Journal articles on the topic 'Ernst Emil'

The reopening of the University of Tartu (1802) fell into the period when the society’s needs for science and educated people were increasing rapidly. Universities became the most important research institutions, and their lecturers were not merely teachers but professional scientists. German higher education fostered ties with the most significant research centres of that time’s world. The current article views the pioneering embryological research done at the Old Anatomical Theatre, which has made the names of these scientists known in the whole world and brought honour and fame to the University of Tartu. The article describes the embryological studies by Karl Friedrich Burdach, Martin Heinrich Rathke, Carl Bogislaus Reichert, Ernst Reissner, Emil Woldermar Rosenberg, Carl Wilhelm von Kupffer, Arthur Boettcher (Böttcher), Karl Dietrich Barfurth, Maximilian Gustav Christian Carl Braun, August Antonius Rauber and Nikolai Czermak.

In this interesting work, the authors set out to study the effect of daily consumption of average doses of alcohol on the intellectual performance (Leistungsfhigkeit) of a person. The experiments were carried out on two persons, doctors, of which A. 38 y., Full abstinence, and B 26 y. also unaccustomed to the correct use of alcoholic beverages. They received 80 grams of alcoh daily, most often before bedtime. abs. diluted with water, that is, the amount of alcohol, which is approximately contained in 2 liters of beer (which is generally considered to be moderate). With the observance of the possible correct mental and physical regime of the given persons, psychological work began daily at 9 am and lasted 2 hours without a break (each type of experiment was half an hour).

Recent explorations into Sigmund Freud's intellectual development by Frank Sulloway and Lucille Ritvo have directed attention to the significance of evolutionary theory for psychoanalysis. In this paper I shall pursue the exploration by showing how Darwin was received by members of the so-called Helmholtz circle (Hermann von Helmholtz, Emil du Bois-Reymond, Ernst Brücke) and certain of Freud's teachers in the University of Vienna medical school. I will make the point that the Leibniz–Kant background of these several scientists was important for this reception. I will argue that the Leibniz–Kant tradition came forward to Freud by two roads, Helmholtz's unconscious inference as foundation for a physiology of the senses, and Arthur Schopenhauer's not unrelated uses of the principle of sufficient reason to explain the possibility of lawlikeness in a universe of lawless energies. Finally, I will suggest ways in which Freud received and used the tradition.

This paper aims to investigate the character and etiological basis of German poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s mental disorder. From 1898, German neuropsychiatrist Paul Julius Möbius developed the hypothesis that Goethe’s work provided several hints for the notion that the German poet suffered from a distinct bipolar disorder. The paper investigates Möbius’s psychopathographic study on Goethe and his hypothesis of a mood periodicity in Goethe against the mirror of modern concepts. Möbius came to the conclusion that Goethe’s illness was bipolar in character and became visible at intervals of seven years and lasted for about two years. The majority of Möbius’s contemporary psychiatric colleagues (Emil Kraepelin, Max Isserlin, Ernst Kretschmer, Josef Breuer) supported this view which has still not been convincingly challenged. In present-day terms, Möbius’s hypothesis can be best mirrored as a subclinical foundation of mood disorder. Furthermore, with his extensive study, Möbius disproved the common notion that Goethe had suffered from an illness as the result of a syphilitic infection.

ZusammenfassungEmil Kraepelin (1856–1926) gilt auch in Russland als bedeutender Psychiater. Hinzukommt, dass Kraepelin selbst im Russischen Reich tätig war – und zwar in den Jahren 1886 bis 1891 in Dorpat, dem heutigen Tartu in Estland. Wir gingen der Frage nach, ob die Popularität auf genau dieser Dorpater Zeit beruht. Es konnte gezeigt werden, dass – obwohl jene Jahre für das Schaffen Kraepelins von Bedeutung waren – sie nicht wesentlich zu seiner Popularität in Russland beitrugen. Übersetzungen von Kraepelins Schriften ins Russische liegen erst aus dem Zeitraum vor, in dem Kraepelin die Lehrstühle in Heidelberg bzw. in München innehatte. Zudem war es keinem seiner Dorpater Studenten und Doktoranden vergönnt, eine Position zu erreichen, die es ihm ermöglicht hätte, zu einem einflussreichen Protagonisten Kraepelinscher Lehren zu werden.Die Kraepelin-Rezeption war im Russischen Reich und in der Sowjetunion höchst uneinheitlich. Zeitweise wurden rückblickend seine Dorpater experimentalpsychologischen Arbeiten gewürdigt – vor allem im Zusammenhang mit dem Aufstieg der Reflexologie in der russischen und vor allem frühen sowjetischen Psychiatrie, später wurden vor allem Kraepelins Verdienste um die Klassifikation psychiatrischer Erkrankungen herausgestellt.

Jedes Archiv kennt sie. Die Bestandskisten, die sich nicht einreihen lassen in die eigene Sammlung und deshalb erst einmal zurückgestellt werden. So auch ein Filmnachlass aus dem Archiv der Bibliothek für Zeitgeschichte (BfZ) der 2019 wiederentdeckt wurde. Die Filmrollen wurden zusammen mit zahlreichen Schwarz-Weiß-Negativen und einem Fotoalbum schon vor mehreren Jahrzehnten – vermutlich in den 1980er Jahren – an die BfZ abgegeben. Es handelt sich um die privaten Aufnahmen des Soldaten Emil Brater, die wenige Jahre vor und während des Zweiten Weltkrieges entstanden sind. In einer Kooperation mit der Landesfilmsammlung Baden-Württemberg war es möglich die Filme nach langer Zeit endlich zu sichten. Der Beitrag stellt diesen Bestand anhand von Beispielen genauer vor.

Članak tumači impresionističke elemente u pripovijetci „Mor“ Đure Sudete pozivajući se poglavito na postavke o impresionizmu Viktora Žmegača, teorije lirskoga Emila Staigera i percepcije zbilje Ernsta Macha. Autori proučavaju odnose ljudskoga tijela i prirode, probleme vremena i subjekta te iznose modernističke elemente nestabilnosti subjekta u obzoru glavnoga lika Mora, protagonistkinje Šu i njezina oca. Tekst također ukazuje na stilsku blizinu Sudetina Mora s drugim junacima iz modernističkoga razdoblja hrvatske književnosti, osobito Leskovarovih Marcela Bušinskoga i Đure Martića te Kozarčeva Đuke Begovića.

Al final de su obra Emile Durkheim detectó como problema básico de la vida moderna la ausencia de referencias de valor con las que reencantar una sociedad descoyuntada por sus desajustes funcionales y por la anomía resultante. Fruto de lo cual, profundizó en el carácter regenerador de la experiencia religiosa de toda vida colectiva (especialmente con la vista puesta en el totemismo de las sociedades australianas), en sus representaciones de transcendencia revitalizadora del cuerpo nómico- normativo de la vida social, pero, al mismo tiempo, redujo su simbólica a mera reproducción, copia o remedo de los esquemas de organización institucional de cada forma de vida. Frente a esta visión, el filósofo neokantiano Ernst Cassirer hace de la experiencia religiosa un modo de aprehender la realidad irreductible al científico, artístico, lingüístico, etc.

Der Psychiater Emil Kraepelin (1856-1926) war eng mit der Entstehung der Abstinenzbewegung in Deutschland um 1900 verbunden. Sein persönlicher Alkoholkonsum entsprach zunächst durchaus den zeittypischen Gewohnheiten; erst 1895 entschloss er sich zur Totalabstinenz. Hierfür dürften weniger die Ergebnisse von Kraepelins experimentalpsychologischen Untersuchungen über die psychotropen Wirkungen des Alkohols verantwortlich gewesen sein, sondern eher der wachsende Einfluss der Degenerationstherapie und der Rassenhygiene auf sein ätiologisches und therapeutisch-prophylaktisches Denken. Zur Eindämmung des »Zivilisationsgiftes« Alkohol engagierte sich Kraepelin in vielfältigen praktischen Aktivitäten. Der rassenhygienische Hintergrund der Abstinenzbewegung um 1900 spiegelt generell die Bedeutung der jeweils vorherrschenden medizinischen Krankheitskonzepte für die Haltung gegenüber potenziell abhängigkeitserzeugenden Substanzen wider.

Ernest Lluch, en el prólogo (abril de 1973) a la edición de su tesis, citaba a «Francese Roca, de quien espero —escribía— trabajos paralelos que ya han empezado a aparecer».Años más tarde, Juan Velarde, después de una lectura atenta y organizada de uno de los primeros resultados globales de este trabajo pararelo, señalaba:1) que se trataba de un grupo de trabajo (formado inicialmente por Francesc Artal, Emili Gasch, Carme Massana y Francesc Roca); y2) que existía una filiatión, una genealogía Valdeavellano-Estapé-Lluch-Artal/Gasch/Massana/Roca. Poco después, Estapé recogería la idea haciéndola suya.

Where do revolutions come from? Where do they begin? How are we to understand, and where should we locate, the beginnings of the Egyptian Revolution of 25 January 2011? These are the questions at the heart of this essay. After a survey of the ideas of Hannah Arendt on revolution, Jacques Derrida on the messianic and Ernst Bloch and Herbert Marcuse on the intersection between desire and political action, selected works by Naguib Mahfouz (The Day the Leader Was Killed, Morning and Evening Talk) and Gamal al-Ghitani (The Za'farani Files) are read as texts with a prognostic value, ones that emit signs of the revolution to come. Through the repeated pattern of failures of desire that recurs frequently in novels written during the presidencies of Anwar Sadat and Hosni Mubarak, the conditions of impotence and anhedonia associated with the advent of capitalism become symptomatic of a dysfunctional and hopelessly corrupt society. In this framework, the articulation of desire becomes the first step towards revolution.

Ernest Newman (1868–1959) first proposed a biography of Berlioz in the 1890s. A schedule for its research and writing was hatched, an agreement was made with a publisher for its manufacture, and Newman promptly set to work on the project. Alas, like so many other book projects Newman commenced in the 1890s, the Berlioz biography was never completed. Even though sketches or drafts of the book do not survive, there is plenty of evidence of the methodology and structure that Newman proposed for the book, for a work-in-progress article, ‘The prose of Berlioz,’ was published in the Chord in June 1899. It is a remarkable essay for its engagement with Berlioz's prose works and for its theorizing on musical biography. I illustrate that Newman's biographical method was partly inspired by the work of Emile Hennequin (1858–93), and was an approach that Newman had previously used in some of his literary criticism. However, I argue that despite Newman's claim of Hennequin's influence, the article's wider influence came from a larger pool of writers working on style theory, including Walter Pater, Walter Raleigh and J.A. Symonds.

Zusammenfassung Mit der soeben verabschiedeten Verordnung über einen Rahmen für die Sanierung und Abwicklung zentraler Gegenparteien schließt die Europäische Union eine Lücke in dem 2012 mit der Marktinfrastrukturverordnung (EMIR) eingeführten Regulierungsrahmen für zentrale Gegenparteien – und betritt zugleich weitgehend Neuland: Nachdem der deutsche Gesetzgeber im Vorgriff auf die Verordnung erst 2020 Sondervorschriften für die Sanierung und Abwicklung zentraler Gegenparteien erlassen hatte, schafft der neue Rechtsakt erstmals europaweit einen umfassenden Rechtsrahmen für die Sanierung und Abwicklung für Institutionen, die infolge der seit der globalen Finanzkrise 2007 – 2009 eingeführten Verpflichtung zum zentralen Clearing von OTC-Derivaten erheblich nicht nur an wirtschaftlicher Bedeutung, sondern auch an Systemrelevanz gewonnen haben. Der Beitrag analysiert die damit eingeführten Neuerungen.

ABSTRACTHistories of the Jews are a fundamental and polemical aspect of Christian and especially Protestant historiography in the nineteenth century. This article considers, in their context, the five most popular and influential multi-volume histories published in Britain, namely those of Henry Hart Milman, Heinrich Ewald, Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, Ernest Renan (the one significant – lapsed – Catholic historian in the tradition), and Emil Schürer. It shows how each of these major historians constructs an opposition between Alexandrian Judaism and Palestinian Judaism, a hierarchical opposition which denigrated Alexandrian Judaism as a betrayal or corruption of true religion because it depended on an assimilation of Jewishness and Greekness. The opposition of Greek and Jew was fundamental to nineteenth-century thought for a high intellectual tradition (most famously embodied in Matthew Arnold's categories of Hebraism and Hellenism). The Alexandrian Jews become for these historians an icon of a dangerous hybridity – despite the fact that the Septuagint, the Alexandrian Greek Bible, was the Bible of early Christianity. The article considers the different strategies adopted by these historians in response to this constructed opposition of Jerusalem and Alexandria, and its continuing implications for the historiography of the Hellenistic world.

ABSTRACTThe remarkable rescue of Shackleton's men from Elephant Island, after the sinking of Endurance, and from Ross Island, has been recounted many times by both participants and historians. There has been little critical examination of the part played by governments, nor assessment of some of Shackleton's own actions. In this paper we explore more fully from official British archival sources the extent to which the British Government was prepared to underwrite the rescue efforts; the importance of the plea made by Emily Shackleton directly to the Prime Minister; the role and actions of the Relief Advisory Committee (especially in respect of limiting Shackleton's actions); the significance of the media rights to the debt-laden expedition, and how such preoccupation could have influenced Shackleton's endeavour to rescue his marooned parties.

Background:Excessive activation of fibroblasts with a TGFβ-biased gene signature and deposition of extracellular matrix are key features of fibrotic diseases. The mechanisms underlying these transcriptional changes remain poorly understood. Deregulation, mutations and malfunctions of transcriptional co-regulators, which can interact with multiple transcription factors and enable a broad-spectrum regulation of transcriptional networks, have been implicated as driving factors in a large number of diseases and pathologies.Objectives:In the present study, we aimed to analyze the role of the co-regulator Nuclear Receptor Co-Activator 3 (NCOA3) in fibroblast activation and tissue fibrosis, and to evaluate a potential interaction of NCOA3 with fibrosis-relevant transcription factors.Methods:NCOA3 was inhibited genetically by siRNA transfection and pharmacologically by the SRC3 inhibitor-2 (SI-2). We performed bulk RNASeq of human dermal fibroblasts and in silico transcription factor binding site screening of differentially expressed genes (DEGs). The interaction of NCOA3 and TGFβ-SMAD signaling was analyzed by reporter and CoIP assays.Results:The expression of NCOA3 in skin biopsies of SSc patients compared to normal controls demonstrated that SSc fibroblasts express modestly, but significantly reduced levels of NCOA3, which persisted in cultured SSc fibroblasts. Stimulation of normal fibroblasts with chronically high levels of TGFβ as they also occur in fibrotic tissue remodeling strongly decreased NCOA3 expression to a similar extent as in SSc fibroblasts. Furthermore, NCOA3 expression is also deregulated in different murine models of skin fibrosis. To investigate the functional effects of decreased NCOA3 levels, we targeted the expression of NCOA3 in normal fibroblasts. SiRNA-mediated knockdown of NCOA3 ameliorated TGFβ-induced gene expression, collagen release, myofibroblast differentiation and cell proliferation. In contrast, knockdown of NCOA3 had no effects on collagen release, expression of contractile proteins or gene expression in unstimulated fibroblasts, suggesting that NCOA3 is not required for cellular homeostasis. To characterize the molecular mechanisms, we performed RNASeq upon NCOA3 knockdown. We identified 343 significant differentially expressed genes (220 downregulated and 123 upregulated with a Benjamini-Hochberg false discovery rate FDR < 0.25 and fold change > 1.5) between TGFβ-stimulated fibroblasts with and without NCOA3 knockdown (NCOA3-DEGs) including the fibrosis-relevant genes EDNRB, COL5A3, HES1, IL11 or IL33. Functional analysis of the NCOA3-DEGs showed enrichment of pathway terms such as collagen binding and extracellular matrix organization. In silico screening of the promoters of the NCOA3-DEGs for potential transcription factor binding motifs revealed binding motifs of core transcription factors of fibroblast activation and tissue fibrosis such as SMAD2/3/4, RBPJ, ZEB1, TCF4, REL, and SNAIL2 amongst the downregulated NCOA3-DEGs. Experimental validation of our biostatistical results using SMAD3 as example demonstrated a higher percentage of NCOA3-pSMAD3 double-positive fibroblasts in skin sections of SSc patients compared to healthy controls. In addition, knockdown of NCOA3 reduced TGFβ-induced SMAD-reporter activity. Furthermore, stimulation with TGFβ increased the interaction of NCOA3 with SMAD3 as analyzed by co-immunoprecipitation. Simultaneous knockdown of NCOA3 and SMAD3 showed no additional reductions compared to the single knockdowns, suggesting that NCOA3 controls SMAD3-dependent gene transcription under fibrotic conditions. Finally, inhibition of NCOA3 showed anti-fibrotic effects in different murine models of experimental skin and lung fibrosis.Conclusion:Our findings characterize NCOA3 as regulator of multiple pro-fibrotic transcription programs. Pharmaceutical inhibition of NCOA3 might be a strategy to interfere simultaneously with several core pro-fibrotic mediators in fibrotic diseases such as SSc.Acknowledgements:We thank Lena Summa, Vladyslav Fedorchenko, Wolfgang Espach and Regina Kleinlein for excellent technical assistance.The study was funded by grants DI 1537/7-1, DI 1537/8-1, DI 1537/9-1 and -2, DI 1537/11-1, DI 1537/12-1, DI 1537/13-1, DI 1537/14-1, DI 1537/17-1, DE 2414/2-1, DE 2414/4-1, and RA 2506/3-1 of the German Research Foundation, SFB CRC1181 (project C01) and SFB TR221/ project number 324392634 (B04) of the German Research Foundation, grants J39, J40 and A64 of the IZKF in Erlangen, grant 2013.056.1 of the Wilhelm-Sander-Foundation, grants 2014_A47, 2014_A248 and 2014_A184 of the Else-Kröner-Fresenius-Foundation, grant 14-12-17-1-Bergmann of the ELAN-Foundation Erlangen, BMBF (Era-Net grant 01KT1801), MASCARA program, TP 2 and a Career Support Award of Medicine of the Ernst Jung Foundation.Disclosure of Interests:Clara Dees: None declared, Sebastian Poetter: None declared, Maximilian Fuchs: None declared, Christina Bergmann: None declared, Alexandru-Emil Matei: None declared, Andrea-Hermina Györfi: None declared, Alina Soare: None declared, Andreas Ramming: None declared, Paolo Ceppi: None declared, Georg Schett: None declared, Meik Kunz: None declared, Jörg H.W. Distler Consultant of: Actelion, Active Biotech, Anamar, ARXX, Bayer Pharma, Boehringer Ingelheim, Celgene, Galapagos, GSK, Inventiva, JB Therapeutics, Medac, Pfizer, RuiYi and UCB, Grant/research support from: Anamar, Active Biotech, Array Biopharma, ARXX, aTyr, BMS, Bayer Pharma, Boehringer Ingelheim, Celgene, Galapagos, GSK, Inventiva, Novartis, Sanofi-Aventis, RedX, UCB

Na početku rada primjenjuje se strukturalistički teorijsko-metodološki model “konjunktura” i “struktura dugoga trajanja”, kako bi se razjasnile promjene koje u mentalitetu kršćanskoga Zapada sa sobom donosi Calvinovo učenje, kontekstualizirajući ih u općem smis­lu putem relevantnih stranih historiografskih studija različitih autora (Pierre Chaunu, Jean Delumeau, Steven Ozment itd.). U nastavku se u središnjem dijelu rada kalvinizam promatra kao moguće ishodište, odnosno ključni uzrok kasnijega nastanka društveno-ekonomskoga sustava industrijskoga kapitalizma, u prvom redu oslanjanjem na autore poput Hilairea Belloca i Gilberta Keitha Chestertona, a zatim i druge nositelje srodnih pogleda, poput Jacquesa Maritaina, Clivea Staplesa Lewisa, Thomasa Stearnsa Eliota, Viktora Emila Frankla i Ernsta Friedricha Schumachera. Također, uzima se u obzir i mogućnost predreformacijskih promjena u odnosu dijela kršćanskoga Zapada prema kapitalu, trgovini, bankarstvu, lihvi te individualnom stjecanju imovine, o čemu u svojim radovima govori Jacques Le Goff. Naposljetku, na temelju korištene literature, iznosi se autorski zaključak o bitnim promjenama i posljedicama na društvenom i kulturnom planu, koje u okvir zapadne civilizacije unosi učenje Jeana Calvina.

The synthetic local anaesthetic Stovaïne® was commercialised in France in 1904. Its inventor, Ernest Fourneau, began his career as a pharmaceutical chemist in organic chemistry laboratories in Germany, where from 1899 to 1901 he discovered how basic research could benefit from the modern chemistry theories which had developed in Germany starting in the 1860s. Using the complex structure of cocaine, he invented an original molecule, with comparable activity, but less toxic. The knowledge and the know-how which he acquired in Germany nourished his reflection in the field of the chemistry of the relationships between structure and activity, and led him to the development of Stovaïne®. Emile Roux, Director of the Pasteur Institute in Paris,was interested in his work and invited him to head the first French therapeutic chemistry laboratory, in which research on medicinal chemistry was organised scientifically. The industrial development of new medicines resulting from the Pasteur Institute’s therapeutic chemistry laboratory was supported by the Etablissements Poulenc frères, France thus gaining international reputation in the domain of pharmaceutical chemistry.

This article reconstructs French readings and debates of German approaches toVölkerpsychologie. Irrespective of its academic credentials,Völkerpsychologiewas a symptomatic approach during a transformative period in German, and indeed European, intellectual history: based on the idea of progress—both scientific and moral—and on the belief in the primordial importance of theVolk, it represented the mindset of “ascendant liberalism” in an almost pure form. The relevance and importance ofVölkerpsychologiecan be gauged from a list of scholars and intellectuals who discussed its merits as well as its problems. Moreover, the reception ofVölkerpsychologiewas not restricted to German academics: it was in France where central elements ofVölkerpsychologiehad the most profound effect on scholars who tried to establish a social science. Some of the best-known French academics and intellectuals of the late nineteenth and the early twentieth centuries—Théodule Ribot, Célestin Bouglé, Ernest Renan, Alfred Fouillée, Emile Durkheim, and Marcel Mauss—commented extensively on the works of Moritz Lazarus, Heymann Steinthal and Wilhelm Wundt, and developed their concepts of a “social science” that would reach beyond traditional philosophy, philology and history in a close dialogue with their German colleagues. HenceVölkerpsychologiewas not a German oddity, but an integral part of the debates that led to the establishing of the modern social sciences, as its French reception shows.

AbstractSir Ernest Shackleton bought the Norwegian sealer Foca 7 in 1921 for his third Antarctic expedition and renamed it Quest. He died aboard the ship in South Georgia in January 1922, but Frank Wild took over the leadership and completed the expedition after the delayed start. The vessel returned to Norwegian ownership in 1923 but kept the name Quest. In the 1920s and 1930s, in-between sealing voyages, she was chartered out for various scientific or hunting expeditions, mostly to S valbard or the east coast of Greenland, during which many well-known explorers trod her decks, including Gunnar Isachsen, Gino Watkins, Augustine Courtauld, John Rymill, Count Eigil Knuth, Lawrence Wager, H.W. Ahlmann, Gaston Micard, Paul-Emile Victor, and John Giaever. Vital assistance was given in rescuing the survivors of the Italian airship Italia in 1928, of the Danish ship Teddy in 1924, and of several sealers at different times. Many sailors owed their lives to this little ship, which was owned by the Schjelderup family and for most years captained by Ludolf Schjelderup, who gained international fame as an expert ice pilot. On one occasion, 1936–37, the vessel overwintered at Loch Fyne in northeast Greenland. In April 1940, when the Germans invaded Norway, Quest was sealing off Newfoundland. Allied naval forces took possession of her and she was used in various capacities in Canada, Bermuda, and UK coastal waters for the rest of the war. After the war, she once again returned to the sealing business under Norwegian ownership until finally coming to grief in the ice just north of Newfoundland and sinking on 5 May 1962.

The African Diaspora: A History Through Culture, by Patrick Manning (reviewed by Joseph C. Miller) Atlas of the Transatlantic Slave Trade, by David Eltis & David Richardson (reviewed by Ted Maris-Wolf) Abolition: A History of Slavery and Antislavery, by Seymour Drescher (reviewed by Gregory E. O’Malley) Paths to Freedom: Manumission in the Atlantic World, edited by Rosemary Brana-Shute & Randy J. Sparks (reviewed by Matthew Mason) You Are All Free: The Haitian Revolution and the Abolition of Slavery, by Jeremy D. Popkin (reviewed by Philippe R. Girard) Fighting for Honor: The History of African Martial Arts in the Atlantic World, by T .J. Desch Obi (reviewed by Flávio Gomes & Antonio Liberac Cardoso Simões Pires) Working the Diaspora: The Impact of African Labor on the Anglo-American World, 1650-1850, by Frederick C. Knight (reviewed by Walter Hawthorne) The Akan Diaspora in the Americas, by Kwasi Konadu (reviewed by Ray Kea) Tradition and the Black Atlantic: Critical Theory in the African Diaspora, by Henry Louis Gates Jr. (reviewed by Deborah A. Thomas) From Africa to Jamaica: The Making of an Atlantic Slave Society, 1775-1807, by Audra A. Diptee (reviewed by D.A. Dunkley) Elections, Violence and the Democratic Process in Jamaica 1944-2007, by Amanda Sives (reviewed by Douglas Midgett) Caciques and Cemi Idols: The Web Spun by Taino Rulers between Hispaniola and Puerto Rico, by José R. Oliver (reviewed by Brian D. Bates) The Latin American Identity and the African Diaspora: Ethnogenesis in Context, by Antonio Olliz Boyd (reviewed by Dawn F. Stinchcomb) Reconstructing Racial Identity and the African Past in the Dominican Republic, by Kimberly Eison Simmons (reviewed by Ginetta E.B. Candelario) Haiti and the Haitian Diaspora in the Wider Caribbean, edited by Philippe Zacaïr (reviewed by Catherine Benoît) Duvalier’s Ghosts: Race, Diaspora, and U.S. Imperialism in Haitian Literatures, by Jana Evans Braziel (reviewed by J. Michael Dash) Mainland Passage: The Cultural Anomaly of Puerto Rico, by Ramón E. Soto-Crespo (reviewed by Guillermo B. Irizarry) Report on the Island and Diocese of Puerto Rico (1647), by Diego de Torres y Vargas (reviewed by David A. Badillo) Land Reform in Puerto Rico: Modernizing the Colonial State, 1941-1969, by Ismael García-Colón (reviewed by Ricardo Pérez) Land: Its Occupation, Management, Use and Conceptualization. The Case of the Akawaio and Arekuna of the Upper Mazaruni District, Guyana, by Audrey J. Butt Colson (reviewed by Christopher Carrico) Caribbean Religious History: An Introduction, by Ennis B. Edmonds & Michelle A . Gonzalez (reviewed by N. Samuel Murrell) The Cross and the Machete: Native Baptists of Jamaica – Identity, Ministry and Legacy, by Devon Dick (reviewed by John W. Pulis) Swimming the Christian Atlantic: Judeoconversos, Afroiberians and Amerindians in the Seventeenth Century, by Jonathan Schorsch (reviewed by Richard L. Kagan) Kosmos und Kommunikation: Weltkonzeptionen in der südamerikanischen Sprachfamilie der Cariben, by Ernst Halbmayer (reviewed by Eithne B. Carlin) That Infernal Little Cuban Republic: The United States and the Cuban Revolution, by Lars Schoultz (reviewed by Antoni Kapcia) Voice of the Leopard: African Secret Societies and Cuba, by Ivor L. Miller (reviewed by Elizabeth Pérez) Guantánamo: A Working-Class History between Empire and Revolution, by Jana K. Lipman (reviewed by Barry Carr) Packaged Vacations: Tourism Development in the Spanish Caribbean, by Evan R. Ward (reviewed by Polly Pattullo) Afro-Greeks: Dialogues Between Anglophone Caribbean Literature and Classics in the Twentieth Century, by Emily Greenwood (reviewed by Gregson Davis) Caribbean Culture: Soundings on Kamau Brathwaite, edited by Annie Paul (reviewed by Paget Henry) Libertad en cadenas: Sacrificio, aporías y perdón en las letras cubanas, by Aída Beaupied (reviewed by Stephen Fay) The Trickster Comes West: Pan-African Influence in Early Black Diasporan Narratives, by Babacar M’baye (reviewed by Olabode Ibironke) Cheddi Jagan and the Politics of Power: British Guiana’s Struggle for Independence, by Colin A. Palmer (reviewed by Jay R. Mandle) A Language of Song: Journeys in the Musical World of the African Diaspora, by Samuel Charters (reviewed by Kenneth Bilby) Man Vibes: Masculinities in Jamaican Dancehall, by Donna P. Hope (reviewed by Eric Bindler)

AbstractUntil 1933, highly renowned theatre critics of Jewish descent were dominant in the feuilletons of Berlin’s leading regional papers. In 1919, Ernst Toller, also of Jewish descent and, a year earlier, a member of the short-lived revolutionary regime in Munich, established his fame as a playwright. While serving a five year prison sentence, and until 1927, he contributed five plays to the German expressionist and post-expressionist drama, with four out of five first-night performances at the prominent Berlin stages of Max Reinhardt and Leopold Jessner. The article addresses reviews of these performances by critics such as Emil Faktor, Siegfried Jacobsohn and Alfred Kerr, asking among other questions, whether and how these critics present a viewpoint that can be seen as »Jewish« in terms of how intellectuals belonging to the Jewish minority were viewed in the Weimar Republic.

Este trabalho propõe, a partir da reflexão de Silviano Santiago (2000) sobre o entre-lugar do discurso latino-americano, inserir as práticas contemporâneas de criação baseadas em uma poética citacional, neste debate. Uma forma de diálogo com o acervo literário, sem perder de vista a realidade histórico-social excludente dos países latinos. Como parte deste estudo, a análise de uma prática de escrita literária, de gênero dramatúrgico, integrante do programa Invisível Um, que compôs uma cena a partir de quatro autores referentes - Ernest Hemingway, Emily Dickinson, Aluísio Azevedo e Ferréz - para falar da situação de abandono da população em situação de rua. Palavras-chave: Literatura. Teatro. Dramaturgia. Poéticas citacionais. Colonialismo. POETIC CITATIONS:a dramaturgical practice, a local context, a Latin American discourseABSTRACT: This article proposes a reflection about contemporary practices of citational creation, based on the proposal of Silviano Santiago (2000) about the place of the Latin American discourse. A dialogue with the literary collection and with the reality social-historical of Latin countries. As part of this study, the analysis of a practice of literary writing, of dramaturgical genre, part of the program Invisível Um, which composed a scene based on four authors - Ernest Hemingway, Emily Dickinson, Aluísio Azevedo and Ferréz - to talk about the street population. Keywords: Literature. Theater. Dramaturgy. Poetic citations. Colonialism.

04–218Barrette, Catherine (Wayne State U., USA). An analysis of foreign language achievement test drafts. Foreign Language Annals (New York, USA), 37, 1 (2004), 58–70.04–219Cho, Yeonsuk (Ballard & Tighe, California, USA; Email: ycho@ballard-tighe.com) Assessing writing: are we bound by only one method?Assessing Writing (New York, USA), 8, 3 (2003), 165–91.04–220Cumming, Alister (U. of Toronto, Canada; Email: acumming@oise.utoronto.ca). Grant, Leslie, Mulcahy-Ernt, Patricia and Powers, Donald E. A teacher-verification study of speaking and writing prototype tasks for a new TOEFL. Language Testing (London, UK), 21, 2 (2004), 107–45.04–221Pae, Tae-Il (Yeungnam U., Republic of Korea; Email: paet@gwm.sc.edu). Gender effect on reading comprehension with Korean EFL learners. System (Oxford, UK), 32 (2004), 265–81.04–222Penny, James A. (Castle Worldwide Inc., North Carolina, USA; Email: jpenny@castleworldwide.com). Reading high stakes writing samples: my life as a reader. Assessing Writing (New York, USA), 8, 3 (2003), 192–215.04–223Snellings, Patrick and Van Gelderen, Amos (U. of Amsterdam, Holland) and de Glopper, Kees. Validating a test of second language written lexical retrieval: a new measure of fluency in written language production. Language Testing (London, UK), 21, 2 (2004), 174–201.04–224Stricker, J. Lawrence (Educational Testing Service, USA). The performance of native speakers of English and ESL speakers on the computer-based TOEFL and GRE general test. Language Testing (London, UK), 21, 2 (2004), 146–73.

04–403 Ammon, Ulrich. Sprachenpolitik in Europa- unter dem vorrangigen Aspekt von Deutsch als Fremdsprache (2). [Policy towards languages in Europe with special reference to German as a foreign language (2)]. Deutsch als Fremdsprache (Leipzig, Germany), 41 (2004), 3–10.04–404 Bray, Gayle Babbitt (U. of Iowa, USA; Email: gayle-bray@uiowa.edu), Pascarella, Ernest T. and Pierson, Christopher T. Postsecondary education and some dimensions of literacy development: An exploration of longitudinal evidence. Reading Research Quarterly (Newark, USA), 39, 3 (2004), 306–330.04–405 Dufon, Margaret A. (California State U., USA). Producing a video for teaching pragmatics in the second or foreign language. Prospect (Sydney, Australia), 19, 1 (2004), 65–83.04–406 Intachakra, S. (Thammasat U., Thailand; Email: songthama@tu.ac.th). Contrastive pragmatics and language teaching: apologies and thanks in English and Thai. RELC Journal (Singapore), 35, 1 (2004), 37–62.04–407 Kerkes, Julie (California State U., Los Angeles, USA). Preparing ESL learners for self-presentation in institutional settings outside the classroom. Prospect (Sydney, Australia), 19, 1 (2004), 22–46.04–408 Kozlova, Iryna (Georgia State U., USA). Can you complain? Cross-cultural comparison of indirect complaints in Russian and American English. Prospect (Sydney, Australia), 19, 1 (2004), 84–105.04–409 McLean, Terence (Grant MacEwan College, Edmonton, Canada; Email: mcleanky@telusplanet.net). Giving students a fighting chance: pragmatics in the language classroom. TESL Canada Journal/Revue TESL du Canada (Barnaby, Canada), 21, 2 (2004), 72–92.04–410 Newton, Jonathan (Victoria U. of Wellington, New Zealand). Face-threatening talk on the factory floor: using authentic workplace interactions in language teaching. Prospect (Sydney, Australia), 19, 1 (2004), 47–64.04–411 Nichols, Susan (U. of South Australia). Literacy learning and children's social agendas in the school entry classroom. Australian Journal of Language and Literacy (Norwood, Australia), 27, 2 (2004), 101–113.04–412 Yates, Lynda (La Trobe U., Australia). The ‘secret rules of language‘: tackling pragmatics in the classroom. Prospect (Sydney, Australia), 19, 1 (2004), 3–20.

The life and scientific activities of Daniel Bovet are closely interwoven with the ‘golden years’ of pharmacology, i.e. with the exceptional development of this science from the end of the 1930s to the 1960s. Swiss by birth, French by scientific training and Italian by choice, Bovet was a citizen of Europe and free of any provincialism. Daniel Bovet was born in Neuchâtel, Switzerland, on 23 March 1907. His father, Pierre Bovet, was a professor of psychology at the University of Geneve and co-founder, with E. Claparède, of the Rousseau Institute in Geneva, later directed by Jean Piaget. His French mother, Amy Babut, was less ‘strict’ than his father, whose strong Calvinism and refusal to indulge either himself or his children Bovet often recalled. His secondary education took place in Geneva and in 1927 he graduated in natural sciences at the University of Geneva. Assistant to Professor F. Battelli at the Institute of Physiology, in 1929 he was awarded the Doctorat ès Sciences Naturelles with a thesis on zoology and comparative anatomy supervised by Professor E. Guyenot. In the same year, he joined the Institut Pasteur in Paris, then directed by Emile Roux, having been summoned by Ernest Fourneau, Director of the laboratories of Chémie Thérapeutique, to set up a pharmacological unit there. He was to remain at the Pasteur Institute for nearly 20 years. In Paris, Bovet met Filomena Nitti, daughter of Francesco Saverio Nitti, Prime Minister of Italy in 1919-1920 and exiled during the fascist era. They married in 1938 and Filomena, whose brother Federico worked with Bovet on sulfa drugs, became her husband’s life-long co-worker, sharing each step of his scientific career.

The digitisation of historical collections aims to increase global access to scientific artifacts, especially those from currently inaccessible areas. Historical collections from North Korea deposited at foreign herbaria play a fundamental role in biodiversity transformation patterns. However, the biodiversity pattern distribution in this region remains poorly understood given the severe gaps in available geographic species distribution records. Access to a dominant proportion of primary biodiversity data remains difficult for the broader scientific and environmental community. The digitisation of foreign collectors’ botanical collections of around 60,000 specimens from the Korean Peninsula before World War II is ongoing. In this paper, we aim to fill this gap by developing the first comprehensive, open-access database of biodiversity records for the Korean Peninsula. This paper provides a quantitative and general description of the specimens that Urbain Jean Faurie, Emile Joseph Taquet and Ernest Henry Wilson have collected and are kept in several herbaria. An open-access database of biodiversity records provides a simple guide to georeferencing historical collections. The first set describes E. H. Wilson’s collection of woody plants collected in the Korean Peninsula and preserved at the Harvard University Herbaria (A). This set includes 1,087 records collected from 1917 to 1918. The other collections contain specimens collected by E. J. Taquet (4,727 specimens from Quelpaert (Jeju), 1907–1914) and U. J. Faurie (3,659 specimens from North Korea and Quelpaert, 1901, 1906 and 1907). For each specimen, we recorded the species name, locality indication, collection date, collector, ecology and revision label. This set contains more than 9,400 specimens, with 22% of vascular plants from North Korea and 66% from Quelpaert (Jeju) Island. In these collections, we included some images that correspond to the specimens in this dataset.

Introduction Crime fiction is one of the world’s most popular genres. Indeed, it has been estimated that as many as one in every three new novels, published in English, is classified within the crime fiction category (Knight xi). These new entrants to the market are forced to jostle for space on bookstore and library shelves with reprints of classic crime novels; such works placed in, often fierce, competition against their contemporaries as well as many of their predecessors. Raymond Chandler, in his well-known essay The Simple Art of Murder, noted Ernest Hemingway’s observation that “the good writer competes only with the dead. The good detective story writer […] competes not only with all the unburied dead but with all the hosts of the living as well” (3). In fact, there are so many examples of crime fiction works that, as early as the 1920s, one of the original ‘Queens of Crime’, Dorothy L. Sayers, complained: It is impossible to keep track of all the detective-stories produced to-day [sic]. Book upon book, magazine upon magazine pour out from the Press, crammed with murders, thefts, arsons, frauds, conspiracies, problems, puzzles, mysteries, thrills, maniacs, crooks, poisoners, forgers, garrotters, police, spies, secret-service men, detectives, until it seems that half the world must be engaged in setting riddles for the other half to solve (95). Twenty years after Sayers wrote on the matter of the vast quantities of crime fiction available, W.H. Auden wrote one of the more famous essays on the genre: The Guilty Vicarage: Notes on the Detective Story, by an Addict. Auden is, perhaps, better known as a poet but his connection to the crime fiction genre is undisputed. As well as his poetic works that reference crime fiction and commentaries on crime fiction, one of Auden’s fellow poets, Cecil Day-Lewis, wrote a series of crime fiction novels under the pseudonym Nicholas Blake: the central protagonist of these novels, Nigel Strangeways, was modelled upon Auden (Scaggs 27). Interestingly, some writers whose names are now synonymous with the genre, such as Edgar Allan Poe and Raymond Chandler, established the link between poetry and crime fiction many years before the publication of The Guilty Vicarage. Edmund Wilson suggested that “reading detective stories is simply a kind of vice that, for silliness and minor harmfulness, ranks somewhere between crossword puzzles and smoking” (395). In the first line of The Guilty Vicarage, Auden supports Wilson’s claim and confesses that: “For me, as for many others, the reading of detective stories is an addiction like tobacco or alcohol” (406). This indicates that the genre is at best a trivial pursuit, at worst a pursuit that is bad for your health and is, increasingly, socially unacceptable, while Auden’s ideas around taste—high and low—are made clear when he declares that “detective stories have nothing to do with works of art” (406). The debates that surround genre and taste are many and varied. The mid-1920s was a point in time which had witnessed crime fiction writers produce some of the finest examples of fiction to ever be published and when readers and publishers were watching, with anticipation, as a new generation of crime fiction writers were readying themselves to enter what would become known as the genre’s Golden Age. At this time, R. Austin Freeman wrote that: By the critic and the professedly literary person the detective story is apt to be dismissed contemptuously as outside the pale of literature, to be conceived of as a type of work produced by half-educated and wholly incompetent writers for consumption by office boys, factory girls, and other persons devoid of culture and literary taste (7). This article responds to Auden’s essay and explores how crime fiction appeals to many different tastes: tastes that are acquired, change over time, are embraced, or kept as guilty secrets. In addition, this article will challenge Auden’s very narrow definition of crime fiction and suggest how Auden’s religious imagery, deployed to explain why many people choose to read crime fiction, can be incorporated into a broader popular discourse on punishment. This latter argument demonstrates that a taste for crime fiction and a taste for justice are inextricably intertwined. Crime Fiction: A Type For Every Taste Cathy Cole has observed that “crime novels are housed in their own section in many bookshops, separated from literary novels much as you’d keep a child with measles away from the rest of the class” (116). Times have changed. So too, have our tastes. Crime fiction, once sequestered in corners, now demands vast tracts of prime real estate in bookstores allowing readers to “make their way to the appropriate shelves, and begin to browse […] sorting through a wide variety of very different types of novels” (Malmgren 115). This is a result of the sheer size of the genre, noted above, as well as the genre’s expanding scope. Indeed, those who worked to re-invent crime fiction in the 1800s could not have envisaged the “taxonomic exuberance” (Derrida 206) of the writers who have defined crime fiction sub-genres, as well as how readers would respond by not only wanting to read crime fiction but also wanting to read many different types of crime fiction tailored to their particular tastes. To understand the demand for this diversity, it is important to reflect upon some of the appeal factors of crime fiction for readers. Many rules have been promulgated for the writers of crime fiction to follow. Ronald Knox produced a set of 10 rules in 1928. These included Rule 3 “Not more than one secret room or passage is allowable”, and Rule 10 “Twin brothers, and doubles generally, must not appear unless we have been duly prepared for them” (194–6). In the same year, S.S. Van Dine produced another list of 20 rules, which included Rule 3 “There must be no love interest: The business in hand is to bring a criminal to the bar of justice, not to bring a lovelorn couple to the hymeneal altar”, and Rule 7 “There simply must be a corpse in a detective novel, and the deader the corpse the better” (189–93). Some of these directives have been deliberately ignored or have become out-of-date over time while others continue to be followed in contemporary crime writing practice. In sharp contrast, there are no rules for reading this genre. Individuals are, generally, free to choose what, where, when, why, and how they read crime fiction. There are, however, different appeal factors for readers. The most common of these appeal factors, often described as doorways, are story, setting, character, and language. As the following passage explains: The story doorway beckons those who enjoy reading to find out what happens next. The setting doorway opens widest for readers who enjoy being immersed in an evocation of place or time. The doorway of character is for readers who enjoy looking at the world through others’ eyes. Readers who most appreciate skilful writing enter through the doorway of language (Wyatt online). These doorways draw readers to the crime fiction genre. There are stories that allow us to easily predict what will come next or make us hold our breath until the very last page, the books that we will cheerfully lend to a family member or a friend and those that we keep close to hand to re-read again and again. There are settings as diverse as country manors, exotic locations, and familiar city streets, places we have been and others that we might want to explore. There are characters such as the accidental sleuth, the hardboiled detective, and the refined police officer, amongst many others, the men and women—complete with idiosyncrasies and flaws—who we have grown to admire and trust. There is also the language that all writers, regardless of genre, depend upon to tell their tales. In crime fiction, even the most basic task of describing where the murder victim was found can range from words that convey the genteel—“The room of the tragedy” (Christie 62)—to the absurd: “There it was, jammed between a pallet load of best export boneless beef and half a tonne of spring lamb” (Maloney 1). These appeal factors indicate why readers might choose crime fiction over another genre, or choose one type of crime fiction over another. Yet such factors fail to explain what crime fiction is or adequately answer why the genre is devoured in such vast quantities. Firstly, crime fiction stories are those in which there is the committing of a crime, or at least the suspicion of a crime (Cole), and the story that unfolds revolves around the efforts of an amateur or professional detective to solve that crime (Scaggs). Secondly, crime fiction offers the reassurance of resolution, a guarantee that from “previous experience and from certain cultural conventions associated with this genre that ultimately the mystery will be fully explained” (Zunshine 122). For Auden, the definition of the crime novel was quite specific, and he argued that referring to the genre by “the vulgar definition, ‘a Whodunit’ is correct” (407). Auden went on to offer a basic formula stating that: “a murder occurs; many are suspected; all but one suspect, who is the murderer, are eliminated; the murderer is arrested or dies” (407). The idea of a formula is certainly a useful one, particularly when production demands—in terms of both quality and quantity—are so high, because the formula facilitates creators in the “rapid and efficient production of new works” (Cawelti 9). For contemporary crime fiction readers, the doorways to reading, discussed briefly above, have been cast wide open. Stories relying upon the basic crime fiction formula as a foundation can be gothic tales, clue puzzles, forensic procedurals, spy thrillers, hardboiled narratives, or violent crime narratives, amongst many others. The settings can be quiet villages or busy metropolises, landscapes that readers actually inhabit or that provide a form of affordable tourism. These stories can be set in the past, the here and now, or the future. Characters can range from Edgar Allan Poe’s C. Auguste Dupin to Dashiell Hammett’s Sam Spade, from Agatha Christie’s Miss Jane Marple to Kerry Greenwood’s Honourable Phryne Fisher. Similarly, language can come in numerous styles from the direct (even rough) words of Carter Brown to the literary prose of Peter Temple. Anything is possible, meaning everything is available to readers. For Auden—although he required a crime to be committed and expected that crime to be resolved—these doorways were only slightly ajar. For him, the story had to be a Whodunit; the setting had to be rural England, though a college setting was also considered suitable; the characters had to be “eccentric (aesthetically interesting individuals) and good (instinctively ethical)” and there needed to be a “completely satisfactory detective” (Sherlock Holmes, Inspector French, and Father Brown were identified as “satisfactory”); and the language descriptive and detailed (406, 409, 408). To illustrate this point, Auden’s concept of crime fiction has been plotted on a taxonomy, below, that traces the genre’s main developments over a period of three centuries. As can be seen, much of what is, today, taken for granted as being classified as crime fiction is completely excluded from Auden’s ideal. Figure 1: Taxonomy of Crime Fiction (Adapted from Franks, Murder 136) Crime Fiction: A Personal Journey I discovered crime fiction the summer before I started high school when I saw the film version of The Big Sleep starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. A few days after I had seen the film I started reading the Raymond Chandler novel of the same title, featuring his famous detective Philip Marlowe, and was transfixed by the second paragraph: The main hallway of the Sternwood place was two stories high. Over the entrance doors, which would have let in a troop of Indian elephants, there was a broad stained-glass panel showing a knight in dark armour rescuing a lady who was tied to a tree and didn’t have any clothes on but some very long and convenient hair. The knight had pushed the visor of his helmet back to be sociable, and he was fiddling with the knots on the ropes that tied the lady to the tree and not getting anywhere. I stood there and thought that if I lived in the house, I would sooner or later have to climb up there and help him. He didn’t seem to be really trying (9). John Scaggs has written that this passage indicates Marlowe is an idealised figure, a knight of romance rewritten onto the mean streets of mid-20th century Los Angeles (62); a relocation Susan Roland calls a “secular form of the divinely sanctioned knight errant on a quest for metaphysical justice” (139): my kind of guy. Like many young people I looked for adventure and escape in books, a search that was realised with Raymond Chandler and his contemporaries. On the escapism scale, these men with their stories of tough-talking detectives taking on murderers and other criminals, law enforcement officers, and the occasional femme fatale, were certainly a sharp upgrade from C.S. Lewis and the Chronicles of Narnia. After reading the works written by the pioneers of the hardboiled and roman noir traditions, I looked to other American authors such as Edgar Allan Poe who, in the mid-1800s, became the father of the modern detective story, and Thorne Smith who, in the 1920s and 1930s, produced magical realist tales with characters who often chose to dabble on the wrong side of the law. This led me to the works of British crime writers including Arthur Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie, and Dorothy L. Sayers. My personal library then became dominated by Australian writers of crime fiction, from the stories of bushrangers and convicts of the Colonial era to contemporary tales of police and private investigators. There have been various attempts to “improve” or “refine” my tastes: to convince me that serious literature is real reading and frivolous fiction is merely a distraction. Certainly, the reading of those novels, often described as classics, provide perfect combinations of beauty and brilliance. Their narratives, however, do not often result in satisfactory endings. This routinely frustrates me because, while I understand the philosophical frameworks that many writers operate within, I believe the characters of such works are too often treated unfairly in the final pages. For example, at the end of Ernest Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms, Frederick Henry “left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain” after his son is stillborn and “Mrs Henry” becomes “very ill” and dies (292–93). Another example can be found on the last page of George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four when Winston Smith “gazed up at the enormous face” and he realised that he “loved Big Brother” (311). Endings such as these provide a space for reflection about the world around us but rarely spark an immediate response of how great that world is to live in (Franks Motive). The subject matter of crime fiction does not easily facilitate fairy-tale finishes, yet, people continue to read the genre because, generally, the concluding chapter will show that justice, of some form, will be done. Punishment will be meted out to the ‘bad characters’ that have broken society’s moral or legal laws; the ‘good characters’ may experience hardships and may suffer but they will, generally, prevail. Crime Fiction: A Taste For Justice Superimposed upon Auden’s parameters around crime fiction, are his ideas of the law in the real world and how such laws are interwoven with the Christian-based system of ethics. This can be seen in Auden’s listing of three classes of crime: “(a) offenses against God and one’s neighbor or neighbors; (b) offenses against God and society; (c) offenses against God” (407). Murder, in Auden’s opinion, is a class (b) offense: for the crime fiction novel, the society reflected within the story should be one in “a state of grace, i.e., a society where there is no need of the law, no contradiction between the aesthetic individual and the ethical universal, and where murder, therefore, is the unheard-of act which precipitates a crisis” (408). Additionally, in the crime novel “as in its mirror image, the Quest for the Grail, maps (the ritual of space) and timetables (the ritual of time) are desirable. Nature should reflect its human inhabitants, i.e., it should be the Great Good Place; for the more Eden-like it is, the greater the contradiction of murder” (408). Thus, as Charles J. Rzepka notes, “according to W.H. Auden, the ‘classical’ English detective story typically re-enacts rites of scapegoating and expulsion that affirm the innocence of a community of good people supposedly ignorant of evil” (12). This premise—of good versus evil—supports Auden’s claim that the punishment of wrongdoers, particularly those who claim the “right to be omnipotent” and commit murder (409), should be swift and final: As to the murderer’s end, of the three alternatives—execution, suicide, and madness—the first is preferable; for if he commits suicide he refuses to repent, and if he goes mad he cannot repent, but if he does not repent society cannot forgive. Execution, on the other hand, is the act of atonement by which the murderer is forgiven by society (409). The unilateral endorsement of state-sanctioned murder is problematic, however, because—of the main justifications for punishment: retribution; deterrence; incapacitation; and rehabilitation (Carter Snead 1245)—punishment, in this context, focuses exclusively upon retribution and deterrence, incapacitation is achieved by default, but the idea of rehabilitation is completely ignored. This, in turn, ignores how the reading of crime fiction can be incorporated into a broader popular discourse on punishment and how a taste for crime fiction and a taste for justice are inextricably intertwined. One of the ways to explore the connection between crime fiction and justice is through the lens of Emile Durkheim’s thesis on the conscience collective which proposes punishment is a process allowing for the demonstration of group norms and the strengthening of moral boundaries. David Garland, in summarising this thesis, states: So although the modern state has a near monopoly of penal violence and controls the administration of penalties, a much wider population feels itself to be involved in the process of punishment, and supplies the context of social support and valorization within which state punishment takes place (32). It is claimed here that this “much wider population” connecting with the task of punishment can be taken further. Crime fiction, above all other forms of literary production, which, for those who do not directly contribute to the maintenance of their respective legal systems, facilitates a feeling of active participation in the penalising of a variety of perpetrators: from the issuing of fines to incarceration (Franks Punishment). Crime fiction readers are therefore, temporarily at least, direct contributors to a more stable society: one that is clearly based upon right and wrong and reliant upon the conscience collective to maintain and reaffirm order. In this context, the reader is no longer alone, with only their crime fiction novel for company, but has become an active member of “a moral framework which binds individuals to each other and to its conventions and institutions” (Garland 51). This allows crime fiction, once viewed as a “vice” (Wilson 395) or an “addiction” (Auden 406), to be seen as playing a crucial role in the preservation of social mores. It has been argued “only the most literal of literary minds would dispute the claim that fictional characters help shape the way we think of ourselves, and hence help us articulate more clearly what it means to be human” (Galgut 190). Crime fiction focuses on what it means to be human, and how complex humans are, because stories of murders, and the men and women who perpetrate and solve them, comment on what drives some people to take a life and others to avenge that life which is lost and, by extension, engages with a broad community of readers around ideas of justice and punishment. It is, furthermore, argued here that the idea of the story is one of the more important doorways for crime fiction and, more specifically, the conclusions that these stories, traditionally, offer. For Auden, the ending should be one of restoration of the spirit, as he suspected that “the typical reader of detective stories is, like myself, a person who suffers from a sense of sin” (411). In this way, the “phantasy, then, which the detective story addict indulges is the phantasy of being restored to the Garden of Eden, to a state of innocence, where he may know love as love and not as the law” (412), indicating that it was not necessarily an accident that “the detective story has flourished most in predominantly Protestant countries” (408). Today, modern crime fiction is a “broad church, where talented authors raise questions and cast light on a variety of societal and other issues through the prism of an exciting, page-turning story” (Sisterson). Moreover, our tastes in crime fiction have been tempered by a growing fear of real crime, particularly murder, “a crime of unique horror” (Hitchens 200). This has seen some readers develop a taste for crime fiction that is not produced within a framework of ecclesiastical faith but is rather grounded in reliance upon those who enact punishment in both the fictional and real worlds. As P.D. James has written: [N]ot by luck or divine intervention, but by human ingenuity, human intelligence and human courage. It confirms our hope that, despite some evidence to the contrary, we live in a beneficent and moral universe in which problems can be solved by rational means and peace and order restored from communal or personal disruption and chaos (174). Dorothy L. Sayers, despite her work to legitimise crime fiction, wrote that there: “certainly does seem a possibility that the detective story will some time come to an end, simply because the public will have learnt all the tricks” (108). Of course, many readers have “learnt all the tricks”, or most of them. This does not, however, detract from the genre’s overall appeal. We have not grown bored with, or become tired of, the formula that revolves around good and evil, and justice and punishment. Quite the opposite. Our knowledge of, as well as our faith in, the genre’s “tricks” gives a level of confidence to readers who are looking for endings that punish murderers and other wrongdoers, allowing for more satisfactory conclusions than the, rather depressing, ends given to Mr. Henry and Mr. Smith by Ernest Hemingway and George Orwell noted above. Conclusion For some, the popularity of crime fiction is a curious case indeed. When Penguin and Collins published the Marsh Million—100,000 copies each of 10 Ngaio Marsh titles in 1949—the author’s relief at the success of the project was palpable when she commented that “it was pleasant to find detective fiction being discussed as a tolerable form of reading by people whose opinion one valued” (172). More recently, upon the announcement that a Miles Franklin Award would be given to Peter Temple for his crime novel Truth, John Sutherland, a former chairman of the judges for one of the world’s most famous literary awards, suggested that submitting a crime novel for the Booker Prize would be: “like putting a donkey into the Grand National”. Much like art, fashion, food, and home furnishings or any one of the innumerable fields of activity and endeavour that are subject to opinion, there will always be those within the world of fiction who claim positions as arbiters of taste. Yet reading is intensely personal. I like a strong, well-plotted story, appreciate a carefully researched setting, and can admire elegant language, but if a character is too difficult to embrace—if I find I cannot make an emotional connection, if I find myself ambivalent about their fate—then a book is discarded as not being to my taste. It is also important to recognise that some tastes are transient. Crime fiction stories that are popular today could be forgotten tomorrow. Some stories appeal to such a broad range of tastes they are immediately included in the crime fiction canon. Yet others evolve over time to accommodate widespread changes in taste (an excellent example of this can be seen in the continual re-imagining of the stories of Sherlock Holmes). Personal tastes also adapt to our experiences and our surroundings. A book that someone adores in their 20s might be dismissed in their 40s. A storyline that was meaningful when read abroad may lose some of its magic when read at home. Personal events, from a change in employment to the loss of a loved one, can also impact upon what we want to read. Similarly, world events, such as economic crises and military conflicts, can also influence our reading preferences. Auden professed an almost insatiable appetite for crime fiction, describing the reading of detective stories as an addiction, and listed a very specific set of criteria to define the Whodunit. Today, such self-imposed restrictions are rare as, while there are many rules for writing crime fiction, there are no rules for reading this (or any other) genre. People are, generally, free to choose what, where, when, why, and how they read crime fiction, and to follow the deliberate or whimsical paths that their tastes may lay down for them. Crime fiction writers, past and present, offer: an incredible array of detective stories from the locked room to the clue puzzle; settings that range from the English country estate to city skyscrapers in glamorous locations around the world; numerous characters from cerebral sleuths who can solve a crime in their living room over a nice, hot cup of tea to weapon wielding heroes who track down villains on foot in darkened alleyways; and, language that ranges from the cultured conversations from the novels of the genre’s Golden Age to the hard-hitting terminology of forensic and legal procedurals. Overlaid on these appeal factors is the capacity of crime fiction to feed a taste for justice: to engage, vicariously at least, in the establishment of a more stable society. Of course, there are those who turn to the genre for a temporary distraction, an occasional guilty pleasure. There are those who stumble across the genre by accident or deliberately seek it out. There are also those, like Auden, who are addicted to crime fiction. So there are corpses for the conservative and dead bodies for the bloodthirsty. There is, indeed, a murder victim, and a murder story, to suit every reader’s taste. References Auden, W.H. “The Guilty Vicarage: Notes on The Detective Story, By an Addict.” Harper’s Magazine May (1948): 406–12. 1 Dec. 2013 ‹http://www.harpers.org/archive/1948/05/0033206›. Carter Snead, O. “Memory and Punishment.” Vanderbilt Law Review 64.4 (2011): 1195–264. Cawelti, John G. Adventure, Mystery and Romance: Formula Stories as Art and Popular Culture. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1976/1977. Chandler, Raymond. The Big Sleep. London: Penguin, 1939/1970. ––. The Simple Art of Murder. New York: Vintage Books, 1950/1988. Christie, Agatha. The Mysterious Affair at Styles. London: HarperCollins, 1920/2007. Cole, Cathy. Private Dicks and Feisty Chicks: An Interrogation of Crime Fiction. Fremantle: Curtin UP, 2004. Derrida, Jacques. “The Law of Genre.” Glyph 7 (1980): 202–32. Franks, Rachel. “May I Suggest Murder?: An Overview of Crime Fiction for Readers’ Advisory Services Staff.” Australian Library Journal 60.2 (2011): 133–43. ––. “Motive for Murder: Reading Crime Fiction.” The Australian Library and Information Association Biennial Conference. Sydney: Jul. 2012. ––. “Punishment by the Book: Delivering and Evading Punishment in Crime Fiction.” Inter-Disciplinary.Net 3rd Global Conference on Punishment. Oxford: Sep. 2013. Freeman, R.A. “The Art of the Detective Story.” The Art of the Mystery Story: A Collection of Critical Essays. Ed. Howard Haycraft. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1924/1947. 7–17. Galgut, E. “Poetic Faith and Prosaic Concerns: A Defense of Suspension of Disbelief.” South African Journal of Philosophy 21.3 (2002): 190–99. Garland, David. Punishment and Modern Society: A Study in Social Theory. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1993. Hemingway, Ernest. A Farewell to Arms. London: Random House, 1929/2004. ––. in R. Chandler. The Simple Art of Murder. New York: Vintage Books, 1950/1988. Hitchens, P. A Brief History of Crime: The Decline of Order, Justice and Liberty in England. London: Atlantic Books, 2003. James, P.D. Talking About Detective Fiction. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2009. Knight, Stephen. Crime Fiction since 1800: Death, Detection, Diversity, 2nd ed. New York: Palgrave Macmillian, 2010. Knox, Ronald A. “Club Rules: The 10 Commandments for Detective Novelists, 1928.” Ronald Knox Society of North America. 1 Dec. 2013 ‹http://www.ronaldknoxsociety.com/detective.html›. Malmgren, C.D. “Anatomy of Murder: Mystery, Detective and Crime Fiction.” Journal of Popular Culture Spring (1997): 115–21. Maloney, Shane. The Murray Whelan Trilogy: Stiff, The Brush-Off and Nice Try. Melbourne: Text Publishing, 1994/2008. Marsh, Ngaio in J. Drayton. Ngaio Marsh: Her Life in Crime. Auckland: Harper Collins, 2008. Orwell, George. Nineteen Eighty-Four. London: Penguin Books, 1949/1989. Roland, Susan. From Agatha Christie to Ruth Rendell: British Women Writers in Detective and Crime Fiction. London: Palgrave, 2001. Rzepka, Charles J. Detective Fiction. Cambridge: Polity, 2005. Sayers, Dorothy L. “The Omnibus of Crime.” The Art of the Mystery Story: A Collection of Critical Essays. Ed. Howard Haycraft. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1928/1947. 71–109. Scaggs, John. Crime Fiction: The New Critical Idiom. London: Routledge, 2005. Sisterson, C. “Battle for the Marsh: Awards 2013.” Black Mask: Pulps, Noir and News of Same. 1 Jan. 2014 http://www.blackmask.com/category/awards-2013/ Sutherland, John. in A. Flood. “Could Miles Franklin turn the Booker Prize to Crime?” The Guardian. 1 Jan. 2014 ‹http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/jun/25/miles-franklin-booker-prize-crime›. Van Dine, S.S. “Twenty Rules for Writing Detective Stories.” The Art of the Mystery Story: A Collection of Critical Essays. Ed. Howard Haycraft. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1928/1947. 189-93. Wilson, Edmund. “Who Cares Who Killed Roger Ackroyd.” The Art of the Mystery Story: A Collection of Critical Essays. Ed. Howard Haycraft. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1944/1947. 390–97. Wyatt, N. “Redefining RA: A RA Big Think.” Library Journal Online. 1 Jan. 2014 ‹http://lj.libraryjournal.com/2007/07/ljarchives/lj-series-redefining-ra-an-ra-big-think›. Zunshine, Lisa. Why We Read Fiction: Theory of Mind and the Novel. Columbus: Ohio State UP, 2006.

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.