby (Finding Abby). Overall, participants commented more frequently about the deaf characters in the books by the hearing authors (A Maiden’s Grave; Of Sound Mind; Apple Is My Sign) and made more positive comments about the culturally Deaf male characters, particularly Ben Roper, Jeremy and Thomas of Of Sound Mind, and Harry of Apple Is My Sign. Themes such as the characters being dependent and isolated from others did arise. For example, Palma in Of Sound Mind insists that her hearing son act as her personal interpreter so that she can avoid other hearing people. Examples to demonstrate the isolation some of the deaf characters experience include Nick of Nick’s Secret being the only deaf character in his story and Ben Roper of Of Sound Mind being the only deaf employee in his workplace. While these can certainly be read as negative situations the characters experience, isolation is a reality that resonates in some deaf people’s experiences. With communicative technology and more individuals fluent in American Sign Language, some deaf individuals may decide to associate more with individuals in the larger culture. One must interpret purposeful isolation such as Ben Roper’s (Of Sound Mind) case, working in a location that provides him with the best employment opportunities, differently than Melissa Black’s (Finding Abby) isolating feelings of being left out of family dinner discussions. Similarly, variations in characterization including the egocentric, spoiled brat and those searching for their identities are common themes in adolescent literature with or without deaf characters being included. Positive examples of deaf characters including the roles of the advocate such as Susan (A Maiden’s Grave) and Harry’s mother (Apple Is My Sign), along with descriptions of regular everyday deaf kids increases the varieties of deaf characters. As previously stated, my study included an analysis based on literary theory and prior research. At that time, unless the author explicitly told readers in a foreword or a letter to readers, I had no way of truly knowing why the deaf character was included and why the author made such decisions. This uncertainty of the author’s decisions changed for me in 2007 with the establishment of my educational blog. Beginning to Blog When I started my educational blog Deaf Characters in Adolescent Literature in February 2007, I did not plan to become a blogger nor did I have any plans for my blog. I simply opened a Blogger account and added a list of 106 books with deaf characters that was connected to my research. Once I started blogging on a regular basis, I discovered an active audience who not only read what I wrote but who truly cared about my research. Blogging had become a way for me to keep my research current; since my blog was about deaf characters in adolescent literature, it became an advocacy tool that called attention to authors and books that were not widely publicized; and, it enabled me to become part of a cyber community made up of other bloggers and readers. After a few months of blogging on a weekly basis, I began to feel a sense of obligation to research and post my findings. While continuing to post to my blog, I have acquired more information about my research topic and even received advance reader copies prior to the books’ publication dates. This enables me to discuss the most current books. It also enables my readers to learn about such books. My blog acts as free advertisement for the publishing companies and authors. I currently have 195 contemporary books with deaf characters and over 36 author and professional interviews. While the most rewarding aspect of blogging is connecting with readers, there have been some major highlights in the process. As I stated, I had no way of knowing why the deaf character was included in the books until I began interviewing the authors. I had hoped that the hearing authors of books with deaf characters would portray their characters realistically but I had not realized the authors’ personal connections to actual deaf people. For instance, Delia Ray, Singing Hands, wrote about a Deaf preacher and his family. Her book was based on her grandfather who was a Deaf preacher and leading pioneer in the Deaf Community. Ray is not the only hearing author who has a personal connection to deaf people. Other examples include: Jean Ferris, Of Sound Mind, who earned a degree in Speech Pathology and Audiology. Ferris’ book includes only two hearing characters, the majority are Deaf. All of her characters are also fluent in American Sign Language; Jodi Cutler Del Dottore, Rally Caps, who includes a deaf character named Luca who uses a cochlear implant. Luca is based on Cutler Del Dottore’s son, Jordan, who also has a cochlear implant; finally, Jacqueline Woodson, Feathers, grew up in a community that included deaf people who did not use sign language. As an adult, she met members of the Deaf Community and began learning American Sign Language herself. Woodson introduces readers to Sean who is attractive, funny, and intelligent. In my study, I noted that all of the deaf characters where not diverse based upon race, ethnicity, and socio-economic status (Pajka-West, "Perceptions"). Sean is the first Deaf American-African character in adolescent literature who uses sign language to communicate. Another main highlight is finding Deaf authors who do not receive the mainstream press that other authors might receive. For example, Ann Clare LeZotte, T4, introduces readers to main character Paula Becker, a thirteen year old deaf girl who uses sign language and lipreading to communicate. Through verse, we learn of Paula’s life in Germany during Hitler’s time as she goes into hiding since individuals with physical and mental disabilities were being executed under the orders of Hitler’s Tiergartenstrasse 4 (T4). One additional highlight is that I learn about insider tips and am then able to share this information with my blog readers. In one instance I began corresponding with Marvel Comic’s David Mack, the creator of Echo, a multilingual, biracial, Deaf comic book character who debuted in Daredevil and later The New Avengers. In comics, it is Marvel who owns the character; while Echo was created for Daredevil by Mack, she later appears in The New Avengers. In March 2008, discussion boards were buzzing since issue #39 would include original creator, Mack, among other artists. To make it less complicated for those who do not follow comics, the issue was about whether or not Echo had become a skrull, an alien who takes over the body of the character. This was frightening news since potentially Echo could become a hearing skrull. I just did not believe that Mack would let that happen. My students and I held numerous discussions about the implications of Marvel’s decisions and finally I sent Mack an email. While he could not reveal the details of the issue, he did assure me that my students and I would be pleased. I’m sure there was a collective sigh from readers once his email was published on the blog. Final Thoughts While there have been pejorative depictions of the deaf in literature, the portrayals of deaf characters in adolescent literature have become much more realistic in the last decade. Authors have personal connections with actual deaf individuals which lend to the descriptions of their deaf characters; they are conducting more detailed research to develop their deaf characters; and, they appear to be much more aware of the Deaf Community than they were in the past. A unique benefit of the genre is that authors of adolescent literature often give the impression of being more available to the readers of their books. Authors often participate in open dialogues with their fans through social networking sites or discussion boards on their own websites. After posting interviews with the authors on my blog, I refer readers to the author’s on site whether it through personal blogs, websites, Facebook or Twitter pages. While hearing authors’ portrayals now include a spectrum of deaf characters, we must encourage Deaf and Hard of Hearing writers to include more deaf characters in their works. Consider again my student Carla and her longing to find books with deaf characters. Deaf characters in fiction act as role models for young adults. A positive portrayal of deaf characters benefits deaf adolescents whether or not they see themselves as biologically deaf or culturally deaf. Only through on-going publishing, more realistic and positive representations of the deaf will occur. References Bailes, C.N. "Mandy: A Critical Look at the Portrayal of a Deaf Character in Children’s Literature." Multicultural Perspectives 4.4 (2002): 3-9. Batson, T. "The Deaf Person in Fiction: From Sainthood to Rorschach Blot." Interracial Books for Children Bulletin 11.1-2 (1980): 16-18. Batson, T., and E. Bergman. Angels and Outcasts: An Anthology of Deaf Characters in Literature. Washington, D.C.: Gallaudet University Press (1985). Bergman, E. "Literature, Fictional characters in." In J.V. Van Cleve (ed.), Gallaudet Encyclopedia of Deaf People & Deafness. Vol. 2. Washington, D.C.: McGraw Hill, 1987. 172-176. Brittain, I. "An Examination into the Portrayal of Deaf Characters and Deaf Issues in Picture Books for Children." Disability Studies Quarterly 24.1 (Winter 2004). 24 Apr. 2005 < http://www.dsq-sds.org >. Burns, D.J. An Annotated Checklist of Fictional Works Which Contain Deaf Characters. Unpublished master’s thesis. Washington, D.C.: Gallaudet University,1950. Campbell, P., and J. Wirtenberg. How Books Influence Children: What the Research Shows. Interracial Books for Children Bulletin 11.6 (1980): 3-6. Civiletto, C.L., and B.R. Schirmer. "Literature with Characters Who Are Deaf." The Dragon Lode 19.1 (Fall 2000): 46-49. Guella, B. "Short Stories with Deaf Fictional Characters." American Annals of the Deaf 128.1 (1983): 25-33. Krentz, C. "Exploring the 'Hearing Line': Deafness, Laughter, and Mark Twain." In S. L. Snyder, B. J. Brueggemann, and R. Garland-Thomson, eds., Disability Studies: Enabling the Humanities. New York: Modern Language Association of America, 2002. 234-247. Larrick, N. "The All-White World of Children's Books. Saturday Review 11 (1965): 63-85. Pajka-West, S. “The Perceptions of Deaf Characters in Adolescent Literature”. The ALAN Review 34.3 (Summer 2007): 39-45. ———. "The Portrayals and Perceptions of Deaf Characters in Adolescent Literature." Ph.D. dissertation. University of Virginia, 2007. ———. "Interview with Deaf Author Ann Clare LeZotte about T4, Her Forthcoming Book Told in Verse." Deaf Characters in Adolescent Literature, 5 Aug. 2008. < http://pajka.blogspot.com/ 2008/08/interview-with-deaf-author-ann-clare.html >.———. "Interview with Delia Ray, Author of Singing Hands." Deaf Characters in Adolescent Literature, 23 Aug. 2007. < http://pajka.blogspot.com/ 2007/08/interview-with-delia-ray-author-of.html >.———. "Interview with Jacqueline Woodson, author of Feathers." Deaf Characters in Adolescent Literature, 29 Sep. 2007. < http://pajka.blogspot.com/ 2007/09/interview-with-jacqueline-woodson.html >. ———. "Interview with Jodi Cutler Del Dottore, author of Rally Caps." Deaf Characters in Adolescent Literature, 13 Aug. 2007. < http://pajka.blogspot.com/ 2007/08/interview-with-jodi-cutler-del-dottore.html >. Panara, R. "Deaf Characters in Fiction and Drama." The Deaf American 24.5 (1972): 3-8. Schwartz, A.V. "Books Mirror Society: A Study of Children’s Materials." Interracial Books for Children Bulletin 11.1-2 (1980): 19-24. Sherriff, A. The Portrayal of Mexican American Females in Realistic Picture Books (1998-2004). University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill: 2005. Taxel, J. "The Black Experience in Children's Fiction: Controversies Surrounding Award Winning Books." Curriculum Inquiry 16 (1986): 245-281. Taylor, G.M. "Deaf Characters in Short Stories: A Selective Bibliography. The Deaf American 26.9 (1974): 6-8. ———. "Deaf Characters in Short Stories: A Selective Bibliography II." The Deaf American 28.11 (1976): 13-16.———. "Deaf Characters in Short Stories: A Selective Bibliography III." The Deaf American 29.2 (1976): 27-28. Wilding-Diaz, M.M. Deaf Characters in Children’s Books: How Are They Portrayed? Unpublished master’s thesis. Provo, Utah: Brigham Young University, 1993.———. "Deaf Characters in Children’s Books: How Are They Perceived?" In Gallaudet University College for Continuing Education and B.D. Snider (eds.), Journal: Post Milan ASL & English Literacy: Issues, Trends & Research Conference Proceedings, 20-22 Oct. 1993.Adolescent Fiction Books Blatchford, C. Nick’s Secret. Minneapolis, MN: Lerner, 2000. Deaver, J. A Maiden’s Grave. New York: Signet, 1996. Ferris, J. Of Sound Mind. New York: Sunburst, 2004. Matlin, M. Deaf Child Crossing. New York: Aladdin Paperbacks, 2004. Riskind, M. Apple Is My Sign. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin, 1981. Scott, V. Finding Abby. Hillsboro, OR: Butte, 2000.

The public discourse on asylum seekers in the past year or so and the generation of hatred against them contains a strong linguistic element marking clear boundaries between 'ourselves' and the asylum seekers. I will discuss this linguistic dimension, which calls for vigilance and critical awareness in future discourses of exclusion. One of John Howard's political platforms in the victorious campaign, in which he replaced Paul Keating as Prime Minister was to liberate Australia of the 'political correctness' imposed by his opponents. In this respect, at least, he came close to the far right in Australian politics. For instance, he said of far right ex-Labor Independent Graeme Campbell: 'His attacks on political correctness echo many of the attacks I made on political correctness' (The Age, 18 June 1996). 'Political correctness' is a negative term for 'inclusive language' -- avoiding or being encouraged by stylistic or policy guidelines to avoid the choice of lexical items that may be offensive to sections of the population. The converse is the discourse of exclusion. Whether it excludes on the basis of ethnicity, religion, gender or any other basis, the discourse of exclusion creates a division between 'us' and 'them', partly on the basis of different lexical items for the two groups (Clyne, Establishing Linguistic Markers of Racism). Asylum seekers have been projected by politicians (especially those in the government) as not only different from the Australian people and therefore not belonging, but also as a threat to the Australian people. To demonstrate this projection it is worth considering some of the terms and formulations of exclusion and division that have been used. As Mungo MacCallum (41) argues, 'The first step was to get rid of the term 'refugee'; it has a long and honourable history and is generally used to describe people forced to flee from their homelands.' It might be more accurate to say that the government limited its use so that no honourable associations could be made with the current group of asylum seekers. There had been newspaper columns which had focused on the achievements and contributions to the nation of previous vintages of refugees; some communities consisted largely or entirely of refugees and their descendants, including some who had given longstanding support to the Liberal Party. The semantic narrowing of 'refugee' was illustrated in the Prime Minister's pronouncement (Herald-Sun, 8 Oct. 2001) when it was alleged that asylum seekers had thrown their children overboard: 'Genuine refugees don't do that'. Thus, refugee status in the public discourse was being related to their moral representation and not to any consideration of the threat of persecution in their homeland. While refugee status was officially a legal issue, when the Prime Minister interacted with the media and the voters, the asylum seekers were already excluded by guided popular opinion, for 'I don't want people like that in Australia'. The exclusionary line based on moral grounds was echoed by Alexander Downer (The Age, 8 Oct. 2001), who described the asylum seekers as lacking the civilized behaviour to be worthy to live in Australia: 'Any civilized person wouldn't dream of treating their own children that way'. So what could the asylum seekers be called? MacCallum (2002: 43) attributes to Philip Ruddock the verbal masterstroke' of reducing the identification of the asylum seekers to a 'one word label': 'unlawful'. However, this identification came in a number of facets. They were described on both sides of parliament as 'illegals', illegal arrivals', 'illegal immigrants' (e.g. Hansard, 29 Aug. 2001). All of these terms encourage the view of intrusion. In actual fact, whether people's arrival had been authorized by the government or not, there is no such thing as an 'illegal refugee'. Other descriptions ranged from 'occasional tourists' (Gary Hardgrave, Minister for Citizenship and Multicultural Affairs; House of Representatives, 30 Aug. 2001) '; to 'café latte poor' (Senator Robert Ray, former Labor Minister for Immigration), which assumes that only the poor can be refugees. Such descriptions suggested that the asylum seekers were dishonest imposters. But the term 'illegals' lowers asylum seekers to the status of 'non-people' and this gives others the licence to treat them in a way that may be different to those who are 'people'. This is reinforced by the fact that the asylum seekers are neither nice nor poor, and therefore cannot expect to attract support from the government (and, to a large extent from the opposition). The 'bully' image of the asylum seekers was propagated by comments on the behaviour of those allegedly harming their children, described by Ruddock as 'carefully planned and premeditated' (The Age, 14 Feb. 2002). It was reinforced by Peter Reith, who described the action as a 'premeditated attempt to force their way into the country' (The Age, 8 Aug. 2001). When Kim Beazley said: 'It is not unhumanitarian (sic) to try to deter criminals' (The Age, 8 Nov. 2001), he left it to our imagination or choice whether, in supporting the government's position, he wanted to defend us from the asylum seekers or from the 'people smugglers' of whom they are victims. However he put the asylum seekers directly or by association into the criminal category. The suggestion that the asylum seekers might be economic migrants masquerading as refugees enabled the government to differentiate them from 'battlers', who are likely to support action against any 'crooks' who will take the little the battlers have away from them. So far asylum seekers as 'bad cruel people' have been differentiated from 'genuine refugees' of the past, from a nation of 'civilized', gentle, child-loving people, and from Aussie 'battlers'. 'Queue-jumper' is a term that differentiates asylum seekers from both the 'mainstream' and the succession of migrants who have come at various times. This term occurs in several debates (used e.g. by Senator Ron Boswell and Kay Ellison, 29 Aug. 2001). Firstly, it invokes the twin cultural concepts of fairness and orderliness. The 'destruction' of 'political correctness' and especially Pauline Hanson's expressed views regenerated the notion that the needy were unfairly getting something for nothing that others had to work for. This included Aborigines, recently arrived migrants or refugees, single mothers, and even the disabled. The fact that there were no queues in Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran, or the Palestinian Territories in which people could stand to fill in immigration applications was not taken into account. Queuing is very much an Anglo concept of orderliness, reflecting the strong linear emphasis in British-derived cultures, even in academic discourse and school essays and in formal meetings as I have discussed elsewhere (e.g. Clyne, Inter-cultural Communication at Work). In another sense, the 'queue jumper' is a repugnant person to migrants of all backgrounds. The impression is gained from the designation that asylum seekers are taking the place in a tight quota of their relatives (or people like them) waiting to be admitted under the family reunion scheme. In actual fact, the number of asylum seekers recognized as refugees does not affect other categories such as family reunion, and in fact, the quota for the humanitarian category wasn't nearly filled in 2001. The government's handling of asylum seekers is thus underpinned by two types of moral principles -- the schoolmaster principle -- They have to behave themselves, otherwise they will be punished, and the schoolchild principle (based on the perception)-- It ain't fair; he pushed in. Another term that has played an important role in the asylum seeker discourse is 'border protection'. This term featured prominently in the 2001 election campaign, when both major parties vied to persuade voters that they were best equipped to protect Australia. It lives on in the public discourse and relates both to contemporary international politics and to traditional Australian xenophobia. The 2001 federal election was fought in the context of the terrorist attacks on the twin towers and the American-led coalition against international terrorism. Thus, the term 'border protection' was necessarily ambiguous. Was it terrorists or asylum seekers who were being kept out? Or were they perhaps the same people? Even though many of the asylum seekers were claiming to be escaping from persecution by the terrorists or those who were harbouring them. Maybe the linking association is with Islam? It is possible that 'border protection' (like the Liberal Party's 1998 election slogan 'For all of us') is also ambiguous enough to attract opponents of multiculturalism without alienating its supporters.2 Boat-loads of new arrivals have long caused fear among Australians. For much of Australia's British history, we were terrified of invasions from our north -- not just the 'yellow peril', it even included the Russians and the French, from whom Australians were protected by fortresses along the coast. This was immortalized in the final verse of the politically incorrect early version of Advance Australia Fair: Should foreign foe e'er sight our coast Or dare a foot to land, We'll rouse to arms like siers of yore To guard our native strand; Brittania then shall surely know, Beyond wide oceans roll Her sons in fair Australia's land Still keep a British soul, In joyful strains, etc. In fact, the entire original version of Advance Australia Fair has a predominantly exclusionist theme which contrasts with the inclusive values embodied in the present national anthem. While our 'politically correct' version has 'boundless plains to share' with 'those who've come across the seas', they are only open to 'loyal sons' in the original, which is steeped in colonial jingoism. The gender-inclusive 'Australians all' replaces 'Australia's sons' as the opening appellation. Are our politicians leading us back from an inclusive and open identity? I do not have space to go into the opposing discourse, which has come largely from academic social scientists, former prime ministers, and ministers of both major parties, current politicians of the minor parties, and journalists from the broadsheet press and the ABC. Objections are often raised against the 'demonisation' and 'dehumanisation' of the asylum seekers. In this short article, I have tried to demonstrate the techniques used to do this. The use of 'illegal' and 'queue jumper' to represent asylum seekers differentiates them from 'refugees' and 'migrants' and has removed them from any category with whom existing Australians should show solidarity. What makes them different is that they are cruel, even to their children, dishonest and imposters, badly behaved, unfair and disorderly – enemies of the Australian people, who want to deprive them of their sovereignty. It is interesting to see this in contrast to the comment of a spokesperson from Rural Australians for Refugees (AM, Radio National, 26 Jan. 2002): 'We can't recognise our country anymore which was based on fairness and fair go'. Notes This is based on 'When the discourse of hatred becomes respectable – does the linguist have a responsibility?', a paper presented at the Australian Linguistic Society conference at Macquarie University, July 2001. Some of the same data was discussed in 'The discourse excluding asylum seekers – have we been brainwashed?' Australian Language Matters 10: 3-10, by the same author. Research assistance from Felicity Grey is gratefully acknowledged. 2 I thank Felicity Meakins for this suggestion. References Clyne, Michael. Inter-Cultural Communication at Work. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Clyne, Michael. 'Establishing Linguistic Markers of Racism.' Language and Peace. Ed. C. Schäffner and A.Wenden. Dartmouth: Aldershot, 1995. 111-18. MacCallum, Mungo. Girt by Sea (Quarterly Essay). Melbourne: Black, 2002. Markus, Andrew. 'John Howard and the Naturalization of Bigotry.' The Resurgence of Racism. Ed. G.Gray and C.Winter. Clayton: Monash University, Department of History (Monash Publications in History 24), 1997. 79-86. Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Clyne, Michael. "Saving Us From Them" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.5 (2002). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/mc/0210/Clyne.html &gt. Chicago Style Clyne, Michael, "Saving Us From Them" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, no. 5 (2002), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/mc/0210/Clyne.html &gt ([your date of access]). APA Style Clyne, Michael. (2002) Saving Us From Them. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5(5). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/mc/0210/Clyne.html &gt ([your date of access]).

IntroductionIn the contemporary West, experiences of time are shaped by—and inextricably linked to—the nature of media production and consumption. In Derrida and Steigler’s estimation, teletechnologies bring time “into play” and thus produce time as an “artifact”, that is, a knowable product (3). How and why time becomes “artifactually” produced, according to these thinkers, is a result of the various properties of media production; media ensure that “gestures” (which can be understood here as the cultural moments marked as significant in some way, especially public ones) are registered. Being so, time is constrained, “formatted, initialised” by the matrix of the media system (3). Subsequently, because the media apparatus undergirds the Western imaginary, so too, the media apparatus undergirds the Western concept of time. We can say, in the radically changing global mediascape then, digital culture performs and generates ontological shifts that rewrite the relationship between media, time, and experience. This point lends itself to the significance of the role of both new media platforms and new media texts in reconfiguring understandings between past, present, and future timescapes.There are various ways in which new media texts and platforms work upon experiences of time. In the following, I will focus on just one of these ways: narrativity. By examining a ‘new media’ text, I elucidate how new media narratives imagine timescapes that are constructed through metaphors of ‘confetti’ or ‘snow’, as opposed to more traditional lineal metaphors like ‘rivers’ or ‘streams’ (see Augustine Sedgewick’s “Against Flows” for more critical thinking on the relationship between history, narrative, and the ‘flows’ metaphor). I focus on the revisioning of narrative structure in the Netflix series The Haunting of Hill House (2018) from its original form in the 1959 novel by Shirley Jackson. The narrative revisioning from the novel to the televisual both demonstrates and manifests emergent conceptualisations of time through the creative play of temporal multi-flows, which are contemporaneous yet fragmented.The first consideration is the shift in textual format. However, the translocation of the narrative from a novel to a televisual text is important, but not the focus here. Added to this, I deliberately move toward a “general narrative analysis” (Cobley 28), which has the advantage of focusing onmechanisms which may be integral to linguistically or visually-based genres without becoming embroiled in parochial questions to do with the ‘effectiveness’ of given modes, or the relative ‘value’ of different genres. This also allows narrative analysis to track the development of a specified process as well as its embodiment in a range of generic and technological forms. (Cobley 28)It should be also be noted from the outset that I am not suggesting that fragmented narrative constructions and representations were never imagined or explored prior to this new media age. Quite the contrary if we think of Modernist writers such as Virginia Woolf (Lodwick; Haggland). Rather, it is to claim that this abstraction is emerging in the mainstream entertainment media in greater contest with the dominant and more historically entrenched version of ‘time as a construct’ that is characterised through Realist narratology as linear and flowing only one way. As I will explore below, the reasons for this are largely related to shifts in everyday media consumption brought about by digital culture. There are two reasons why I specifically utilise Netflix’s series The Haunting of Hill House as a fulcrum from which to lever arguments about new media and the contemporary experience of time. First, as a web series, it embodies some of the pertinent conventions of the digital media landscape, both diegetically and also through practices of production and consumption by way of new time-shifting paradigms (see Leaver). I focus on the former in this article, but the latter is fruitful ground for critical consideration. For example, Netflix itself, as a platform, has somewhat destabilised normative temporal routines, such as in the case of ‘binge-watching’ where audiences ‘lose’ time similarly to gamblers in the casino space. Second, the fact that there are two iterations of the same story—one a novel and one a televisual text—provide us with a comparative benchmark from which to make further assertions about the changing nature of media and time from the mid-century to a post-millennium digital mediascape. Though it should be noted, my discussion will focus on the nature and quality of the contemporary framework, and I use the 1959 novel as a frame of reference only rather than examining its rich tapestry in its own right (for critique on the novel itself, see Wilson; see Roberts).Media and the Production of Time-SenseThere is a remarkable canon of literature detailing the relationship between media and the production of time, which can help us place this discussion in a theoretical framework. I am limited by space, but I will engage with some of the most pertinent material to set out a conceptual map. Markedly, from here, I refer to the Western experience of time as a “time-sense” following E.P. Thompson’s work (80). Following Thompson’s language, I use the term “time-sense” to refer to “our inward notation of time”, characterised by the rhythms of our “technological conditioning” systems, whether those be the forces of labour, media, or otherwise (80). Through the textual analysis of Hill House to follow, I will offer ways in which the technological conditioning of the new media system both constructs and shapes time-sense in terms related to a constellation of moments, or, to use a metaphor from the Netflix series itself, like “confetti” or “snow” (“Silence Lay Steadily”).However, in discussing the production of time-sense through new media mechanisms, note that time-sense is not an abstraction but is still linked to our understandings of the literal nature of time-space. For example, Alvin Toffler explains that, in its most simple construction, “Time can be conceived as the intervals during which events occur” (21). However, we must be reminded that events must first occur within the paradigm of experience. That is to say that matters of ‘duration’ cannot be unhinged from the experiential or phenomenological accounts of those durations, or in Toffler’s words, in an echo of Thompson, “Man’s [sic] perception of time is closely linked with his internal rhythms” (71). In the 1970s, Toffler commented upon the radical expansion of global systems of communications that produces the “twin forces of acceleration and transience”, which “alter the texture of existence, hammering our lives and psyches into new and unfamiliar shapes” (18). This simultaneous ‘speeding up’ (which he calls acceleration) and sense of ‘skipping’ (which he calls transience) manifest in a range of modern experiences which disrupt temporal contingencies. Nearly two decades after Toffler, David Harvey commented upon the Postmodern’s “total acceptance of ephemerality, fragmentation, discontinuity, and the chaotic” (44). Only a decade ago, Terry Smith emphasised that time-sense had become even more characterised by the “insistent presentness of multiple, often incompatible temporalities” (196). Netflix had not even launched in Australia and New Zealand until 2015, as well as a host of other time-shifting media technologies which have emerged in the past five years. As a result, it behooves us to revaluate time-sense with this emergent field of production.That being said, entertainment media have always impressed itself upon our understanding of temporal flows. Since the dawn of cinema in the late 19th century, entertainment media have been pivotal in constructing, manifesting, and illustrating time-sense. This has largely (but not exclusively) been in relation to the changing nature of narratology and the ways that narrative produces a sense of temporality. Helen Powell points out that the very earliest cinema, such as the Lumière Brothers’ short films screened in Paris, did not embed narrative, rather, “the Lumières’ actualities captured life as it happened with all its contingencies” (2). It is really only with the emergence of classical mainstream Hollywood that narrative became central, and with it new representations of “temporal flow” (2). Powell tells us that “the classical Hollywood narrative embodies a specific representation of temporal flow, rational and linear in its construction” reflecting “the standardised view of time introduced by the onset of industrialisation” (Powell 2). Of course, as media production and trends change, so does narrative structure. By the late 20th century, new approaches to narrative structure manifest in tropes such as ‘the puzzle film,’ as an example, which “play with audiences” expectations of conventional roles and storytelling through the use of the unreliable narrator and the fracturing of linearity. In doing so, they open up wider questions of belief, truth and reliability” (Powell 4). Puzzle films which might be familiar to the reader are Memento (2001) and Run Lola Run (1999), each playing with the relationship between time and memory, and thus experiences of contemporaneity. The issue of narrative in the construction of temporal flow is therefore critically linked to the ways that mediatic production of narrative, in various ways, reorganises time-sense more broadly. To examine this more closely, I now turn to Netflix’s The Haunting of Hill House.Narratology and Temporal FlowNetflix’s revision of The Haunting of Hill House reveals critical insights into the ways in which media manifest the nature and quality of time-sense. Of course, the main difference between the 1959 novel and the Netflix web series is the change of the textual format from a print text to a televisual text distributed on an Internet streaming platform. This change performs what Marie-Laure Ryan calls “transfictionality across media” (385). There are several models through which transfictionality might occur and thus transmogrify textual and narratival parametres of a text. In the case of The Haunting of Hill House, the Netflix series follows the “displacement” model, which means it “constructs essentially different versions of the protoworld, redesigning its structure and reinventing its story” (Doležel 206). For example, in the 2018 television remake, the protoworld from the original novel retains integrity in that it conveys the story of a group of people who are brought to a mansion called Hill House. In both versions of the protoworld, the discombobulating effects of the mansion work upon the group dynamics until a final break down reveals the supernatural nature of the house. However, in ‘displacing’ the original narrative for adaptation to the web series, the nature of the group is radically reshaped (from a research contingent to a nuclear family unit) and the events follow radically different temporal contingencies.More specifically, the original 1959 novel utilises third-person limited narration and follows a conventional linear temporal flow through which events occur in chronological order. This style of storytelling is often thought about in metaphorical terms by way of ‘rivers’ or ‘streams,’ that is, flowing one-way and never repeating the same configuration (very much unlike the televisual text, in which some scenes are repeated to punctuate various time-streams). Sean Cubitt has examined the relationship between this conventional narrative structure and time sensibility, stating thatthe chronological narrative proposes to us a protagonist who always occupies a perpetual present … as a point moving along a line whose dimensions have however already been mapped: the protagonist of the chronological narrative is caught in a story whose beginning and end have already been determined, and which therefore constructs story time as the unfolding of destiny rather than the passage from past certainty into an uncertain future. (4)I would map Cubitt’s characterisation onto the original Hill House novel as representative of a mid-century textual artifact. Although Modernist literature (by way of Joyce, Woolf, Eliot, and so forth) certainly ‘played’ with non-linear or multi-linear narrative structures, in relation to time-sense, Christina Chau reminds us that Modernity, as a general mood, was very much still caught up in the idea that “time that moves in a linear fashion with the future moving through the present and into the past” (26). Additionally, even though flashbacks are utilised in the original novel, they are revealed using the narrative convention of ‘memories’ through the inner dialogue of the central character, thus still occurring in the ‘present’ of the novel’s timescape and still in keeping with a ‘one-way’ trajectory. Most importantly, the original novel follows what I will call one ‘time-stream’, in that events unfold, and are conveyed through, one temporal flow.In the Netflix series, there are obvious (and even cardinal) changes which reorganise the entire cast of characters as well as the narrative structure. In fact, the very process of returning to the original novel in order to produce a televisual remake says something about the nature of time-sense in itself, which is further sophisticated by the recognition of Netflix as a ‘streaming service’. That is, Netflix encapsulates this notion of ‘rivers-on-demand’ which overlap with each other in the context of the contemporaneous and persistent ‘now’ of digital culture. Marie-Laure Ryan suggests that “the proliferation of rewrites … is easily explained by the sense of pastness that pervades Postmodern culture and by the fixation of contemporary thought with the textual nature of reality” (386). While the Netflix series remains loyal to the mood and basic premise (i.e., that there is a haunted house in which characters endure strange happenings and enter into psycho-drama), the series instead uses fractured narrative convention through which three time-streams are simultaneously at work (although one time-stream is embedded in another and therefore its significance is ‘hidden’ to the viewer until the final episode), which we will examine now.The Time-Streams of Hill HouseIn the Netflix series, the central time-stream is, at first, ostensibly located in the characters’ ‘present’. I will call this time-stream A. (As a note to the reader here, there are spoilers for those who have not watched the Netflix series.) The viewer assumes they are, from the very first scene, following the ‘present’ time-stream in which the characters are adults. This is the time-stream in which the series opens, however, only for the first minute of viewing. After around one minute of viewing time, we already enter into a second time-stream. Even though both the original novel and the TV series begin with the same dialogue, the original novel continues to follow one time-stream, while the TV series begins to play with contemporaneous action by manifesting a second time-stream (following a series of events from the characters past) running in parallel action to the first time-stream. This narrative revisioning resonates with Toffler’s estimation of shifting nature of time-sense in the later twentieth century, in which he cites thatindeed, not only do contemporary events radiate instantaneously—now we can be said to be feeling the impact of all past events in a new way. For the past is doubling back on us. We are caught in what might be called a ‘time skip’. (16)In its ‘displacement’ model, the Hill House televisual remake points to this ongoing fascination with, and re-actualisation of, the exaggerated temporal discrepancies in the experience of contemporary everyday life. The Netflix Hill House series constructs a dimensional timescape in which the timeline ‘skips’ back and forth (not only for the viewer but also the characters), and certain spaces (such as the Red Room) are only permeable to some characters at certain times.If we think about Toffler’s words here—a doubling back, or, a time-skip—we might be pulled toward ever more recent incarnations of this effect. In Helen Powell’s investigation of the relationship between narrative and time-sense, she insists that “new media’s temporalities offer up the potential to challenge the chronological mode of temporal experience” (152). Sean Cubitt proposes that with the intensification of new media “we enter a certain, as yet inchoate, mode of time. For all the boasts of instantaneity, our actual relations with one another are mediated and as such subject to delays: slow downloads, periodic crashes, cache clearances and software uploads” (10). Resultingly, we have myriad temporal contingencies running at any one time—some slow, frustrating, mundane, in ‘real-time’ and others rapid to the point of instantaneous, or even able to pull the past into the present (through the endless trove of archived media on the web) and again into other mediatic dimensions such as virtual reality. To wit, Powell writes that “narrative, in mirroring these new temporal relations must embody fragmentation, discontinuity and incomplete resolution” (153). Fragmentation, discontinuity, and incompleteness are appropriate ways to think through the Hill House’s narrative revision and the ways in which it manifests some of these time-sensibilities.The notion of a ‘time-skip’ is an appropriate way to describe the transitions between the three temporal flows occurring simultaneously in the Hill House televisual remake. Before being comfortably seated in any one time-stream, the viewer is translocated into a second time-stream that runs parallel to it (almost suggesting a kind of parallel dimension). So, we begin with the characters as adults and then almost immediately, we are also watching them as children with the rapid emergence of this second time-stream. This ‘second time-stream’ conveys the events of ‘the past’ in which the central characters are children, so I will call this time-stream B. While time-stream B conveys the scenes in which the characters are children, the scenes are not necessarily in chronological order.The third time-stream is the spectral-stream, or time-stream C. However, the viewer is not fully aware that there is a totally separate time stream at play (the audience is made to think that this time-stream is the product of mere ghost-sightings). This is until the final episode, which completes the narrative ‘puzzle’. That is, the third time-stream conveys the events which are occurring simultaneously in both of the two other time-streams. In a sense, time-stream C, the spectral stream, is used to collapse the ontological boundaries of the former two time-streams. Throughout the early episodes, this time-stream C weaves in and out of time-streams A and B, like an intrusive time-stream (intruding upon the two others until it manifests on its own in the final episode). Time-stream C is used to create a 'puzzle' for the viewer in that the viewer does not fully understand its total significance until the puzzle is completed in the final episode. This convention, too, says something about the nature of time-sense as it shifts and mutates with mediatic production. This echoes back to Powell’s discussion of the ‘puzzle’ trend, which, as I note earlier, plays with “audiences’ expectations of conventional roles and storytelling through the use of the unreliable narrator and the fracturing of linearity” which serves to “open up wider questions of belief, truth and reliability” (4). Similarly, the skipping between three time-streams to build the Hill House puzzle manifests the ever-complicating relationships of time-management experiences in everyday life, in which pasts, presents, and futures impinge upon one another and interfere with each other.Critically, in terms of plot, time-stream B (in which the characters are little children) opens with the character Nell as a small child of 5 or 6 years of age. She appears to have woken up from a nightmare about The Bent Neck Lady. This vision traumatises Nell, and she is duly comforted in this scene by the characters of the eldest son and the father. This provides crucial exposition for the viewer: We are told that these ‘visitations’ from The Bent Neck Lady are a recurring trauma for the child-Nell character. It is important to note that, while these scenes may be mistaken for simple memory flashbacks, it becomes clearer throughout the series that this time-stream is not tied to any one character’s memory but is a separate storyline, though critical to the functioning of the other two. Moreover, the Bent Neck Lady recurs as both (apparent) nightmares and waking visions throughout the course of Nell’s life. It is in Episode Five that we realise why.The reason why The Bent Neck Lady always appears to Nell is that she is Nell. We learn this at the end of Episode Five when the storyline finally conveys how Nell dies in the House, which is by hanging from a noose tied to the mezzanine in the Hill House foyer. As Nell drops from the mezzanine attached to this noose, her neck snaps—she is The Bent Neck Lady. However, Nell does not just drop to the end of the noose. She continues to drop five more times back into the other two time streams. Each time Nell drops, she drops into a different moment in time (and each time the neck snapping is emphasised). The first drop she appears to herself in a basement. The second drop she appears to herself on the road outside the car while she is with her brother. The third is during (what we have been told) is a kind of sleep paralysis. The fourth and fifth drops she appears to herself as the small child on two separate occasions—both of which we witness with her in the first episode. So not only is Nell journeying through time, the audience is too. The viewer follows Nell’s journey through her ‘time-skip’. The result of the staggered but now conjoined time-streams is that we come to realise that Nell is, in fact, haunting herself—and the audience now understands they have followed this throughout not as a ghost-sighting but as a ‘future’ time-stream impinging on another.In the final episode of season one, the siblings are confronted by Ghost-Nell in the Red Room. This is important because it is in this Red Room through which all time-streams coalesce. The Red Room exists dimensionally, cutting across disparate spaces and times—it is the spatial representation of the spectral time-stream C. It is in this final episode, and in this spectral dimension, that all the three time-streams collapse upon each other and complete the narrative ‘puzzle’ for the viewer. The temporal flow of the spectral dimension, time-stream C, interrupts and interferes with the temporal flow of the former two—for both the characters in the text and viewing audience.The collapse of time-streams is produced through a strategic dialogic structure. When Ghost-Nell appears to the siblings in the Red Room, her first line of dialogue is a non-sequitur. Luke emerges from his near-death experience and points to Nell, to which Nell replies: “I feel a little clearer just now. We have. All of us have” ("Silence Lay Steadily"). Nell’s dialogue continues but, eventually, she returns to the same statement, almost like she is running through a cyclic piece of text. She states again, “We have. All of us have.” However, this time around, the phrase is pre-punctuated by Shirley’s claim that she feels as though she had been in the Red Room before. Nell’s dialogue and the dialogue of the other characters suddenly align in synchronicity. The audience now understands that Nell’s very first statement, “We have. All of us have” is actually a response to the statement that Shirley had not yet made. This narrative convention emphasises the ‘confetti-like’ nature of the construction of time here. Confetti is, after all, sheets of paper that have been cut into pieces, thrown into the air, and then fallen out of place. Similarly, the narrative makes sense as a whole but feels cut into pieces and realigned, if only momentarily. When Nell then loops back through the same dialogue, it finally appears in synch and thus makes sense. This signifies that the time-streams are now merged.The Ghost of Nell has travelled through (and in and out of) each separate time-stream. As a result, Ghost-Nell understands the nature of the Red Room—it manifests a slippage of timespace that each of the siblings had entered during their stay at the Hill House mansion. It is with this realisation that Ghost-Nell explains:Everything’s been out of order. Time, I mean. I thought for so long that time was like a line, that ... our moments were laid out like dominoes, and that they ... fell, one into another and on it went, just days tipping, one into the next, into the next, in a long line between the beginning ... and the end.But I was wrong. It’s not like that at all. Our moments fall around us like rain. Or... snow. Or confetti. (“Silence Lay Steadily”)This brings me to the titular concern: The emerging abstraction of time as a mode of layering and fracturing, a mode performed through this analogy of ‘confetti’ or ‘snow’. The Netflix Hill House revision rearranges time constructs so that any one moment of time may be accessed, much like scrolling back and forth (and in and out) of social media feeds, Internet forums, virtual reality programs and so forth. Each moment, like a flake of ‘snow’ or ‘confetti’ litters the timespace matrix, making an infinite tapestry that exists dimensionally. In the Hill House narrative, all moments exist simultaneously and accessing each moment at any point in the time-stream is merely a process of perception.ConclusionNetflix is optimised as a ‘streaming platform’ which has all but ushered in the era of ‘time-shifting’ predicated on geospatial politics (see Leaver). The current media landscape offers instantaneity, contemporaneity, as well as, arbitrary boundedness on the basis of geopolitics, which Tama Leaver refers to as the “tyranny of digital distance”. Therefore, it is fitting that Netflix’s revision of the Hill House narrative is preoccupied with time as well as spectrality. Above, I have explored just some of the ways that the televisual remake plays with notions of time through a diegetic analysis.However, we should take note that even in its production and consumption, this series, to quote Graham Meikle and Sherman Young, is embedded within “the current phase of television [that] suggests contested continuities” (67). Powell problematises the time-sense of this media apparatus further by reminding us that “there are three layers of temporality contained within any film image: the time of registration (production); the time of narration (storytelling); and the time of its consumption (viewing)” (3-4). Each of these aspects produces what Althusser and Balibar have called a “peculiar time”, that is, “different levels of the whole as developing ‘in the same historical time’ … relatively autonomous and hence relatively independent, even in its dependence, of the ‘times’ of the other levels” (99). When we think of the layers upon layers of different time ‘signatures’ which converge in Hill House as a textual artifact—in its production, consumption, distribution, and diegesis—the nature of contemporary time reveals itself as complex but also fleeting—hard to hold onto—much like snow or confetti.ReferencesAlthusser, Louis, and Étienne Balibar. Reading Capital. London: NLB, 1970.Cobley, Paul. Narrative. Hoboken: Taylor and Francis, 2013.Cubitt, S. “Spreadsheets, Sitemaps and Search Engines.” New Screen Media: Cinema/Art/Narrative. Eds. Martin Rieser and Andrea Zapp. London: BFI, 2002. 3-13.Derrida, Jacques, and Bernard Stiegler. Echographies of Television: Filmed Interviews. 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