Academic literature on the topic 'Contests – Juvenile fiction'

The goal of this paper is to investigate the role of disciplinary power regimes of femininity in sporting institutions depicted in sports fiction. With a renewed interest in analyzing sports practices as specifically gendered, this paper addresses how contemporary narratives’ deeper address of the affective encounters of characters has reconfigured the sports literary panorama. As represented in Miranda Kenneally’s novel, Coming Up for Air (2017), friendship poses a challenge to the institutionalized, parental and gendered bodily vulnerability of sports. The analysis reveals how the adolescent body is manageable but can also contest, in direct questioning of the interests of authority. Enjoying friendship in sports, eventually, reveals paths towards more inclusive (bodily) practices in them. Finally, this paper speaks of the fact that juvenile fiction, traditionally considered an archive of negative influence on young readers’ behaviors, can exercise the opposite effect too. Article received: December 28, 2018; Article accepted: January 23, 2019; Published online: April 15, 2019; Original scholarly paperHow to cite this article: Riestra-Camacho, Rocío. "An Embodied Challenge to Femininity as Disciplinary Power in the Contemporary American Young Adult Sports Novels." AM Journal of Art and Media Studies 18 (2019): 65–77. doi: 10.25038/am.v0i18.295

ABSTRACT: I approach Satyajit Ray's sf stories as postcolonial interventions into Western Enlightenment discourses of scientific rationality. I trace the trajectory of these concerns as they are reflected in narratives centered around nonhuman animals, published in various Bengali juvenile magazines between 1961 and 1992. Ray's stories offer a critical site for interrogating, revising, and expanding the possibilities of a Kantian moral philosophy of cosmopolitanism for post-independence contexts of democratic governance, industrialization, and urbanization. Ray's sf enables readers to imagine a posthuman cosmopolitics (to use Isabelle Stengers's concept) as an alternative to colonial cartographies of personhood and the centrifugal impulse of postcolonial nation formation. My article addresses the significant but underexplored role played by Ray's ecological thinking and care for the nonhuman animal in his postcolonial politics. Ray's sf harnesses the possibilities of Bengali speculative fiction, including Kalpavigyan's model of a fluid science to posit a speculative vision of a future-oriented cosmopolitics where the possibility for non-reciprocal and untranslatable proximities becomes a conceptual foundation for thinking about alterity.

Summary Biology of Fictor composticola has been studied on Aphelenchus avenae in vitro. It reproduces by amphimixis, embryonic development is completed in 24 - 27 h and life cycle in 3 - 4 days. Fusion of sperm and egg pronuclei occurs in the uteri. Pulsation of median oesophageal bulb and pressing of lips against egg shell is seen just prior to hatching but teeth seem to play no role in this process. No moulting occurs inside the egg shell and the first stage juvenile hatches out. Female and male undergo mating upon addition of water in the culture plates and continue to swim in copula for a considerable time. A female lays 1.6 - 4.0 eggs in 24 h while feeding upon A. radicicolus. Predation and reproduction is affected by the temperature and 25 - 35 °C is the optimum range for these phenomena. Process of feeding as recorded with a CCTV attached to a compound microscope is described. F. composticola engulfs small preys; sucks the intestinal contents while holding them or cuts the body wall of large-sized preys and then feeds on prolapsed organs. Two sexes differ in their efficiencies of predation, a female on an average kills 53 A. avenae as compared to 11 by a male in 24 h. F. composticola feeds and reproduces on mycophagous nematodes and juveniles of root- knot, cyst and citrus nematodes but does not prey upon adult nematodes having coarsely annulated cuticle. Cannibalism in this species is also observed. F. composticola and Seinura paratenuicaudata prey upon each other. Biocontrol potential of F. composticola for managing nematode problems in button mushroom and agricultural crops has also been discussed.

Though Terence Rattigan’s reputation as a playwright has successfully been revived in recent years, critical responses to the plays – The Winslow Boy (1946) being a case in point – remain limited to the perspectives of British theatre history and British party politics. Paying particular attention to ‘cross-legal’ parallels between The Winslow Boy and a variety of historical and fictional analogues, Alex Feldman restores the play to a broader frame of reference, and to some of its original contexts of production and reception. First considering Rattigan’s juvenile dramatic forays into the law, including his adaptation of A Tale of Two Cities, he proceeds to explore archival evidence of The Winslow Boy’s European reception, pursuing parallels drawn by reviewers with the Nuremberg trials, the Dreyfus case, and Heinrich von Kleist’s 1811 novella, Michael Kohlhaas, re-positioning The Winslow Boy within the transnational and transhistorical legal imaginary to which it properly belongs. Alex Feldman is an Assistant Professor of English at MacEwan University in Alberta. His first book, Dramas of the Past on the Twentieth-Century Stage: in History’s Wings, was published by Routledge in 2012.

This article considers the beginnings of the British actor Roddy McDowall's career as a child star in Hollywood. Following his relocation to the United States in October 1940 and signing a contract with Twentieth Century-Fox, McDowall quickly became one of Hollywood's most popular juvenile actors. For the duration of the Second World War, McDowall's star image was indissoluble from his status as a war guest: he was ‘a British evacuee star’. McDowall thus became an unofficial ambassador for the British nation, much like his fellow evacuees, who were widely recognised for their work improving Anglo-American relations. In the management of McDowall's image, and in his screen performances, there is a discernible effort to substantiate certain attitudes about the character and attributes of the British nation but also to challenge certain prejudices about English sissy boys. McDowall's star text was carefully managed so that the image of the actor presented by the media and the fictional characters he played on screen congealed in a productive way to inspire among American audiences specific sentiments about the British and America's relationship with the British nation during wartime. Analysing the representation of McDowall in American film magazines during the early 1940s, as well as his performances in three war-themed productions – Confirm or Deny (1941), On the Sunny Side (1942) and The White Cliffs of Dover (1944) – I explore the ways McDowall's star text functioned in its geopolitical and bio-political contexts.

El presente trabajo examina la sección “Toque de diana” incluida en el semanario infantil de ideología carlista Pelayos, publicado en San Sebastián (España) entre 1937-1938. De entre los 101 textos disponibles provenientes del total de números publicados, hemos extraído 11, aquellos que nos ayudan a dibujar cómo era la educación formal a disposición de los jóvenes carlistas “pelayos”. Desde una perspectiva de análisis historiográfico (de doble cariz, interno y externo), examinaremos cómo se tratan en estos documentos cuestiones como los libros de texto, la religión católica, la historia de España o la lectura de textos de ficción. El propósito es extraer los presupuestos ideológicos y propagandísticos insertos en sus páginas. Así, veremos cómo “Toque de diana” constituye el espacio idóneo para difundir la propaganda del pensamiento tradicionalista entre el público infantil y juvenil, en este caso concreto, en relación con el ámbito escolar, los contenidos de estudio y los libros de ocio para leer. Palabras clave: carlismo; Pelayos; Flechas; revistas infantiles; escuela: adoctrinamiento. Abstract This paper examines the section “Toque de diana” included in the Pelayos children's weekly of Carlist ideology, published in San Sebastián (Spain) between 1937-1938. Among the 101 available texts from the total of published copies, we have extracted 11 of them, those that help us to draw what formal education was like at the disposal of the young Carlist “Pelayos”. From a perspective of historiographical analysis (double facet, internal and external), we will examine how issues such as textbooks, the Catholic religion, the history of Spain or the reading of fictional texts are dealt with in these documents. The purpose is to try to extract the ideological and propagandistic assumptions inserted in its pages. Thus, we will see how “Toque de diana” constitutes the ideal space to disseminate the propaganda of traditionalist thought among children and young people, in this specific case, in relation to the school environment, the contents to be studied and leisure books to read. Keywords: carlism; Pelayos; Flechas; children’s magazines; school; indoctrination.

The Bildungsroman has been extensively studied in the West, bit scholarly works on it in Africa are very few. This could be attributed to the fact that these narratives are sometimes treated as juvenile fiction because of the preponderance of growing-up children in them. I therefore examine how third generation Nigerian female writers subvert and alter the form in an African context to articulate the fact that growth as a universal human experience differs according to contexts and the space where it is negotiated. The paper concentrates mainly on Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus, but I shall make passing remarks on Azuah’s Sky-High Flames and Atta’s Everything Good Will Come, not specifically for the purpose of intertextuality, but to demonstrate how these novels belong to the same tradition. From the plot structure and analysis of texts it becomes clear that the traditional western Bildungsroman has been domesticated within a postcolonial context to appraise narrative of growth. They offer a model of resistance to women’s oppression. The Nigerian variant of the Bildungsroman articulated in these novels portrays the struggle for individuation and the negotiations of feminine subjectivity, while concurrently depicting the plight of women in a society plagued by the debilitating forces of patriarchy, and alternatives to the plight.

Despite the now-traditional tendency of noir scholarship to call attention to the retrospective and constructed nature of this genre— James Naremore argues that film noir is best regarded as a “mythology”— one feature that has rarely come under question is its association with the city (2). Despite the existence of numerous rural noirs, the depiction of urban space is associated with this genre more consistently than any other element. Even in critical accounts that attempt to deconstruct the solidity of the noir genre, the city is left as an implicit inclusion, and the country, an implict exclusion. Naremore, for example, does not include the urban environment in a list of the central tenets of film noir that he calls into question: “nothing links together all the things described as noir—not the theme of crime, not a cinematographic technique, not even a resistance to Aristotelian narratives or happy endings” (10). Elizabeth Cowie identifies film noir a “fantasy,” whose “tenuous critical status” has been compensated for “by a tenacity of critical use” (121). As part of Cowie’s project, to revise the assumption that noirs are almost exclusively male-centered, she cites character types, visual style, and narrative tendencies, but never urban spaces, as familiar elements of noir that ought to be reconsidered. If the city is rarely tackled as an unnecessary or part-time element of film noir in discursive studies, it is often the first trait identified by critics in the kind of formative, characteristic-compiling studies that Cowie and Naremore work against.Andrew Dickos opens Street with No Name: A History of the Classic American Film Noir with a list of noir’s key attributes. The first item is “an urban setting or at least an urban influence” (6). Nicholas Christopher maintains that “the city is the seedbed of film noir. […] However one tries to define or explain noir, the common denominator must always be the city. The two are inseparable” (37). Though the tendencies of noir scholars— both constructive and deconstructive— might lead readers to believe otherwise, rural locations figure prominently in a number of noir films. I will show that the noir genre is, indeed, flexible enough to encompass many films set predominantly or partly in rural locations. Steve Neale, who encourages scholars to work with genre terms familiar to original audiences, would point out that the rural noir is an academic discovery not an industry term, or one with much popular currency (166). Still, this does not lessen the critical usefulness of this subgenre, or its implications for noir scholarship.While structuralist and post-structuralist modes of criticism dominated film genre criticism in the 1970s and 80s, as Thomas Schatz has pointed out, these approaches often sacrifice close attention to film texts, for more abstract, high-stakes observations: “while there is certainly a degree to which virtually every mass-mediated cultural artifact can be examined from [a mythical or ideological] perspective, there appears to be a point at which we tend to lose sight of the initial object of inquiry” (100). Though my reading of these films sidesteps attention to social and political concerns, this article performs the no-less-important task of clarifying the textual features of this sub-genre. To this end, I will survey the tendencies of the rural noir more generally, mentioning more than ten films that fit this subgenre, before narrowing my analysis to a reading of Moonrise (Frank Borzage, 1948), Thieves’ Highway (Jules Dassin, 1949), They Live By Night (Nicholas Ray, 1949) and On Dangerous Ground (Nicholas Ray, 1952). Robert Mitchum tries to escape his criminal life by settling in a small, mountain-side town in Out of the Past (Jacques Tourneur, 1947). A foggy marsh provides a dramatic setting for the Bonnie and Clyde-like demise of lovers on the run in Gun Crazy (Joseph Lewis, 1950). In The Asphalt Jungle (John Huston, 1950), Sterling Hayden longs to return home after he is forced to abandon his childhood horse farm for a life of organised crime in the city. Rob Ryan plays a cop unable to control his violent impulses in On Dangerous Ground (Nicholas Ray, 1952). He is re-assigned from New York City to a rural community up-state in hopes that a less chaotic environment will have a curative effect. The apple orchards of Thieves’ Highway are no refuge from networks of criminal corruption. In They Live By Night, a pair of young lovers, try to leave their criminal lives behind, hiding out in farmhouses, cabins, and other pastoral locations in the American South. Finally, the location of prisons explains a number of sequences set in spare, road-side locations such as those in The Killer is Loose (Budd Boetticher, 1956), The Hitch-Hiker (Ida Lupino, 1953), and Raw Deal (Anthony Mann, 1948). What are some common tendencies of the rural noir? First, they usually feature both rural and urban settings, which allows the portrayal of one to be measured against the other. What we see of the city structures the definition of the country, and vice versa. Second, the lead character moves between these two locations by driving. For criminals, the car is more essential for survival in the country than in the city, so nearly all rural noirs are also road movies. Third, nature often figures as a redemptive force for urbanites steeped in lives of crime. Fourth, the curative quality of the country is usually tied to a love interest in this location: the “nurturing woman” as defined by Janey Place, who encourages the protagonist to forsake his criminal life (60). Fifth, the country is never fully crime-free. In The Killer is Loose, for example, an escaped convict’s first victim is a farmer, whom he clubs before stealing his truck. The convict (Wendell Corey), then, easily slips through a motorcade with the farmer’s identification. Here, the sprawling countryside provides an effective cover for the killer. This farmland is not an innocent locale, but the criminal’s safety-net. In films where a well-intentioned lead attempts to put his criminal life behind him by moving to a remote location, urban associates have little trouble tracking him down. While the country often appears, to protagonists like Jeff in Out of the Past or Bowie in They Live By Night, as an ideal place to escape from crime, as these films unfold, violence reaches the countryside. If these are similar points, what are some differences among rural noirs? First, there are many differences by degree among the common elements listed above. For instance, some rural noirs present their location with unabashed romanticism, while others critique the idealisation of these locations; some “nurturing women” are complicit with criminal activity, while others are entirely innocent. Second, while noir films are commonly known for treating similar urban locations, Los Angeles in particular, these films feature a wide variety of locations: Out of the Past and Thieves’ Highway take place in California, the most common setting for rural noirs, but On Dangerous Ground is set in northern New England, They Live by Night takes place in the Depression-era South, Moonrise in Southern swampland, and the most dynamic scene of The Asphalt Jungle is in rural Kentucky. Third, these films also vary considerably in the balance of settings. If the three typical locations of the rural noir are the country, the city, and the road, the distribution of these three locations varies widely across these films. The location of The Asphalt Jungle matches the title until its dramatic conclusion. The Hitch-hiker, arguably a rural noir, is set in travelling cars, with just brief stops in the barren landscape outside. Two of the films I analyse, They Live By Night and Moonrise are set entirely in the country; a remarkable exception to the majority of films in this subgenre. There are only two other critical essays on the rural noir. In “Shadows in the Hinterland: Rural Noir,” Jonathan F. Bell contextualises the rural noir in terms of post-war transformations of the American landscape. He argues that these films express a forlorn faith in the agrarian myth while the U.S. was becoming increasingly developed and suburbanised. That is to say, the rural noir simultaneously reflects anxiety over the loss of rural land, but also the stubborn belief that the countryside will always exist, if the urbanite needs it as a refuge. Garry Morris suggests the following equation as the shortest way to state the thematic interest of this genre: “Noir = industrialisation + (thwarted) spirituality.” He attributes much of the malaise of noir protagonists to the inhospitable urban environment, “far from [society’s] pastoral and romantic and spiritual origins.” Where Bell focuses on nine films— Detour (1945), The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946), Out of the Past (1947), Key Largo (1948), Gun Crazy (1949), On Dangerous Ground (1952), The Hitch-Hiker (1953), Split Second (1953), and Killer’s Kiss (1955)— Morris’s much shorter article includes just The Asphalt Jungle (1950) and Gun Crazy. Of the four films I discuss, only On Dangerous Ground has previously been treated as part of this subgenre, though it has never been discussed alongside Nicholas Ray’s other rural noir. To further the development of the project that these authors have started— the formation of a rural noir corpus— I propose the inclusion of three additional films in this subgenre: Moonrise (1948), They Live by Night (1949), and Thieves’ Highway (1949). With both On Dangerous Ground and They Live by Night to his credit, Nicholas Ray has the distinction of being the most prolific director of rural noirs. In They Live by Night, two young lovers, Bowie (Farley Granger) and Keechie (Cathy O’Donnell), attempt to escape from their established criminal lives. Twenty-three year old Bowie has just been released from juvenile prison and finds rural Texas refreshing: “Out here, the air smells different,” he says. He meets Keechie through her father, a small time criminal organiser who would be happy to keep her secluded for life. When one of Bowie’s accomplices, Chicamaw (Howard DaSilva), shoots a policeman after a robbing a bank with Bowie, the young couple is forced to run. Foster Hirsch calls They Live by Night “a genre rarity, a sentimental noir” (34). The naïve blissfulness of their affection is associated with the primitive settings they navigate. Though Bowie and Keechie are the most sympathetic protagonists of any rural noir, this is no safeguard against an inevitable, characteristically noir demise. Janey Place writes, “the young lovers are doomed, but the possibility of their love transcends and redeems them both, and its failure criticises the urbanised world that will not let them live” (63). As indicated here, the country offers the young lovers refuge for some time, and their bond is depicted as wonderfully strong, but it is doomed by the stronger force of the law.Raymond Williams discusses how different characteristics are associated with urban and rural spaces:On the country has gathered the idea of a natural way of life: of peace, innocence, and simple virtue. On the city has gathered the idea of an achieved center: of learning, communication, light. Powerful hostile associations have also developed: on the city as a place of noise, worldliness and ambition; on the country as a place of backwardness, ignorance, limitation. (1) They Live By Night breaks down these dichotomies, showing the persistence of crime rooted in rural areas.Bowie desires to “get squared around” and live a more natural life with Keechie. Williams’ country adjectives— “peace, innocence, and simple virtue”— describe the nature of this relationship perfectly. Yet, criminal activity, usually associated with the city, has an overwhelmingly strong presence in this region and their lives. Bowie, following the doomed logic of many a crime film character, plans to launch a new, more honest life with cash raised in a heist. Keechie recognises the contradictions in this plan: “Fine way to get squared around, teaming with them. Stealing money and robbing banks. You’ll get in so deep trying to get squared, they’ll have enough to keep you in for two life times.” For Bowie, crime and the pursuit of love are inseparably bound, refuting the illusion of the pure and innocent countryside personified by characters like Mary Malden in On Dangerous Ground and Ann Miller in Out of the Past.In Ray’s other rural noir, On Dangerous Ground, a lonely, angry, and otherwise burned out cop, Wilson (Rob Ryan), finds both love and peace in his time away from the city. While on his up-state assignment, Wilson meets Mary Walden (Ida Lupino), a blind woman who lives a secluded life miles away from this already desolate, rural community. Mary has a calming influence on Wilson, and fits well within Janey Place’s notion of the archetypal nurturing woman in film noir: “The redemptive woman often represents or is part of a primal connection with nature and/or with the past, which are safe, static states rather than active, exciting ones, but she can sometimes offer the only transcendence possible in film noir” (63).If, as Colin McArthur observes, Ray’s characters frequently seek redemption in rural locales— “[protagonists] may reject progress and modernity; they may choose to go or are sent into primitive areas. […] The journeys which bring them closer to nature may also offer them hope of salvation” (124) — the conclusions of On Dangerous Ground versus They Live By Night offer two markedly different resolutions to this narrative. Where Bowie and Keechie’s life on the lam cannot be sustained, On Dangerous Ground, against the wishes of its director, portrays a much more romanticised version of pastoral life. According to Andrew Dickos, “Ray wanted to end the film on the ambivalent image of Jim Wilson returning to the bleak city,” after he had restored order up-state (132). The actual ending is more sentimental. Jim rushes back north to be with Mary. They passionately kiss in close-up, cueing an exuberant orchestral score as The End appears over a slow tracking shot of the majestic, snow covered landscape. In this way, On Dangerous Ground overturns the usual temporal associations of rural versus urban spaces. As Raymond Williams identifies, “The common image of the country is now an image of the past, and the common image of the city an image of the future” (297). For Wilson, by contrast, city life was no longer sustainable and rurality offers his best means for a future. Leo Marx noted in a variety of American pop culture, from Mark Twain to TV westerns and magazine advertising, a “yearning for a simpler, more harmonious style of life, and existence ‘closer to nature,’ that is the psychic root of all pastoralism— genuine and spurious” (Marx 6). Where most rural noirs expose the agrarian myth as a fantasy and a sham, On Dangerous Ground, exceptionally, perpetuates it as actual and effectual. Here, a bad cop is made good with a few days spent in a sparsely populated area and with a woman shaped by her rural upbringing.As opposed to On Dangerous Ground, where the protagonist’s movement from city to country matches his split identity as a formerly corrupt man wishing to be pure, Frank Borzage’s B-film Moonrise (1948) is located entirely in rural or small-town locations. Set in the fictional Southern town of Woodville, which spans swamps, lushly wooded streets and aging Antebellum mansions, the lead character finds good and bad within the same rural location and himself. Dan (Dane Clark) struggles to escape his legacy as the son of a murderer. This conflict is irreparably heightened when Dan kills a man (who had repeatedly teased and bullied him) in self-defence. The instability of Dan’s moral compass is expressed in the way he treats innocent elements of the natural world: flies, dogs, and, recalling Out of the Past, a local deaf boy. He is alternately cruel and kind. Dan is finally redeemed after seeking the advice of a black hermit, Mose (Rex Ingram), who lives in a ramshackle cabin by the swamp. He counsels Dan with the advice that men turn evil from “being lonesome,” not for having “bad blood.” When Dan, eventually, decides to confess to his crime, the sheriff finds him tenderly holding a search hound against a bucolic, rural backdrop. His complete comfortability with the landscape and its creatures finally allows Dan to reconcile the film’s opening opposition. He is no longer torturously in between good and evil, but openly recognises his wrongs and commits to do good in the future. If I had to select just a single shot to illustrate that noirs are set in rural locations more often than most scholarship would have us believe, it would be the opening sequence of Moonrise. From the first shot, this film associates rural locations with criminal elements. The credit sequence juxtaposes pooling water with an ominous brass score. In this disorienting opening, the camera travels from an image of water, to a group of men framed from the knees down. The camera dollies out and pans left, showing that these men, trudging solemnly, are another’s legal executioners. The frame tilts upward and we see a man hung in silhouette. This dense shot is followed by an image of a baby in a crib, also shadowed, the water again, and finally the execution scene. If this sequence is a thematic montage, it can also be discussed, more simply, as a series of establishing shots: a series of images that, seemingly, could not be more opposed— a baby, a universal symbol of innocence, set against the ominous execution, cruel experience— are paired together by virtue of their common location. The montage continues, showing that the baby is the son of the condemned man. As Dan struggles with the legacy of his father throughout the film, this opening shot continues to inform our reading of this character, split between the potential for good or evil.What a baby is to Moonrise, or, to cite a more familiar reference, what the insurance business is to many a James M. Cain roman noir, produce distribution is to Jules Dassin’s Thieves’ Highway (1949). The apple, often a part of wholesome American myths, is at the centre of this story about corruption. Here, a distribution network that brings Americans this hearty, simple product is connected with criminal activity and violent abuses of power more commonly portrayed in connection with cinematic staples of organised crime such as bootlegging or robbery. This film portrays bad apples in the apple business, showing that no profit driven enterprise— no matter how traditional or rural— is beyond the reach of corruption.Fitting the nature of this subject, numerous scenes in the Dassin film take place in the daylight (in addition to darkness), and in the countryside (in addition to the city) as we move between wine and apple country to the market districts of San Francisco. But if the subject and setting of Thieves’ Highway are unusual for a noir, the behaviour of its characters is not. Spare, bright country landscapes form the backdrop for prototypical noir behaviour: predatory competition for money and power.As one would expect of a film noir, the subject of apple distribution is portrayed with dynamic violence. In the most exciting scene of the film, a truck careens off the road after a long pursuit from rival sellers. Apples scatter across a hillside as the truck bursts into flames. This scene is held in a long-shot, as unscrupulous thugs gather the produce for sale while the unfortunate driver burns to death. Here, the reputedly innocent American apple is subject to cold-blooded, profit-maximizing calculations as much as the more typical topics of noir such as blackmail, fraud, or murder. Passages on desolate roads and at apple orchards qualify Thieves’ Highway as a rural noir; the dark, cynical manner in which capitalist enterprise is treated is resonant with nearly all film noirs. Thieves’ Highway follows a common narrative pattern amongst rural noirs to gradually reveal rural spaces as connected to criminality in urban locations. Typically, this disillusioning fact is narrated from the perspective of a lead character who first has a greater sense of safety in rural settings but learns, over the course of the story, to be more wary in all locations. In Thieves’, Nick’s hope that apple-delivery might earn an honest dollar (he is the only driver to treat the orchard owners fairly) gradually gives way to an awareness of the inevitable corruption that has taken over this enterprise at all levels of production, from farmer, to trucker, to wholesaler, and thus, at all locations, the country, the road, and the city.Between this essay, and the previous work of Morris and Bell on the subject, we are developing a more complete survey of the rural noir. Where Bell’s and Morris’s essays focus more resolutely on rural noirs that relied on the contrast of the city versus the country— which, significantly, was the first tendency of this subgenre that I observed— Moonrise and They Live By Night demonstrate that this genre can work entirely apart from the city. From start to finish, these films take place in small towns and rural locations. As opposed to Out of the Past, On Dangerous Ground, or The Asphalt Jungle, characters are never pulled back to, nor flee from, an urban life of crime. Instead, vices that are commonly associated with the city have a free-standing life in the rural locations that are often thought of as a refuge from these harsh elements. If both Bell and Morris study the way that rural noirs draw differences between the city and country, two of the three films I add to the subgenre constitute more complete rural noirs, films that work wholly outside urban locations, not just in contrast with it. Bell, like me, notes considerable variety in rural noirs locations, “desert landscapes, farms, mountains, and forests all qualify as settings for consideration,” but he also notes that “Diverse as these landscapes are, this set of films uses them in surprisingly like-minded fashion to achieve a counterpoint to the ubiquitous noir city” (219). In Bell’s analysis, all nine films he studies, feature significant urban segments. He is, in fact, so inclusive as to discuss Stanley Kubrick’s Killer’s Kiss as a rural noir even though it does not contain a single frame shot or set outside of New York City. Rurality is evoked only as a possibility, as alienated urbanite Davy (Jamie Smith) receives letters from his horse-farm-running relatives. Reading these letters offers Davy brief moments of respite from drudgerous city spaces such as the subway and his cramped apartment. In its emphasis on the centrality of rural locations, my project is more similar to David Bell’s work on the rural in horror films than to Jonathan F. Bell’s work on the rural noir. David Bell analyses the way that contemporary horror films work against a “long tradition” of the “idyllic rural” in many Western texts (95). As opposed to works “from Henry David Thoreau and Walt Whitman to contemporary television shows like Northern Exposure and films such as A River Runs Through It or Grand Canyon” in which the rural is positioned as “a restorative to urban anomie,” David Bell analyses films such as Deliverance and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre that depict “a series of anti-idyllic visions of the rural” (95). Moonrise and They Live By Night, like these horror films, portray the crime and the country as coexistent spheres at the same time that the majority of other popular culture, including noirs like Killer’s Kiss or On Dangerous Ground, portray them as mutually exclusive.To use a mode of generic analysis developed by Rick Altman, the rural noir, while preserving the dominant syntax of other noirs, presents a remarkably different semantic element (31). Consider the following description of the genre, from the introduction to Film Noir: An Encyclopedic Reference Guide: “The darkness that fills the mirror of the past, which lurks in a dark corner or obscures a dark passage out of the oppressively dark city, is not merely the key adjective of so many film noir titles but the obvious metaphor for the condition of the protagonist’s mind” (Silver and Ward, 4). In this instance, the narrative elements, or syntax, of film noir outlined by Silver and Ward do not require revision, but the urban location, a semantic element, does. Moonrise and They Live By Night demonstrate the sustainability of the aforementioned syntactic elements— the dark, psychological experience of the leads and their inescapable criminal past— apart from the familiar semantic element of the city.The rural noir must also cause us to reconsider— beyond rural representations or film noir— more generally pitched genre theories. Consider the importance of place to film genre, the majority of which are defined by a typical setting: for melodramas, it is the family home, for Westerns, the American west, and for musicals, the stage. Thomas Schatz separates American genres according to their setting, between genres which deal with “determinate” versus “indeterminate” space:There is a vital distinction between kinds of generic settings and conflicts. Certain genres […] have conflicts that, indigenous to the environment, reflect the physical and ideological struggle for its control. […] Other genres have conflicts that are not indigenous to the locale but are the results of the conflict between the values, attitudes, and actions of its principal characters and the ‘civilised’ setting they inhabit. (26) Schatz discusses noirs, along with detective films, as films which trade in “determinate” settings, limited to the space of the city. The rural noir slips between Schatz’s dichotomy, moving past the space of the city, but not into the civilised, tame settings of the genres of “indeterminate spaces.” It is only fitting that a genre whose very definition lies in its disruption of Hollywood norms— trading high- for low-key lighting, effectual male protagonists for helpless ones, and a confident, coherent worldview for a more paranoid, unstable one would, finally, be able to accommodate a variation— the rural noir— that would seem to upset one of its central tenets, an urban locale. Considering the long list of Hollywood standards that film noirs violated, according to two of its original explicators, Raymond Borde and Etienne Chaumeton— “a logical action, an evident distinction between good and evil, well-defined characters with clear motives, scenes that are more spectacular than brutal, a heroine who is exquisitely feminine and a hero who is honest”— it should, perhaps, not be so surprising that the genre is flexible enough to accommodate the existence of the rural noir after all (14). AcknowledgmentsIn addition to M/C Journal's anonymous readers, the author would like to thank Corey Creekmur, Mike Slowik, Barbara Steinson, and Andrew Gorman-Murray for their helpful suggestions. ReferencesAltman, Rick. “A Semantic/Syntactic Approach to Film Genre.” Film Genre Reader III. Ed. Barry Keith Grant. Austin: U of Texas P, 2003. 27-41.The Asphalt Jungle. Dir. John Huston. MGM/UA, 1950.Bell, David. “Anti-Idyll: Rural Horror.” Contested Countryside Cultures. Eds. Paul Cloke and Jo Little. London, Routledge, 1997. 94-108.Bell, Jonathan F. “Shadows in the Hinterland: Rural Noir.” Architecture and Film. Ed. Mark Lamster. New York: Princeton Architectural P, 2000. 217-230.Borde, Raymond and Etienne Chaumeton. A Panorama of American Film Noir. San Francisco: City Lights Books, 2002.Christopher, Nicholas. Somewhere in the Night: Film Noir and the American City. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1997.Cowie, Elizabeth. “Film Noir and Women.” Shades of Noir. Ed. Joan Copjec. New York: Verso, 1993. 121-166.Dickos, Andrew. Street with No Name: A History of the Classic American Film Noir. Lexington: UP of Kentucky, 2002.Hirsch, Foster. Detours and Lost Highways: A Map of Neo-Noir. New York: Limelight Editions, 1999.Marx, Leo. The Machine in the Garden. New York: Oxford UP, 1964.McArthur, Colin. Underworld U.S.A. London: BFI, 1972.Moonrise. Dir. Frank Borzage. Republic, 1948.Morris, Gary. “Noir Country: Alien Nation.” Bright Lights Film Journal Nov. 2006. 13. Jun. 2008 http://www.brightlightsfilm.com/54/noircountry.htm Muller, Eddie. Dark City: The Lost World of Film Noir. New York: St. Martin’s P, 1998.Naremore, James. More Than Night: Film Noir in its Contexts. Berkeley, C.A.: U of California P, 2008.Neale, Steve. “Questions of Genre.” Film Genre Reader III. Ed. Barry Keith Grant. Austin: U of Texas P, 2003. 160-184.On Dangerous Ground. Dir. Nicholas Ray. RKO, 1951.Out of the Past. Dir. Jacques Tourneur. RKO, 1947.Place, Janey. “Women in Film Noir.” Women in Film Noir. Ed. E. Ann Kaplan. London: BFI, 1999. 47-68.Schatz, Thomas. Hollywood Genres. New York: Random House, 1981.Schatz, Thomas. “The Structural Influence: New Directions in Film Genre Study.” Film Genre Reader III. Ed. Barry Keith Grant. Austin: U of Texas P, 2003. 92-102.Silver, Alain and Elizabeth Ward. Film Noir: An Encyclopedic Reference Guide. London: Bloomsbury, 1980.They Live by Night. Dir. Nicholas Ray. RKO, 1949.Thieves’ Highway. Dir. Jules Dassin. Fox, 1949.Williams, Raymond. The Country and the City. New York: Oxford UP, 1973.

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Coordenação de Aperfeiçoamento de Pessoal de Nível Superior (CAPES)
Fundação de Amparo à Pesquisa do Estado de São Paulo (FAPESP)
A necessidade de recuperação da informação do texto narrativo ficcional infanto-juvenil levou ao desenvolvimento de pesquisa que abordou a identificação de temas, considerando aboutness e a etapa analítica da Análise Documental de Conteúdo. Tornou-se necessário efetivar os meios de representação desses textos para fins de recuperação com a etapa sintética da Análise Documental de Conteúdo, por meio do desenvolvendo do produto informacional resumo, contendo elementos do texto importantes e que respondam as necessidades informacionais de usuários potenciais. O problema de pesquisa identificado consistiu em como representar o conteúdo do texto narrativo ficcional infanto-juvenil em resumos, considerando sua estrutura textual e o aboutness proveniente do texto? A hipótese é de que a representação dos textos narrativos ficcionais infanto-juvenis em resumo deve adaptar a estrutura, a temática ou aboutness e os elementos característicos do texto narrativo ficcional para o texto do resumo. A tese consistiu em que os fundamentos teóricos do Percurso Gerativo de Sentido, Semiótica Greimasiana e Teoria da Narrativa contribuíram para subsidiar os elementos macroestruturais e superestruturais importantes a serem usados de modo adaptado nos resumos dos textos narrativos ficcionais infanto-juvenis. A proposição consistiu no estudo dos fundamentos teóricos para elaboração de resumos de textos narrativos ficcionais infanto-juvenis em Análise Documental de Conteúdo, e dos elementos macroestruturais e superestruturais da Linguística Textual, do aboutness proveniente do Percurso Gerativo de Sentido advindo da Análise do Discurso e Semiótica Greimasiana, e dos elementos que caracterizam o texto narrativo ficcional da Teoria da Narrativa. Objetivou-se desenvolver procedimentos de elaboração de resumos de textos narrativos ficcionais infanto-juvenis, no âmbito da Análise Documental de Conteúdo, para fins de representação de seus aspectos estruturais, temáticos ou de aboutness e característicos, entendidos por meio do Percurso Gerativo de Sentido, Semiótica Greimasiana e Teoria da Narrativa. Utilizou-se a metodologia de estudo exploratório, que permitiu analisar diferentes teorias, de diferentes áreas do conhecimento, para o desenvolvimento de procedimentos de elaboração de resumos, a fim de aplicar esses procedimentos em amostra de textos narrativos ficcionais infanto-juvenis. Verificou-se que os procedimentos de elaboração de resumos de textos narrativos ficcionais infanto-juvenis devem considerar a representação segundo os aspectos do conteúdo e estrutura do texto para recuperação da informação, que consistiram em temáticas, personagem, espaço, tempo da história, tipo de narrador, tempo da narrativa e tipos de gêneros literários. A seleção desses elementos textuais norteou os procedimentos de leitura e representação, pois, são procedimentos complementares que têm em comum a utilização dos aspectos importantes da superestrutura e macroestrutura, além do apoio de estratégias metacognitivas. A aplicação dos procedimentos propostos de elaboração de resumos na amostra considerou a adaptação da estrutura e temática dos textos narrativos ficcionais infanto-juvenis para os resumos. Verificou-se ainda que os procedimentos de representação em resumos de textos narrativos ficcionais infanto-juvenis puderam ser desenvolvidos, considerando o embasamento teórico e os procedimentos propostos, respeitando a estrutura e aboutness advindos do texto.
The need to retrieve information of infant-juvenile fictional narrative text led to the development of research that discussed the identification of themes considering aboutness and analytical phase of Documentary Content Analysis. It was necessary to bring about ways of representing those texts for retrieval with the synthetic phase of Documentary Content Analysis, by means of developing the informational product abstract, containing important text elements and answer for information needs of potential users. The problem of the research is how to represent the content of infant-juvenile fictional narrative text in abstracts, considering their textual structure and aboutness from the text? The hypothesis is that the representation of infant-juvenile fictional narrative text in abstract requires adapted structure, theme or aboutness and the characteristic elements of fictional narrative text for the text of the abstract. The thesis considered that the theoretical foundations of the Generative Sense Course, Greimasian Semiotic and Theory of Narrative contributed to subsidize the important macro structural and super structural elements to be used in an adapted way in abstracts of infant-juvenile fictional narrative text. The proposition consisted in the study of theoretical foundations for elaboration of abstracts of infant-juvenile fictional narrative text in Documentary Content Analysis, and macro structural and super structural elements of Text Linguistics, aboutness from the Generative Sense Course, arising from Discourse Analysis and Semiotic Greimasian, and elements that characterize fictional narrative text of the Narrative Theory. The goal was to develop procedures of infant-juvenile fictional narrative text abstracts, in the range of the Documentary Content Analysis for representation of their structural, thematic or aboutness and characteristic aspects, understood through the Generative Sense Course, Greimasian Semiotic and Theory of Narrative. The exploratory study methodology, which allowed analysis of different theories from different knowledge areas, was used to develop procedures for abstracts elaboration, in order to apply these procedures in sample of infant-juvenile fictional narrative text. The elaboration procedures of abstracts for infant-juvenile fictional narrative text should consider the representation according to the aspects of text structure and content for information retrieval of theme, character, story space, story time, narrator, time of narrative and types of literary genres, should also be considered. The selection of these textual elements guided the reading and representation procedures, for they are complementary procedures that have in common the use of the important aspects of the superstructure and macrostructure, besides the support of metacognitive strategies. The application of procedures for elaboration of abstracts in the sample considered the adjustment of structure and theme for these abstracts of infant-juvenile fictional narrative text. Procedures for representation in abstracts for youth fictional narrative text could be developed, considering theoretical basis and proposed procedures, respecting the structure and aboutness following the text.
FAPESP: 2012/24229-4

Bradbury’s fascination with genre fiction art resulted in “1982: A Helicon Year for the Artists of Science Fiction.” Chapter 19 goes on to describe how Byron Preiss assembled a range of well-known artists to illustrate a new collection of Bradbury stories, Dinosaur Tales. These included Gahan Wilson, Jim Steranko, Jean Henri Giraud, David Wiesner, and Overton Loyd. The chapter also explores Bradbury’s high regard for traditional poets Phyllis McGinley and Helen Bevington in the context of his second and third Knopf volumes of his own poetry. The chapter concludes with Bradbury’s ill-fated collaboration with Japanese producer Yutaka Fujioka, Roger Allers, and Chris Lane on the juvenile animated feature, Little Nemo in Slumberland, inspired by the comic strip character by Winsor McCay.

Abstract The genesis of the material in this section derives from a decades-old debate about the extent to which an arbitral award’s validity should depend on the law of the country where the proceedings are held. The problem is complex not only because it implicates several legal systems, but also because the place of arbitration sometimes represents a legal fiction. An “arbitral seat” is often designated (by the contract or the arbitral institution) to serve as the official venue at which the award is deemed made, notwithstanding that hearings and deliberations unfold elsewhere for the convenience of witnesses, counsel, and arbitrators. The context for this well-known line from Juvenal’s Sixth Satire has been all but forgotten, perhaps wisely so. In suggesting that husbands lock up their wives to safeguard their chastity (seemingly a preoccupation in ancient Rome) Juvenal slyly adds, “But who will guard the guards themselves? Your wife is as cunning as you, and begins with them.” Sed quis custodiet ipsos Custodes? Cauta est et ab illis incipit uxor. See Juvenal, Satires VI(The Ways of Women), 347.

A range of elements in Burton’s multi-volume History are analysed as reflecting the characteristics of nineteenth-century romantic literature. These include the habit of ‘performative’ authorship. In addition, many events are conveyed in passages whose narrative incorporates romantic language and associations, including allusions to romantic literature, particularly the works of Walter Scott. Besides romantic content – at times incorporated despite the author’s explicit scepticism on their sources – it is argued his approach includes an identifiably romantic methodology. This is characterised by an emphasis on attending to the actual words and language of the sources, and a search, partly achieved through such attention, for the ‘spirit of the times’: the past should be understood on its own terms. The extent to which this approach involves the inclusion of source passages in the Scots language, and in the characteristic expressions of Scottish religiosity, is highlighted. The formative influences shaping these features in Burton’s work are then traced in the manuscript evidence of his literary juvenilia; his early familiarity with romantic fiction and poetry, particularly Scott; his admiration for T. B. Macaulay and Macaulay’s early essay on History; and his enthused response to the historiographic approach of P.F. Tytler.