Journal articles on the topic 'George Reynolds'

This article proposes an alternative reading of Charles Dickens's Bleak House (1852–3), by attempting to recreate the reading experience of the first audience of this now well-studied novel. A comparison is made between key scenes in Bleak House and similar scenes in the first volume of George William Macarthur Reynolds's The Mysteries of London (1844), to demonstrate the differing literary styles of these two popular writers. The article draws on contemporary non-fiction, including George Alfred Walker's Gatherings from Grave Yards (1839) and several news articles, as well as more recent scholarship on Dickens to place the representations of graveyards in the novels of Reynolds and Dickens within the larger discussion of the necessity of sanitary reform in London at the time. The article argues that a proper consideration of this context enriches our understanding of the thematic structure of Bleak House.

We investigate similarity solutions for the outer part of a zero-pressure-gradient turbulent boundary layer in the limit of infinite Reynolds number. Previous work by George (Phil. Trans. R. Soc. vol. 365, 2007 p. 789) has suggested that the only appropriate velocity scale for the outer region is U1, the free-stream velocity. This is based on the fact that scaling with U1 leads to a mathematically valid similarity solution of the momentum equation for the outer region in the asymptotic limit of infinite Reynolds number. Here we show that the classical scaling using the friction velocity also leads to a valid similarity solution for the outer flow in this limit. Therefore on this basis it is not possible to dismiss the friction velocity as a possible scaling as has been suggested by George (2007) and others. We show that both the free-stream velocity and the friction velocity are potentially valid scalings according to this theoretical criterion.

AbstractA new theory for the streamwise turbulent fluctuations in fully developed pipe flow is proposed. The theory extends the similarities between the mean flow and the streamwise turbulence fluctuations, as observed in experimental high Reynolds number data, to also include the theoretical derivation. Connecting the derivation of the fluctuations to that of the mean velocity at finite Reynolds number as introduced by Wosnik, Castillo & George (J. Fluid Mech., vol. 421, 2000, pp. 115–145) can explain the logarithmic behaviour as well as the coefficient of the logarithm. The slope of the logarithm, for the fluctuations, depends on the increase of the fluctuations with Reynolds number, which is shown to agree very well with the experimental data. A mesolayer, similar to that introduced by Wosnik et al., exists for the fluctuations for $300\gt {y}^{+ } \gt 800$, which coincides with the mesolayer for the mean velocities. In the mesolayer, the flow is still affected by viscosity, which shows up as a decrease in the fluctuations.

Interview with Michael A. Reynolds, Director of the Program in Russian, East European and Eurasian Studies and Associate Professor in the Department of Near Eastern Studies of Princeton University, USAMichael A. Reynolds is an American historian and political analyst. His teaching and research range over the geography of the Middle East and Eurasia and covers the themes of empire, international relations, nationalism, geopolitics, ethnic confl ict, and religion and culture. He is the author of Shattering Empires: The Clash and Collapse of the Ottoman and Russian Empires, 1908-1918 (Cambridge University Press, 2011), co-winner of the 2011 American Historical Association’s George Louis Beer Prize, a Financial Times book of the summer, and a Choice outstanding academic title. He is the editor of Constellations of the Caucasus: Empires, Peoples, and Faiths (Markus Weiner, 2016). Reynolds also writes on contemporary issues related to Turkey, Russia, the Caucasus region and U.S. foreign policy. His writings have appeared in The Wall Street Journal, The Los Angeles Times, Newsweek, The National Interest, and War on the Rocks, among other venues. He holds a PhD in Near Eastern Studies from Princeton and an MA in Political Science from Columbia.

David S. Reynolds, “Deformance, Performativity, Posthumanism: The Subversive Style and Radical Politics of George Lippard’s The Quaker City” (pp. 36–64) The most interesting American example of the genre known as city-mysteries fiction, George Lippard’s The Quaker City (1844–45), while rich in characters, stymies the novelistic stability conventionally provided by the struggles of heroes against villains in the mystery genre. Lippard’s style thus gets foregrounded as the locus of morality and politics, displaying an acerbic, presurrealistic edge. The current essay surveys linguistic and generic deformations (alinear narrative, irony and parody, bizarre tropes, performativity, and periperformativity) and biological and material deformations (posthuman images, including animals, objects, sonic effects, and vibrant matter) in The Quaker City to suggest how Lippard stylistically reinforces his goal of satirizing literary and social conventions and of exposing what he regards as hypocrisy and corruption on the part of America’s ruling class.

On 17 January 1816, a new semi-operatic adaptation of A Midsummer Night's Dream opened at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, the nineteenth century's first production of the play. Since Shakespeare's time, the play had been seen only in operatic adaptations. The libretto of the new one was by Frederick Reynolds, with music by Sir Henry Rowley Bishop, and it was built on the 1763 operatic version of David Garrick and George Colman the elder. But the more interesting and historically significant text of the 1816 production was in the staging and the new pictorial scenery, whose vocabulary must be read in the light of empire.

Portrait historié is a term that describes portrayals of known individuals in different roles such as characters taken from the bible, mythology or literature. These portraits were especially widespread in the 18th century French and English art. In the hierarchy of genres established by the Academy, history painting was at the top and portraiture came next. Artists aspired to elevate the importance of portraits by combining it with history. This article will focus on goddesses selected by history portrait artists. Ladies of the nobility and female members of the royal families have been depicted as goddesses in many paintings. French artists Nicolas de Largillière, Jean Marc Nattier and Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun; English artists George Romney and Sir Joshua Reynolds can be counted among the artists working in this genre. Mythological figures such as Diana, Minerva, Venus, Hebe, Iris, Ariadne, Circe, Medea, Cassandra, Muses, Graces, Nymphs and Bacchantes inspired the artists and their sitters. Ladies were picturised with the attributes of these divine beings.

An axisymmetric jet at a diameter-based Reynolds number of 1.1 × 104 is computed by a large eddy simulation (LES) in order to investigate its self-similarity region. The LES combines low-dissipation numerical schemes and explicit filtering of the flow variables to relax energy through the smaller scales discretized. The computational domain extends up to 150 jet radii in the downstream direction, which is found to be large enough to discretize a part of this region. Turbulence in the self-preserving jet is characterized by evaluating explicitly from the LES fields the second- and third-order moments of velocity, the pressure–velocity correlations as well as the budgets for the turbulent kinetic energy and for its components. Reference solutions are thus obtained. They agree well with the experimental data given by Panchapakesan & Lumley (J. Fluid Mech., vol. 246, 1963, p. 197) for a jet at the same Reynolds number. The distance required to achieve self-similarity in the LES, around 120 radii from the inflow, is particularly similar to that in the experiment. The discrepancies observed with respect to the data provided by Panchapakesan & Lumley and by Hussein, Capp & George (J. Fluid Mech., vol. 258, 1994, p. 31) for a jet at a higher Reynolds number, specially regarding the turbulence diffusion and the dissipation, are discussed. They appear largely resulting from the approximations made in the experiments to estimate the quantities that cannot be measured with accuracy. The role of the pressure terms in the energy redistribution is also clarified by the LES. Moreover, the turbulent energy budget is calculated in the jet from an equation derived from the filtered compressible Navier–Stokes equations, which includes the dissipation due to the explicit filtering. This has allowed us to assess the behaviour of the LES approach based on relaxation filtering (LES-RF) from the contributions of filtering and viscosity to energy dissipation. The filtering activity is particularly shown to adjust by itself to the grid and flow properties.

From 8-12 August 1914, the British Association for the Advancement of Science, meeting in Australia, descended on Adelaide. The meeting included delegates from a dozen overseas countries, including many from the United Kingdom. Amongst the visiting geologists were Arthur Philemon Coleman (1852-1939) and William Morris Davis (1850-1934), Rollin Thomas Chamberlin (1881-1948) and John Walter Gregory (1864-1932), Albrecht Penck (1858-1945) and Johannes Walther (1860-1937), Alexander du Toit (1878-1948) and Hartley Travers Ferrar (1879-1932), George William Lamplugh (1859-1926) and Sydney Hugh Reynolds (1867-1949), as well as the home-based T. W. Edgeworth David (1858-1934) and Ernest Willington Skeats (1875-1953). The proceedings created immense public interest and brought science to the people in a way never before achieved in Australia. That the meeting proceeded at all is a tribute to the Australian Government, the Association, and the conference organisers, as well as the participants, for the First World War had been declared only a few days before the meeting. The interactions between the home population and the delegates, and between delegates, provide an enlightening commentary on the values and standards of our world almost a century ago.

The influence of initial flow conditions on the passive scalar field of a turbulent free jet issuing from the round nozzle is investigated in this paper by a review of the literature and a detailed experimental study. Two sets of distinctly different initial conditions are generated using two nozzle types: a smooth contraction and a long straight pipe. The present measurements of the passive scalar (temperature) field were conducted in a slightly heated air jet from each nozzle at a Reynolds number of 16 000 using identical experimental facilities and a single measurement technique. Significant differences between the flows from the two nozzles are revealed throughout the measured flow region which covers the axial range from 0 to 70 jet exit diameters. The study suggests that the differences observed in the statistics of the scalar field may be related to differences in the underlying turbulence structure of the jet in the near field. The present findings support the analytical result of George (1989) that the entire flow is influenced by the initial conditions, resulting in a variety of self-similar states in the far field.

We study the self-similarity and dissipation scalings of a turbulent planar jet and the theoretically implied mean flow scalings. Unlike turbulent wakes where such studies have already been carried out (Dairay et al. 2015 J. Fluid Mech . 781 , 166–198. ( doi:10.1017/jfm.2015.493 ); Obligado et al. 2016 Phys. Rev. Fluids 1 , 044409. ( doi:10.1103/PhysRevFluids.1. 044409)), this is a boundary-free turbulent shear flow where the local Reynolds number increases with distance from inlet. The Townsend–George theory revised by (Dairay et al. 2015 J. Fluid Mech . 781 , 166–198. ( doi:10.1017/jfm.2015.493 )) is applied to turbulent planar jets. Only a few profiles need to be self-similar in this theory. The self-similarity of mean flow, turbulence dissipation, turbulent kinetic energy and Reynolds stress profiles is supported by our experimental results from 18 to at least 54 nozzle sizes, the furthermost location investigated in this work. Furthermore, the non-equilibrium dissipation scaling found in turbulent wakes, decaying grid-generated turbulence, various instances of periodic turbulence and turbulent boundary layers (Dairay et al. 2015 J. Fluid Mech . 781 , 166–198. ( doi:10.1017/jfm.2015.493 ); Vassilicos 2015 Annu. Rev. Fluid Mech . 95 , 114. ( doi:10.1146/annurev-fluid-010814-014637 ); Goto & Vassilicos 2015 Phys. Lett. A 3790 , 1144–1148. ( doi:10.1016/j.physleta.2015.02.025 ); Nedic et al. 2017 Phys. Rev. Fluids 2 , 032601. ( doi:10.1103/PhysRevFluids.2.032601 )) is also observed in the present turbulent planar jet and in the turbulent planar jet of (Antonia et al. 1980 Phys. Fluids 23 , 863055. ( doi:10.1063/1.863055 )). Given these observations, the theory implies new mean flow and jet width scalings which are found to be consistent with our data and the data of (Antonia et al. 1980 Phys. Fluids 23 , 863055. ( doi:10.1063/1.863055 )). In particular, it implies a hitherto unknown entrainment behaviour: the ratio of characteristic cross-stream to centreline streamwise mean flow velocities decays as the −1/3 power of streamwise distance in the region, where the non-equilibrium dissipation scaling holds.

AbstractIn the early 1970s, George Carrier and coworkers undertook a modular approach to modelling the internal thermofluid-dynamics of tropical cyclones of tropical-depression-or-greater intensity. A novel, relatively simplistic, approximate analysis of the vortex, idealized as axisymmetric, was carried out in the asymptotic limit of large Reynolds number, so that inviscid and diffusive subdomains of the structure were distinguished. Little subsequent work has followed this line of investigation. The indifference has proven problematic because accurate prediction of tropical-cycling intensity remains a challenge for operational forecasting, despite decades of effort at direct integration of comprehensive boundary/initial-value formulations. A contributing factor is that, to achieve solution in real time, such computational treatment of the entire vortex invariably resorts to coarse gridding, and key features remain inadequately resolved. Accordingly, here the modular approach is revisited, with the assistance of: recent observational insights; greatly enhanced computer-processing power; and convenient computational software, which facilitates implementation of a semi-analytic, semi-numerical methodology. Focus is largely, but not exclusively, on the dynamics and energetics occurring in the nominally kilometre-thick, ocean-surface-contiguous boundary layer, especially on influx to the boundary layer and efflux therefrom. The modular approach not only permits the boundary layer, which develops its own highly significant substructure under the high-speed portion of the inviscid vortex, to be well-resolved, but also allows the layer to be investigated in the context of the other tropical-cyclone-structure subdivisions.

Fanny Burney at 15 wrote in her diary addressing her thoughts to ‘Nobody’, to her silent ‘self’ and interlocutor. Nobody learnt about this fact until her diaries were published. She became famous with her first epistolary novel about a young lady entering the world, though in the Preface to the novel the author pretended to be an editor of the letters. Her writing could be compared to contemporary blogs. Novelty and variety of subjects, personally coloured irony and wit, acute eyesight, ability to entertain a reader with an unusual insight of the ordinary event or situation (e.g., ‘Directions for Coughing, Sneezing, or Moving Before the King and Queen’), a dramatist talent to create dialogues and remember speaker’s intonation and other speech parameters, a lot of short fragments imprinting emotions and restoring the epoch in diaries and letters, - everything features her style and specifies her as a Romanticism writer. Some of the subjects could be accepted as obsolete though regarding different situations, circumstances and the performance the given descriptions of the royal household politely discussed by the Keeper of the Robe to Queen Charlotte, wife of George III, and a close acquaintance of British famous actor David Garrick (1717-1779) and even world-known painter Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792) some of the episodes described in diaries could be praised for their author’s dramatic playwright talent. Blogging in its well-written form, the one possessing style and distinguishing good literature characteristics, could be compared to diaries reflecting every instant of modern life and becoming immediately public. Freedom of female voice in Romantic era and freedom of mass-media writer and reader on the verge of Millennium are manifested in both epochs

Recent research is making progress in framing more precisely the basic dynamical and statistical questions about turbulence and in answering them. It is helping both to define the likely limits to current methods for modelling industrial and environmental turbulent flows, and to suggest new approaches to overcome these limitations. Our selective review is based on the themes and new results that emerged from more than 300 presentations during the Programme held in 1999 at the Isaac Newton Institute, Cambridge, UK, and on research reported elsewhere. A general conclusion is that, although turbulence is not a universal state of nature, there are certain statistical measures and kinematic features of the small-scale flow field that occur in most turbulent flows, while the large-scale eddy motions have qualitative similarities within particular types of turbulence defined by the mean flow, initial or boundary conditions, and in some cases, the range of Reynolds numbers involved. The forced transition to turbulence of laminar flows caused by strong external disturbances was shown to be highly dependent on their amplitude, location, and the type of flow. Global and elliptical instabilities explain much of the three-dimensional and sudden nature of the transition phenomena. A review of experimental results shows how the structure of turbulence, especially in shear flows, continues to change as the Reynolds number of the turbulence increases well above about 104 in ways that current numerical simulations cannot reproduce. Studies of the dynamics of small eddy structures and their mutual interactions indicate that there is a set of characteristic mechanisms in which vortices develop (vortex stretching, roll-up of instability sheets, formation of vortex tubes) and another set in which they break up (through instabilities and self- destructive interactions). Numerical simulations and theoretical arguments suggest that these often occur sequentially in randomly occurring cycles. The factors that determine the overall spectrum of turbulence were reviewed. For a narrow distribution of eddy scales, the form of the spectrum can be defined by characteristic forms of individual eddies. However, if the distribution covers a wide range of scales (as in elongated eddies in the ‘wall’ layer of turbulent boundary layers), they collectively determine the spectra (as assumed in classical theory). Mathematical analyses of the Navier–Stokes and Euler equations applied to eddy structures lead to certain limits being defined regarding the tendencies of the vorticity field to become infinitely large locally. Approximate solutions for eigen modes and Fourier components reveal striking features of the temporal, near-wall structure such as bursting, and of the very elongated, spatial spectra of sheared inhomogeneous turbulence; but other kinds of eddy concepts are needed in less structured parts of the turbulence. Renormalized perturbation methods can now calculate consistently, and in good agreement with experiment, the evolution of second- and third-order spectra of homogeneous and isotropic turbulence. The fact that these calculations do not explicitly include high-order moments and extreme events, suggests that they may play a minor role in the basic dynamics. New methods of approximate numerical simulations of the larger scales of turbulence or ‘very large eddy simulation’ (VLES) based on using statistical models for the smaller scales (as is common in meteorological modelling) enable some turbulent flows with a non-local and non-equilibrium structure, such as impinging or convective flows, to be calculated more efficiently than by using large eddy simulation (LES), and more accurately than by using ‘engineering’ models for statistics at a single point. Generally it is shown that where the turbulence in a fluid volume is changing rapidly and is very inhomogeneous there are flows where even the most complex ‘engineering’ Reynolds stress transport models are only satisfactory with some special adaptation; this may entail the use of transport equations for the third moments or non-universal modelling methods designed explicitly for particular types of flow. LES methods may also need flow-specific corrections for accurate modelling of different types of very high Reynolds number turbulent flow including those near rigid surfaces.This paper is dedicated to the memory of George Batchelor who was the inspiration of so much research in turbulence and who died on 30th March 2000. These results were presented at the last fluid mechanics seminar in DAMTP Cambridge that he attended in November 1999.

The article analyzed concept of the study of art by Robin George Collingwood (1889-1943), a well-known English neo-hegelian philosopher. His significant part of the theoretical heritage is connected with the explanation of the nature of art and with the consideration of its condition during the period of the changing Oscar Wilde era to the era of Rudyard Kipling. The circle of problem such as content and form, character, image, mimesis, reflection, emotion, art and "street man" identified. All of them in Collingwood's presentation and interpretation significantly expanded the space of research not only English, but also European art criticism. The concept of study of art is "built" on the basis of an active understanding of historical and cultural traditions accented. The concept of art criticism of R.G. Collingwood – a famous English philosopher of the XIX-XX centuries, on the one hand, has self-importance, and on the other, although based on the traditions of contemporary humanities, still expands art history analysis of aesthetics through aesthetics and psychology. Recognizing the exhaustion of the English model of romanticism, R.G. Collingwood tries to outline the prospects for the development of art in the logic of the movement "romanticism – realism – avant-garde", which leads to the actualization of the problem of "mimesis – reflection". At the same time, the theorist's attention is consciously concentrated around the concept of "subject", the understanding of which is radically changing at the turn of the XIX-XX centuries. Theoretical material in the presentation of R.G. Collingwood is based on the work of Shakespeare, Reynolds, Turner, Cezanne, whose experience allows us to focus on the problem of "artist and audience". It is emphasized that Collingwood's position is ahead of its time, stimulating scientific research in the European humanities. The existence of indicative tendencies, which are distinguished in the logic of European cultural creation of the historical period, is emphasized.

Novel technologies, new understanding of the basement membrane composition, and better comprehension of the embryonic development of the mammalian kidney have led to explosive growth in the use of three-dimensional in vitro models to study a range of human disease pathologies (Clevers H. Cell 165: 1586–1597, 2016; Shamir ER, Ewald AJ. Nat Rev Mol Cell Biol 15: 647–664, 2014). The development of these effective model systems represents a new tool to study the progressive cystogenesis of autosomal dominant polycystic kidney disease (ADPKD). ADPKD is a prevalent and complex monogenetic disease, characterized by the pathological formation of fluid fill cysts in renal tissue (Grantham JJ, Mulamalla S, Swenson-Fields KI. Nat Rev Nephrol 7: 556–566, 2011; Takiar V, Caplan MJ. Biochim Biophys Acta 1812: 1337–1343, 2011). ADPKD cystogenesis is attributed to loss of function mutations in either PKD1 or PKD2, which encode for two transmembrane proteins, polycystin-1 and polycystin-2, and progresses with loss of both copies of either gene through a proposed two-hit mechanism with secondary somatic mutations (Delmas P, Padilla F, Osorio N, Coste B, Raoux M, Crest M. Biochem Biophys Res Commun 322: 1374–1383, 2004; Pei Y, Watnick T, He N, Wang K, Liang Y, Parfrey P, Germino G, St George-Hyslop P. Am Soc Nephrol 10: 1524–1529, 1999; Wu G, D’Agati V, Cai Y, Markowitz G, Park JH, Reynolds DM, Maeda Y, Le TC, Hou H Jr, Kucherlapati R, Edelmann W, Somlo S. Cell 93: 177–188, 1998). The exaggerated consequences of large fluid filled cysts result in fibrosis and nephron injury, leading initially to functional compensation but ultimately to dysfunction (Grantham JJ. Am J Kidney Dis 28: 788–803, 1996; Norman J. Biochim Biophys Acta 1812: 1327–1336, 2011; Song CJ, Zimmerman KA, Henke SJ, Yoder BK. Results Probl Cell Differ 60: 323–344, 2017). The complicated disease progression has scattered focus and resources across the spectrum of ADPKD research.

Why do children always know when we want them to behave beautifully and do the opposite? No doubt Lady Cockburn thought it a delightful idea to pose as Cornelia with her children in the classical style so fashionable in 1773. Sir Joshua Reynolds has caught a moment of formal harmony just before it dissolves into all too human chaos. Who can doubt that at any second George, the imp on the right of the picture, will tighten that chubby clasp into a strangle-hold and pull down the temptingly loose coils of mother's hair? James, the child on the left, will not be slow to join in and baby William will howl as he is trampled on by his lively brothers. One small boy on his own is (sometimes) manageable; three together in any century spell trouble for grown-ups! Their mother already has a faintly strained look behind her lofty pose. She is distancing herself from the situation by fixing her eyes on the middle distance in a way well known to those who have discovered from experience that pleas, bribes, prayers and even threats cannot prevail against the exuberant life in a group of children. Will she eventually give way with good humour and indulge in a romp, or will it be smacks and tears all round and nursemaids summoned to remove the guilty parties, roaring, back to the nursery? She looks quite young in spite of the stuffy pose so who knows which way it will go. We tend to assume that youngsters in the old days were always brought up with harsh discipline. Of course life was hard and brutal for everyone and child abuse common, but many parents have also loved, petted and delighted in their children throughout the ages. The stem puritanical manuals that grate on us so much – “You must break a child's will by the age of five”, “Spare the rod and spoil the child”, “Rule by fear” – were written by disapproving experts to counteract what were seen as lax tendencies to over-fondness and spoiling of children.

The velocity field of homogeneous isotropic turbulence is simulated by a large number (38–1200) of random Fourier modes varying in space and time over a large number (> 100) of realizations. They are chosen so that the flow field has certain properties, namely (i) it satisfies continuity, (ii) the two-point Eulerian spatial spectra have a known form (e.g. the Kolmogorov inertial subrange), (iii) the time dependence is modelled by dividing the turbulence into large- and small-scales eddies, and by assuming that the large eddies advect the small eddies which also decorrelate as they are advected, (iv) the amplitudes of the large- and small-scale Fourier modes are each statistically independent and each Gaussian. The structure of the velocity field is found to be similar to that computed by direct numerical simulation with the same spectrum, although this simulation underestimates the lengths of tubes of intense vorticity.Some new results and concepts have been obtained using this kinematic simulation: (a) for the inertial subrange (which cannot yet be simulated by other means) the simulation confirms the form of the Eulerian frequency spectrum $\phi^{\rm E}_{11} = C^{\rm E}\epsilon^{\frac{2}{3}}U^{\frac{2}{3}}_0\omega^{-\frac{5}{3}}$, where ε,U0,ω are the rate of energy dissipation per unit mass, large-scale r.m.s. velocity, and frequency. For isotropic Gaussian large-scale turbulence at very high Reynolds number, CE ≈ 0.78, which is close to the computed value of 0.82; (b) for an observer moving with the large eddies the ‘Eulerian—Lagrangian’ spectrum is ϕEL11 = CELεω−2, where CEL ≈ 0.73; (c) for an observer moving with a fluid particle the Lagrangian spectrum ϕL11 = CLεω−2, where CL ≈ 0.8, a value consistent with the atmospheric turbulence measurements by Hanna (1981) and approximately equal to CEL; (d) the mean-square relative displacement of a pair of particles 〈Δ2〉 tends to the Richardson (1926) and Obukhov (1941) form 〈Δ2〉 = GΔεt3, provided that the subrange extends over four decades in energy, and a suitable origin is chosen for the time t. The constant GΔ is computed and is equal to 0.1 (which is close to Tatarski's 1960 estimate of 0.06); (e) difference statistics (i.e. displacement from the initial trajectory) of single particles are also calculated. The exact result that Y2 = GYεt3 with GY = 2πCL is approximately confirmed (although it requires an even larger inertial subrange than that for 〈Δ2〉). It is found that the ratio [Rscr ]G = 2〈Y2〉/〈Δ2〉≈ 100, whereas in previous estimates [Rscr ]G≈ 1, because for much of the time pairs of particles move together around vortical regions and only separate for the proportion of the time (of O(fc)) they spend in straining regions where streamlines diverge. It is estimated that [Rscr ]G ≈ O(fc−3). Thus relative diffusion is both a ‘structural’ (or ‘topological’) process as well as an intermittent inverse cascade process determined by increasing eddy scales as the particles separate; (f) statistics of large-scale turbulence are also computed, including the Lagrangian timescale, the pressure spectra and correlations, and these agree with predictions of Batchelor (1951), Hinzc (1975) and George et al. (1984).

In early August 1910 readers of Reynolds’s Newspaper, a radical weekly journal noted as much for its detailed coverage of divorce court proceedings as for its political radicalism (and in 1911 one of the ‘immoral’ English Sunday papers targeted by Irish ‘vigilance committees’), may have perused the weekly political column written by T.P. O’Connor. ‘T.P.’, the M.P. for Liverpool Scotland, was anything but a disinterested columnist, and with John Redmond, John Dillon and Joseph Devlin formed the inner leadership of the Irish Parliamentary Party and Ireland’s nationalist movement.Throughout the political crisis of early 1910 O’Connor had been the main London-based conduit for communications between the Irish Party and Asquith’s cabinet, and in particular Lloyd George and the Liberal chief whip, the Master of Elibank. The outcome of the January 1910 general election, which had given the balance of power in the House of Commons to the Irish nationalists, and John Redmond’s use of that power to force Asquith to act to end the veto powers of the House of Lords over parliamentary legislation, had enhanced both Redmond’s status in Ireland and the importance of home rule as an issue that had to be resolved.

-John F. Szwed, Richard Price, First-Time: the historical vision of an Afro-American people. Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, Johns Hopkins Studies in Atlantic History and Culture, 1983, 191 pp.-Thomas J. Spinner Jr., Reynold Burrowes, The Wild Coast: an account of politics in Guyana. Cambridge MA: Schenkman Publishing Company, 1984. xx + 348 pp.-Gad Heuman, Edward L. Cox, Free Coloreds in the slave societies of St. Kitts and Grenada, 1763-1833. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1984. xiii + 197 pp.-H. Michael Erisman, Anthony Payne, The international crisis in the Caribbean. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1984. 177 p.-Lester D. Langley, Richard Newfarmer, From gunboats to diplomacy: new U.S. policies for Latin America. Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1984. xxii + 254 pp.-Trevor W. Purcell, Diane J. Austin, Urban life in Kingston, Jamaica: the culture and class ideology of two neighbourhoods. New York: Gordon and Breach Science Publishers, Caribbean Studies Vol. 3, 1984. XXV + 282 PP.-Robert A. Myers, Richard B. Sheridan, Doctors and slaves: a medical and demographic history of slavery in the British West Indies, 1680-1834. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1985. xxii + 420 pp.-Michéle Baj Strobel, Christiane Bougerol, La médecine populaire á la Guadeloupe. Paris: Editions Karthala, 1983. 175 pp.-R. Parry Scott, Annette D. Ramirez de Arellano ,Colonialism, Catholicism, and contraception: a history of birth control in Puerto Rico. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1983. xii + 219 pp., Conrad Seipp (eds)-Gervasio Luis García, Francis A. Scarano, Sugar and slavery in Puerto Rico: the plantation economy of Ponce, 1800-1850. Madison WI and London: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1984. xxv + 242 pp.-Fernando Picó, Edgardo Diaz Hernandez, Castãner: una hacienda cafetalera en Puerto Rico (1868-1930). Rio Piedras, Puerto Rico: Editorial Edil, 1983. 139 pp.-John V. Lombardi, Laird W. Bergad, Coffee and the growth of agrarian capitalism in nineteenth-century Puerto Rico. Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1983. xxvii + 242 pp.-Robert A. Myers, Anthony Layng, The Carib Reserve: identity and security in the West Indies. Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1983. xxii + 177 pp.-Lise Winer, Raymond Quevedo, Atilla's Kaiso: a short history of Trinidad calypso. St. Augustine, Trinidad: Department of Extra-Mural Studies, University of the West Indies, 1983. ix + 205 pp.-Luiz R.B. Mott, B.R. Burg, Sodomy and the pirate tradition: English sea rovers in the seventeenth-century Caribbean. New York: New York University Press, 1983, xxiii + 215 pp.-Humphrey E. Lamur, Willem Koot ,De Antillianen. Muiderberg, The Netherlands: Dick Coutihno, Migranten in de Nederlandse Samenleving nr. 1, 1984. 175 pp., Anco Ringeling (eds)-Gary Brana-Shute, Paul van Gelder, Werken onder de boom: dynamiek en informale sektor: de situatie in Groot-Paramaribo, Suriname. Dordrecht, The Netherlands: Foris, 1985, xi + 313 pp.-George L. Huttar, Eddy Charry ,De Talen van Suriname: achtergronden en ontwikkelingen. With the assistance of Sita Kishna. Muiderberg, The Netherlands: Dick Coutinho, 1983. 225 pp., Geert Koefoed, Pieter Muysken (eds)-Peter Fodale, Nelly Prins-Winkel ,Papiamentu: problems and possibilities. (authors include also Luis H. Daal, Roger W. Andersen, Raúl Römer). Zutphen. The Netherlands: De Walburg Pers, 1983, 96 pp., M.C. Valeriano Salazar, Enrique Muller (eds)-Jeffrey Wiliams, Lawrence D. Carrington, Studies in Caribbean language. In collaboration with Dennis Craig & Ramon Todd Dandaré. St. Augustine, Trinidad: Society for Caribbean Linguistics, University of the West Indies, 1983. xi + 338 pp.

- Tim Behrend, Nancy K. Florida, Javanese literature in Surakarta manuscripts; Volume 2; Manuscripts of the Mangkunagaran palace. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Southeast Asia Program, 2000, 575 pp. - Harold Brookfield, Judith M. Heimann, The most offending soul alive; Tom Harrisson and his remarkable life. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 1998, 468 pp. - Harold Brookfield, Victor T. King, Rural development and social science research; Case studies from Borneo. Phillips, Maine: Borneo Research Council, 1999, xiii + 359 pp. [Borneo Research Council Proceedings Series 6.] - J.G. de Casparis, Roy E. Jordaan, The Sailendras in Central Javanese history; A survey of research from 1950 to 1999. Yogyakarta: Penerbitan Universitas Sanata Dharma, 1999, iv + 108 pp. - H.J.M. Claessen, Francoise Douaire-Marsaudon, Les premiers fruits; Parenté, identité sexuelle et pouvoirs en Polynésie occidentale (Tonga, Wallis et Futuna). Paris: Éditions de la Maison des Sciences de l’Homme, 1998, x + 338 pp. - Matthew Isaac Cohen, Andrew Beatty, Varieties of Javanese religion; An anthropological account. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999, xv + 272 pp. [Cambridge Studies in Social and Cultural Anthropology 111.] - Matthew Isaac Cohen, Sylvia Tiwon, Breaking the spell; Colonialism and literary renaissance in Indonesia. Leiden: Department of Languages and Cultures of Southeast Asia and Oceania, University of Leiden, 1999, vi + 235 pp. [Semaian 18.] - Freek Colombijn, Victor T. King, Anthropology and development in South-East Asia; Theory and practice. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1999, xx + 308 pp. - Bernhard Dahm, Cive J. Christie, A modern history of South-East Asia; Decolonization, nationalism and seperatism. London: Tauris, 1996, x + 286 pp. - J. van Goor, Leonard Blussé, Pilgrims to the past; Private conversations with historians of European expansion. Leiden: Research School CNWS, 1996, 339 pp., Frans-Paul van der Putten, Hans Vogel (eds.) - David Henley, Robert W. Hefner, Market cultures; Society and morality in the new Asian capitalisms. Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press, 1998, viii + 328 pp. - David Henley, James F. Warren, The Sulu zone; The world capitalist economy and the historical imagination. Amsterdam: VU University Press for the Centre for Asian Studies, Amsterdam (CASA), 1998, 71 pp. [Comparative Asian Studies 20.] - Huub de Jonge, Laurence Husson, La migration maduraise vers l’Est de Java; ‘Manger le vent ou gratter la terre’? Paris: L’Harmattan/Association Archipel, 1995, 414 pp. [Cahier d’Archipel 26.] - Nico Kaptein, Mark R. Woodward, Toward a new paradigm; Recent developments in Indonesian Islamic thought. Tempe: Arizona State University, Program for Southeast Asian Studies, 1996, x + 380 pp. - Catharina van Klinken, Gunter Senft, Referring to space; Studies in Austronesian and Papuan languages. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997, xi + 324 pp. - W. Mahdi, J.G. de Casparis, Sanskrit loan-words in Indonesian; An annotated check-list of words from Sanskrit in Indonesian and Traditional Malay. Jakarta: Badan Penyelenggara Seri NUSA, Universitas Katolik Indonesia Atma Jaya, 1997, viii + 59 pp. [NUSA Linguistic Studies of Indonesian and Other Languages in Indonesia 41.] - Henk Maier, David Smyth, The canon in Southeast Asian literatures; Literatures of Burma, Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, the Philippines, Thailand and Vietnam. Richmond: Curzon, 2000, x + 273 pp. - Toon van Meijl, Robert J. Foster, Social reproduction and history in Melanesia; Mortuary ritual, gift exchange, and custom in the Tanga islands. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995, xxii + 288 pp. - J.A. de Moor, Douglas Kammen, A tour of duty; Changing patterns of military politics in Indonesia in the 1990’s. Ithaca, New York: Southeast Asia Program, Cornell University, 1999, 98 pp., Siddharth Chandra (eds.) - Joke van Reenen, Audrey Kahin, Rebellion to integration; West Sumatra and the Indonesian polity, 1926-1998. Amsterdam University Press, 1999, 368 pp. - Heather Sutherland, Craig J. Reynolds, Southeast Asian Studies: Reorientations. Ithaca: Southeast Asia Program, Cornell University, 1998, 70 pp. [The Frank H. Golay Memorial Lectures 2 and 3.], Ruth McVey (eds.) - Nicholas Tarling, Patrick Tuck, The French wolf and the Siamese lamb; The French threat to Siamese independence, 1858-1907. Bangkok: White Lotus, 1995, xviii + 434 pp. [Studies in Southeast Asian History 1.] - B.J. Terwiel, Andreas Sturm, Die Handels- und Agrarpolitik Thailands von 1767 bis 1932. Passau: Universität Passau, Lehrstuhl für Südostasienkunde, 1997, vii + 181 pp. [Passauer Beiträge zur Südostasienkunde 2.] - René S. Wassing, Koos van Brakel, A passion for Indonesian art; The Georg Tillmann collection at the Tropenmuseum Amsterdam. Amsterdam. Royal Tropical Institute/Tropenmuseum, 1996, 128 pp., David van Duuren, Itie van Hout (eds.) - Edwin Wieringa, J. de Bruin, Een Leidse vriendschap; De briefwisseling tussen Herman Bavinck en Christiaan Snouck Hurgronje, 1875-1921. Baarn: Ten Have, 1999, 192 pp. [Passage 11.], G. Harinck (eds.)

Foram efetuadas diversas simulações numéricas para o escoamento do tipo jato livre axissimétrico, incompressível e turbulento, no intuito de avaliar numericamente as afirmações de Taulbee (1989), George (1989) e George e Davidson (2004) as quais convergem na afirmação de que a modelagem single-point RANS (Reynolds-averaged Navier–Stokes) não possui a física necessária para contabilizar a dependência assintótica da origem do jato no seu desenvolvimento. O objetivo principal deste trabalho limita-se a mostrar alguns resultados, sem tentar solucionar tal afirmação. Adicionalmente é apresentada uma breve análise da influência das condições de origem do jato sobre a região completamente desenvolvida do escoamento. Os resultados das simulações corroboram a afirmação dos referidos autores e também indicam que não há um conjunto geral de constantes dos modelos de turbulência que se apresente universalmente válido. Foi verificado que a região completamente desenvolvida mostra-se dependente não apenas da quantidade de momento na saída do bocal, conseqüentemente, os jatos atingem diferentes estados auto-similares em função dos detalhes de sua origem, contrapondo a hipótese clássica da auto-similaridade.

More than two decades ago the first strong experimental results appeared suggesting that turbulent flows might not be asymptotically independent of their initial (or upstream) conditions (Wygnanski et al., 1986, “On the Large-Scale Structures in Two-Dimensional Smalldeficit, Turbulent Wakes,” J. Fluid Mech., 168, pp. 31–71). And shortly thereafter the first theoretical explanations were offered as to why we came to believe something about turbulence that might not be true (George, 1989, “The Self-Preservation of Turbulent Flows and its Relation to Initial Conditions and Coherent Structures,” Advances in Turbulence, W. George and R. Arndt, eds., Hemisphere, New York, pp. 1–41). These were contrary to popular belief. It was recognized immediately that if turbulence was indeed asymptotically independent of its initial conditions, it meant that there could be no universal single point model for turbulence (George, 1989, “The Self-Preservation of Turbulent Flows and its Relation to Initial Conditions and Coherent Structures,” Advances in Turbulence, W. George and R. Arndt, eds., Hemisphere, New York, pp. 1–41; Taulbee, 1989, “Reynolds Stress Models Applied to Turbulent Jets,” Advances in Turbulence, W. George and R. Arndt, eds., Hemisphere, New York, pp. 29–73) certainly consistent with experience, but even so not easy to accept for the turbulence community. Even now the ideas of asymptotic independence still dominate most texts and teaching of turbulence. This paper reviews the substantial additional evidence - experimental, numerical and theoretical - for the asymptotic effect of initial and upstream conditions that has accumulated over the past 25 years. Also reviewed is evidence that the Kolmogorov theory for small scale turbulence is not as general as previously believed. Emphasis has been placed on the canonical turbulent flows (especially wakes, jets, and homogeneous decaying turbulence), which have been the traditional building blocks for our understanding. Some of the important outstanding issues are discussed; and implications for the future of turbulence modeling and research, especially LES and turbulence control, are also considered.

The lectures delivered at the Royal Academy of Arts by Joshua Reynolds, its first president, and William Hunter, F. R. S., its first professor of anatomy, belonged to the same basic enterprise. Through the educational programme of the Academy, they were aspiring to raise the intellectual standards, levels of aesthetic achievement and institutional status of the visual arts in England. Observers of English achievements in other fields, most notably literature and the sciences, could hardly fail to notice the absence of painters who might be regarded as equal in stature to a Milton or a Newton. The Italian popularizer of Newton, Count Francesco Algarotti, noted in 1764 that ‘the English nation claims the superiority ... in the world of science’, whereas ‘Painting has only recently engaged the attention of the English so far as to inspire them with a design of contending with the Italians’. In the dedication of his Discourses to King George III, Reynolds acknowledged that ‘by your illustrious predecessors were established marts for manufacturers, and colleges for science; but for the arts of elegance, those arts by which manufactures are embellished, and science is refined, to found an Academy was reserved for your Majesty’.

Open educational resources (OER) are “high-quality, openly licensed, online educational materials that offer an extraordinary opportunity for people everywhere to share, use, and reuse knowledge” (William and Flora Hewlett Foundation, n.d.). These materials range from full courses and course materials (including textbooks) to streaming videos and software.Innovative educators recognize that OER offer an exciting alternative to restrictive (and expensive) textbooks by allowing them the freedom to select quality content that better fits their pedagogy. Students benefit from more engaged learning, lower costs, and the ability to revise and remix these materials as assigned by their instructor. The virtual sky is the limit!The 4-VA Collaborative at George Mason University recently announced a competitive grants pilot program (February, 2016) to incentivize Mason instructional faculty to identify existing, or create new, open digital content and incorporate it into their course(s). The proposed interactive presentation session will build on the Mason 4-VA pilot program. A team of four faculty members from Mason and J. Sargeant Reynolds Community College will lead the session. Discussion topics to be covered include defining OER, describing Creative Commons licenses, strategies for integrating OER in courses, and identifying quality materials. Participants should bring a laptop as they will be divided into small groups during the session to familiarize themselves with websites that aggregate OER content applicable to their discipline(s).By the end of this session, participants will be able to:Define OER,Understand Creative Commons licenses,Outline the first steps in planning an OER project, andIdentify some online sources for discipline-specific OER.We anticipate that OER collaborations will emerge from this session. ReferencesMason 4-VA Collaborative. (February, 2016). Course Redesign: Using Open Educational Resources. Retrieved from http://4va.gmu.edu/call-for-proposals William and Flora Hewlett Foundation. (n.d.) Open Educational Resources. Retrieved from http://www.hewlett.org/programs/education/open-educational-resources

Book reviews: Lawler, John M., and Helen Aristar Dry (eds), Using Computers in Linguistics: A Practical Guide (reviewed by Matthew Zimmerman); Oakes, Michael P., Statistics for Corpus Linguistics (reviewed by Matthew Zimmerman); Dilley, Roy (ed.), The Problem of Context (reviewed by David Banks); Person Jr, Raymond F., Structure and Meaning in Conversation and Literature (reviewed by Dan McIntyre); Duff, David (ed.), Modern Genre Theory (reviewed by Mike Reynolds); Sowinski, Bernhard, Stilistik: Stiltheorien und Stilanalysen (reviewed by Jean Jacques Weber); Melinié, Georges, La Stylistique (reviewed by Jean Jacques Weber); Lakoff, Robin Tolmach, The Language War (reviewed by Jean Jacques Weber); Cruse, D. Alan, Meaning in Language: An Introduction to Semantics and Pragmatics (reviewed by Gabriela Missikova); Mey, Jacob L., When Voices Clash: A Study in Literary Pragmatics (reviewed by Roger D. Sell); Swan, Mary and Elaine M. Traherne (eds), Rewriting Old English in the Twelfth Century (reviewed by James Milton)

Abstract Objective. Analyze and integrate studies that inquire on the benefits of nursing educational interventions to manage post-surgical pain.Methods. A systematic search was conducted in the databases of Scopus, Medline (Pubmed), Web of Science, The Cochrane Library, and CINAHL of systematic reviews, randomized clinical trials, and quasiexperimental studies published in English and Spanish until 2018 that analyzed the effectiveness of educational interventions in managing post-surgical pain in adult patients.Results. Twelve studies complied inclusion criteria, of which nine reported less pain in the group receiving the educational intervention. These interventions also helped to diminish the level of anxiety and improved functionality to perform activities of daily life. The level of quality of the studies was medium.Conclusion. Although the review showed that nursing educational interventions could influence on the relief of post-surgical pain, more rigorous studies are necessary, with bigger sample sizes and higher methodological quality, which help to establish the real effectiveness in managing post-surgical patients with pain.Descriptors: effectiveness; nursing research; pain, postoperative; pain management; patient education as topic; review.How to cite this article: Reaza-Alarcón A, RodríguezMartín B. Effectiveness of nursing educational interventions in managing post-surgical pain. Systematic review. Invest. Educ. Enferm. 2019; 37(2):e10.ReferencesNational Institute of Health. Pain. Hope through research [Internet]. NIH; 2018 [cited 10 May 2018]. Available fron: https://www.ninds.nih.gov/Disorders/Patient-Caregiver-Education/Hope-Through-Research/Pain-Hope-Through-Research Subramanian P, Ramasamy S, Ng KH, Chinna K, Rosli R. Pain experience and satisfaction with postoperative pain control among surgical patients. Int. J. Nurs. Pract. 2016; 22(3):232-8. Brennan F, Carr DB, Cousins M. Pain management: a fundamental human right. Anesth. Anal. 2007; 105(1):205-21. Chou R, Gordon DB, de Leon-Casasola OA, Rosenberg JM, Bickler S, Brennan T, et al. Management of postoperative pain: A clinical practice guideline from the American Pain Society, the American Society of Regional Anesthesia and Pain Medicine, and the American Society of Anesthesiologists’ Committee on Regional Anesthesia, Executive Committee, and Administrative Council. J. Pain. 2016; 17(2):131-57. Sommer M, de Rijke JM, van Kleer M, Kessels AGH, Peters ML, Geurts JWJM, et al. The prevalence of postoperative pain in a sample of 1490 surgical inpatients. Eur. J. Anaesthesiol. 2008; 25:267-74. McNeill, JA, Sherwood GD, Starck PL, Nieto B. Pain management outcomes for hospitalized Hispanic patients. Pain Manag. Nurs. 2001; 2(1):25-36. O’Donnell KF. Preoperative pain management education: a quality Improvement project. J. Perianesth. Nurs. 2015; 30:221-7. Oshodi TO. The impact of preoperative education on postoperative pain. Part 2. Br. J. Nurs. 2007; 16(13):790-7. Urrútia G, Bonfill X. The PRISMA statement: a step in the improvement of the publications of the Revista Española de Salud Pública. Rev. Esp. Salud Pública 2013; 87(2):99-102. Shea BJ, Grimshaw JM, Wells GA, Boers M, Andersson N, Hamel C, et al. Development of AMSTAR: a measurement tool to assess the methodological quality of systematic reviews. BMC Med. Res. Methodol. 2007; 7:10. Aromataris E, Fernandez R, Godfrey C, Holly C, Kahlil H, Tungpunkom P. Summarizing systematic reviews: methodological development, conduct and reporting of an Umbrella review approach. Int. J. Evid. Based Health 2015; 13:132-40. Clark HD, Wells GA, Huët C, McAlister FA, Salmi LR, Fergusson D, et al. Assessing the quality of randomized trials: reliability of the Jadad scale. Control Clin. Trials. 1999; 20:448-52. Tufanaru C, Munn Z, Aromataris E, Campbell J, Hopp L. Chapter 3: Systematic reviews of effectiveness. In: Aromataris E, Munn Z, editors. Joanna Briggs Institute Reviewer's Manual. Adelaida: The Joanna Briggs Institute; 2017. Hong S-J, Lee E. Effect of evidence-based postoperative pain guidelines via web for patients undergoing abdominal surgery in South Korea. Asian Nurs. Res. 2014; 8:135-42. Lee C-H, Liu J-T, Lin S-C, Hsu T-Y, Lin C-Y, Lin L-Y. Effects of educational intervention on state anxiety and pain in people undergoing spinal surgery: A randomized controlled trial. Pain Manag. Nurs. 2018; 19:163-71. Martorella G, Côté J, Racine M, Choinière M. Web-based nursing intervention for self-management of pain after cardiac surgery: Pilot randomized controlled trial. J. Med. Internet Res. 2012; 14(6):e177. Guo P, East L, Arthur A. A preoperative education intervention to reduce anxiety and improve recovery among Chinese cardiac patients: A randomized controlled trial. Int. J. Nurs. Stud. 2012; 49:129-37. Kesänen J, Leino-Kilpi H, Lund T, Montin L, Puukka P, Valkeapää K. Increased preoperative knowledge reduces surgery-related anxiety: a randomised clinical trial in 100 spinal stenosis patients. Eur. Spine J. 2017; 26:2520-8. Bjørnnes AK, Parry M, Lie I, Fagerland MW, Watt-Watson J, Rustøen T, et al. The impact of an educational pain management booklet intervention on postoperative pain control after cardiac surgery. Eur. J. Cardiovasc. Nurs. 2017; 16:18-27. Ramesh C, Nayak BS, Pai VB, Patil NT, George A, George LS, et al. Effect of preoperative education on postoperative outcomes among patients undergoing cardiac surgery: A systematic review and meta-analysis. J. Perianesth. Nurs. 2017; 32:518-29. Wong Eliza Mi‐Ling, Chan Sally Wai‐Chi, Chair Sek‐Ying. Effectiveness of an educational intervention on levels of pain, anxiety and self‐efficacy for patients with musculoskeletal trauma. J. Adv. Nurs. 2010; 66:1120-31. Font Calafell A, Prat Borras I, Arnau Bartes A, Jesús Torra Feixas M, Baeza Ransanz T. Nursing educational intervention for the management of postoperative pain in ambulatory surgery. Enferm. Clin. 2011; 21:248-55. Reynolds MAH. Postoperative pain management discharge teaching in a rural population. Pain Manag. Nurs. 2009; 10:76-84. van Dijk JFM, van Wijck AJM, Kappen TH, Peelen LM, Kalkman CJ, Schuurmans MJ. The effect of a preoperative educational film on patients’ postoperative pain in relation to their request for opioids. Pain Manag. Nurs. 2015; 16:137-45. Chen S-R, Chen C-S, Lin P-C. The effect of educational intervention on the pain and rehabilitation performance of patients who undergo a total knee replacement. J. Clin. Nurs. 2014; 23:279-87.

Abstract Presenting Author Email: jelliott@tcd.ie Research question Does intensive postoperative surveillance after planned curative resection for oesophageal cancer lead to increased detection of oligometastatic disease, facilitating increased use of tumor-directed therapy, hence improving overall survival? Background and aim Emerging data demonstrate long-term survival after salvage interventions for local or oligometastatic recurrence following planned curative resection for oesophageal cancer, providing rationale for postoperative surveillance. While meta-analyses confirm the survival benefit of chemotherapy (HR0.81, 0.71-0.92), and HER-2 directed therapy (HR0.75, 0.68-0.84) for patients with recurrent or metastatic oesophageal cancer, the effect of surveillance on oncologic outcome and health-related quality-of-life (HRQL) is unknown. There is currently no international consensus regarding the utility of surveillance following curative-intent treatment for oesophageal cancer, with divergent guidelines from ESMO, AUGIS and NCCN. A pilot study including 27 European centres (ENSURE-1) demonstrated wide variation in practice, with tumour markers, CT and PET-CT utilised in 4 (14.8%), 10 (37.0%) and 3 (11.1%), respectively. This multicenter collaborative project aims to determine the independent impact of intensive surveillance on recurrence patterns, oncologic outcome, and HRQL in survivorship, providing the first adequately powered study to address this critical research question. Patients A retrospective observational study of patients undergoing treatment with curative intent for oesophageal cancer at participating Centers from June 2009 to June 2015. Inclusion criteria 1. Age 18 years and above 2. Underwent surgery with curative intent for cTxNxM0 esophageal or esophagogastric junction (Siewert type I, II and III) cancer 3. Salvage surgery after failure of primary endoscopic or oncologic treatment will be included Exclusion criteria 1. Endoscopic therapy or definitive oncological treatment as sole therapy for esophageal cancer 2. Missing follow-up data Comparator Outcomes will be compared among patients managed with intensive surveillance (IS) compared with standard surveillance. IS will be defined as the routine use of CT/PET-CT for surveillance, at least annually, for at least the first three postoperative years. Each participating centre will be classified as undertaking IS or standard surveillance (SS) according to data submitted in the pilot study (ENSURE-1). Outcomes The primary endpoint of this study is: • Overall survival The secondary endpoints of this study are: • Disease-specific survival • Observed disease-free survival • HRQL o Prespecified EORTC QLQ-C30, QLQ-OG25 items • Recurrence patterns and treatment o Site of disease at initial recurrence o Oligometastatic disease at initial recurrence o Anastomotic disease at initial recurrence o Palliative chemotherapy, chemoradiation and radiation use o Treatment for oligometastatic and anastomotic recurrence (surgery, radiation, chemotherapy only) Study design Power calculation and sample size Power calculations are based on Sisic et al. demonstrating a 5% increase in 5-year overall survival with standardized follow-up in a propensity score matched analysis. Based on an initial feasibility survey of 18 Centers, current estimated number of cases per year for enrolled Centers is 885, therefore it is anticipated that the 5-year study period should capture approximately 4425 patients, of whom 31% undergo high intensity surveillance with cross-sectional imaging, with a minimum postoperative follow-up of 3 years. Using a log-rank analysis to detect a 5% difference in overall survival with sigma of 0.05, with 1371 of 4425 patients in the IS group, the study is powered to 90.4%, while accounting for a potential 20% exclusion rate, the study is powered to 83.1% with current enrolled Centers. Data collection and study definitions Where possible, data will be collected from prospectively maintained databases at participating Centers. Collected data will be entered into a standardized data collection spreadsheet “ENSURE Study - Datasheet” (attached). Variables will be coded at source by Co-Investigators according to standardized coding. Briefly, collected data will include: • Demographics • Co-morbidities and performance status • Histologic type • Tumor location • Clinical stage and grade • Pathologic stage, grade, treatment response and margins • Neoadjuvant therapy details • Operative details • Overall postoperative morbidity • Recurrence and associated treatment • Survival data • HRQOL o ENSURE database will be linked to include relevant HRQL data from a previous study (LASER) Registration The study has been registered on ClinicalTrials.gov (NCT03461341). Statistical Approach Data will be analyzed using SPSS® (v.23.0) software (SPSS, Chicago, IL, USA). For the multivariable analyses, all clinically relevant variables will be inputted into multivariable linear, logistic or Cox proportional hazards regression models. Team and infrastructure An international multidisciplinary collaborative team has been assembled via the Young Investigator Group of the European Society for Diseases of the Esophagus for the conduct of this study, with 27 centres signed up to participate in the pilot study to date. The study will be initiated from St. James's Hospital, Dublin, Ireland; the Karolinska Institute, Stockholm, Sweden; and Imperial College London, London, England. Steering committee: Jessie Elliott (Dublin), Fredrik Klevebro (Stockholm), Sheraz Markar (London), Lucas Goense (Utrecht), Melody Ni (London – statistician), Pernilla Lagergran (Stockholm – HRQL researcher) Supervisory committee: John V Reynolds (Dublin), Magnus Nilsson (Stockholm), George Hanna (London), Giovanni Zaninotto (Padova). Infrastructure: A dedicated biostatistician (Dr Melody Ni, Imperial College London) is a collaborator on the current project and will provide expertise with respect to design and data analysis. A researcher with expertise in HRQL assessment (Professor Pernilla Lagergren, Karolinska Institute) is also a named collaborator on the present project.

The following article is in response to a research project that took the form of a road trip from Perth to Lombadina re-enacting the journey undertaken by the characters in the play Bran Nue Dae by playwright Jimmy Chi and Broome band Kuckles. This project was facilitated by the assistance of a Creative and Research Publication Grant from the Faculty of Communications and Creative Industries, Edith Cowan University, Western Australia. The project was carried out by researchers Kara Jacob and Margaret Hair. One thing is plainly clear. Aboriginal art expresses the possibility of human intimacy with landscapes. This is the key to its power: it makes available a rich tradition of human ethics and relationships with place and other species to a worldwide audience. For the settler Australian audience, caught ambiguously between old and new lands, their appreciation of this art embodies at least a striving for the kind of citizenship that republicans wanted: to belong to this place rather than to another (Marcia Langton in Watson 191). Marcia Langton is talking here about painting. My question is whether this “kind of citizenship” can also be accessed through appreciation of indigenous theatre, and specifically through the play Bran Nue Dae, by playwright Jimmy Chi and Broome band Kuckles, a play closely linked to the Western Australian landscape through its appropriation of the road trip genre. The physical journey taken by the characters metaphorically takes them also through the contact history of black and white Australians in Western Australia. Significantly, the non-indigenous characters experience the redemptive power of “human intimacy with landscapes” through travelling to the traditional country of their road trip companions. The road trip genre typically places its characters on a quest for knowledge. American poet Gary Snyder says that the two sources of human knowledge are symbols and sense-impressions (vii). Bran Nue Dae abounds with symbols, from the priest’s cassock and mitre to Roebourne prison; however, the sense impressions, which are so strong in the performance of the play, are missing from the written text, apart from ironic comments on the weather. In my efforts to understand Bran Nue Dae, I undertook the road trip from Perth to the Kimberley myself in order to discover those missing sense-impressions, as they form part of the “back story” of the play. In the play there is a void between the time the characters leave Perth and reach first Roebourne, where they are locked up, and then Roebuck Plains, not far from Broome, yet in the “real world” they would have travelled more than two thousand kilometres. What would they have seen and experienced on this journey? I took note of Krim Benterrak, Paddy Roe and Stephen Muecke’s Reading the Country, a cross-cultural and cross-textual study on Roebuck Plains, near Broome. Muecke talks about “stories being contingent upon place … Aboriginal storytellers have a similar policy. If one is not prepared to take the trouble to go to the place, then its story can only be given as a short version” (72). In preparing for the trip, I collected tourist brochures and maps. The use of maps, seemingly essential on any road trip as guides to “having a look at” country (Muecke ibid.), was instantly problematic in itself, in that maps represent country as colonised space. In Saltwater People, Nonie Sharp discusses the “distinction between mapping and personal journeying”: Maps and mapping describe space in a way that depersonalises it. Mapping removes the footprints of named creatures – animal, human, ancestral – who belong to this place or that place. A map can be anywhere. ‘Itineraries’, however, are actions and movements within a named and footprinted land (Sharp 199-200). The country journeyed through in Bran Nue Dae, which privileges indigenous experience, could be designated as the potentially dangerous liminal space between the “map” and the “itinerary”. This “space between” resonates with untold stories, with invisibilities. One of the most telling discoveries on the research trip was the thoroughness with which indigenous people have been made to disappear from the “mapped” zones through various colonial policies. It was very evident that indigenous people are still relegated to the fringes of town, as in Onslow and Port Hedland, in housing situations closely resembling the old missions and reserves. Although my travelling companion and I made an effort in every place we visited to pay our respects by at least finding out the language group of the traditional owners, it became clear that a major challenge in travelling through post-colonial space is in avoiding becoming complicit in the disappearance of indigenous people. We wanted our focus to be “on the people whose bodies, territories, beliefs and values have been travelled though” (Tuhiwai Smith 78) but our experience was that finding even written guides into the “footprinted land” is not easy when few tourist pamphlets acknowledge the traditional owners of the country. Even when “local Aboriginal” words are quoted, as in the CALM brochure for Nambung National Park (i.e., the Pinnacles), the actual language or language group is not mentioned. In many interpretive brochures and facilities, traditional owners are represented as absent, as victims or as prisoners. The fate of the “original inhabitants of the Greenough Flats”, the Yabbaroo people, is alluded to in the Greenough River Nature Walk Trail Guide, under the title, “A short history of Greenough River from the Rivermouth to Westbank Road”: The Gregory brothers, exploring for pastoral land in 1848, peacefully met with a large group of Aborigines camped beside a freshwater spring in a dense Melaleuca thicket. They named the spring Bootenal, from the Nyungar word Boolungal, meaning pelican. Gregory’s glowing reports of good grazing prompted pastoralists to move their flocks to Greenough, and by 1852 William Criddle was watering cattle for the Cattle Company at the Bootenal Spring. The Aborigines soon resented this intrusion and in 1854, large numbers with many from surrounding tribes, gathered in the relative safety of the Bootenal thicket. Making forays at night, they killed cattle and sheep and attacked homesteads. The pastoralists retaliated by forming a posse at Glengarry under the command of the Resident Magistrate. On the night of the 4th/5th July they rode to Bootenal and drove the Aborigines from the thicket. No arrests were made and no official report given of casualties. Aboriginal resistance in the area was finished. The fact that the extract actually describes a massacre while purporting to be a “history of Greenough River” subverts the notion that the land can ever really be “depersonalised”. At the very heart of the difference lie different ways of being human: in Aboriginal classical tradition the person dwells within a personified landscape which is alive, named, inscribed by spiritual and human agents. It is a ‘Thou’ not an ‘It’, and I and Thou belong together (Sharp 199-200). Peter Read’s book Belonging: Australians, Place and Aboriginal Ownership contains a section titled “The Past Embedded in the Landscape” in which Read discusses whether the land holds the memory of events enacted upon it, so forming a tangible link between the dispossessed and the possessors. While discussing Judith Wright’s poem Bora Ring, Read states: “The unlaid violence of dispossession lingers at the sites of evil or old magic”, bringing to mind Wright’s notion of Australia as “a haunted country” (14). It is not surprising that the “unlaid violence of dispossession lingers” at the sites of old prisons and lock-ups, since it is built into the very architecture. The visitor pamphlet states that the 1890s design by George Temple Poole of the third Roebourne gaol, further up the great Northern Highway from Greenough and beautifully constructed from stone, “represents a way in which the state ideology of control of a remote and potentially dangerous population could be expressed in buildings”. The current Roebourne prison, still holding a majority of Aboriginal inmates, does away with any pretence of architectural elegance but expresses the same state ideology with its fence topped with razor wire. Without a guide like Bran Nue Dae’s Uncle Tadpole to keep us “off the track”, non-indigenous visitors to these old gaols, now largely museums, may be quickly led by the interpretation into the “mapped zone” – the narrative of imperialist expansion. However, we can follow Paul Carter’s injunction to “deepen grooves” and start with John Pat’s story at the Roebourne police lock-up, or the story of any indigenous inmate of the present Roebuck prison, spiralling back a century to the first Roebuck prison in settler John Withnell’s woolshed (Weightman 4). Then we gain a sense of the contact experience of the local indigenous peoples. John Withnell and his wife Emma are represented as particularly resourceful by the interpretation at the old Roebourne gaol (now Roebourne Visitors Centre and Museum). The museum has a replica of a whalebone armchair that John Withnell built for his wife with vertebrae as the seat and other bones as the back and armrests. The family also invented the canvas waterbag. The interpretation fails to mention that the same John Withnell beat an Aboriginal woman named Talarong so severely for refusing to care for sheep at Withnell’s Hillside Station that “she retreated into the bush and died of her injuries two days later”. No charges were brought against Withnell because, according to the Acting Government Resident, of the “great provocation” by Talarong in the incident (Hunt 99-100). Such omissions and silences in the official record force indigenous people into a parallel “invisible country” and leave us stranded on the highways of the “mapped zone”, bereft of our rights and responsibilities to connect either to the country or to its traditional owners. Roebourne, and its coastal port Cossack, stand on the hauntingly beautiful country of the Ngarluma and seaside Yapurarra peoples. Settlers first arrived in the 1860s and Aboriginal people began to be officially imprisoned soon after, primarily as a result of their resistance to being “blackbirded” and exploited as labour for the pearling and pastoral industries. Prisoners were chained by the neck, day and night, and forced to build roads and tramlines, ostensibly a “civilising” practice. As the history pamphlet for The Old Roebourne Gaol reads: “It was widely believed that the Roebourne Gaol was where the ‘benefit’ of white civilisation could be shown to the ‘savage’ Aboriginal” (Weightman 2). The “back story” I discovered on this research trip was one of disappearance – indigenous people being made to disappear from their countries, from non-indigenous view and from the written record. The symbols I surprisingly most engaged with and which most affected me were the gaols and prisons which the imperialists used as tools of their trade in disappearance. The sense impressions I experienced – extreme beauty, isolation, heat and sandflies – reinforced the complexity of Western Australian contact history. I began to see the central achievement of Bran Nue Dae as being the return of indigenous people to country and to story. This return, so beautifully realised in when the characters finally reach Lombadina and a state of acceptance, is critical to healing the country and to the attainment of an equitable “kind of citizenship” that denotes belonging for all. References Aboriginal Tourism Australia. Welcome to Country: Respecting Indigenous Culture for Travellers in Australia. 2004. Benterrak, Krim, Stephen Muecke, and Paddy Roe. Reading the Country. Perth: Fremantle Arts Centre Press, 1984. Carter, Paul. The Lie of the Land. London: Faber & Faber, 1996. Dalton, Peter. “Broome: A Multiracial Community. A Study of Social and Cultural Relationships in a Town in the West Kimberleys, Western Australia”. Thesis for Master of Arts in Anthropology. Perth: University of Western Australia, 1964. Hunt, Susan Jane. Spinifex and Hessian: Women’s Lives in North-Western Australia 1860–1900. Nedlands, WA: U of Western Australia P, 1986. Read, Peter. Belonging: Australians, Place and Aboriginal Ownership. UK: Cambridge UP, 2000. Reynolds, Henry. North of Capricorn: The Untold History of Australia’s North. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 2003. Reynolds, Henry. Why Weren’t We Told? Ringwood, Victoria: Penguin Books Australia, 1999. Sharp, Nonie. Saltwater People: The Waves of Memory. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 2002. Shire of Greenough. Greenough River Nature Walk Trail Guide. 2005. Tuhiwai Smith, Linda. Decolonizing Methodologies. Dunedin, New Zealand: U of Otago P, 1999. Watson, Christine. Piercing the Ground. Perth: Fremantle Arts Centre P, 2003. Weightman, Llyrus. The Old Roebourne Gaol: A History. Pilbara Classies & Printing Service. Wright, Judith. The Cry for the Dead. 1981. 277-80. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Hair, Margaret. "Invisible Country." M/C Journal 8.6 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0512/09-hair.php>. APA Style Hair, M. (Dec. 2005) "Invisible Country," M/C Journal, 8(6). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0512/09-hair.php>.

Alfred Hermida recently posited ‘ambient journalism’ as a new framework for para- and professional journalists, who use social networks like Twitter for story sources, and as a news delivery platform. Beginning with this framework, this article explores the following questions: How does Hermida define ‘ambient journalism’ and what is its significance? Are there alternative definitions? What lessons do current platforms provide for the design of future, real-time platforms that ‘ambient journalists’ might use? What lessons does the work of Brian Eno provide–the musician and producer who coined the term ‘ambient music’ over three decades ago? My aim here is to formulate an alternative definition of ambient journalism that emphasises craft, skills acquisition, and the mental models of professional journalists, which are the foundations more generally for journalism practices. Rather than Hermida’s participatory media context I emphasise ‘institutional adaptiveness’: how journalists and newsrooms in media institutions rely on craft and skills, and how emerging platforms can augment these foundations, rather than replace them. Hermida’s Ambient Journalism and the Role of Journalists Hermida describes ambient journalism as: “broad, asynchronous, lightweight and always-on communication systems [that] are creating new kinds of interactions around the news, and are enabling citizens to maintain a mental model of news and events around them” (Hermida 2). His ideas appear to have two related aspects. He conceives ambient journalism as an “awareness system” between individuals that functions as a collective intelligence or kind of ‘distributed cognition’ at a group level (Hermida 2, 4-6). Facebook, Twitter and other online social networks are examples. Hermida also suggests that such networks enable non-professionals to engage in ‘communication’ and ‘conversation’ about news and media events (Hermida 2, 7). In a helpful clarification, Hermida observes that ‘para-journalists’ are like the paralegals or non-lawyers who provide administrative support in the legal profession and, in academic debates about journalism, are more commonly known as ‘citizen journalists’. Thus, Hermida’s ambient journalism appears to be: (1) an information systems model of new platforms and networks, and (2) a normative argument that these tools empower ‘para-journalists’ to engage in journalism and real-time commentary. Hermida’s thesis is intriguing and worthy of further discussion and debate. As currently formulated however it risks sharing the blind-spots and contradictions of the academic literature that Hermida cites, which suffers from poor theory-building (Burns). A major reason is that the participatory media context on which Hermida often builds his work has different mental models and normative theories than the journalists or media institutions that are the target of critique. Ambient journalism would be a stronger and more convincing framework if these incorrect assumptions were jettisoned. Others may also potentially misunderstand what Hermida proposes, because the academic debate is often polarised between para-journalists and professional journalists, due to different views about institutions, the politics of knowledge, decision heuristics, journalist training, and normative theoretical traditions (Christians et al. 126; Cole and Harcup 166-176). In the academic debate, para-journalists or ‘citizen journalists’ may be said to have a communitarian ethic and desire more autonomous solutions to journalists who are framed as uncritical and reliant on official sources, and to media institutions who are portrayed as surveillance-like ‘monitors’ of society (Christians et al. 124-127). This is however only one of a range of possible relationships. Sole reliance on para-journalists could be a premature solution to a more complex media ecology. Journalism craft, which does not rely just on official sources, also has a range of practices that already provides the “more complex ways of understanding and reporting on the subtleties of public communication” sought (Hermida 2). Citizen- and para-journalist accounts may overlook micro-studies in how newsrooms adopt technological innovations and integrate them into newsgathering routines (Hemmingway 196). Thus, an examination of the realities of professional journalism will help to cast a better light on how ambient journalism can shape the mental models of para-journalists, and provide more rigorous analysis of news and similar events. Professional journalism has several core dimensions that para-journalists may overlook. Journalism’s foundation as an experiential craft includes guidance and norms that orient the journalist to information, and that includes practitioner ethics. This craft is experiential; the basis for journalism’s claim to “social expertise” as a discipline; and more like the original Linux and Open Source movements which evolved through creative conflict (Sennett 9, 25-27, 125-127, 249-251). There are learnable, transmissible skills to contextually evaluate, filter, select and distil the essential insights. This craft-based foundation and skills informs and structures the journalist’s cognitive witnessing of an event, either directly or via reconstructed, cultivated sources. The journalist publishes through a recognised media institution or online platform, which provides communal validation and verification. There is far more here than the academic portrayal of journalists as ‘gate-watchers’ for a ‘corporatist’ media elite. Craft and skills distinguish the professional journalist from Hermida’s para-journalist. Increasingly, media institutions hire journalists who are trained in other craft-based research methods (Burns and Saunders). Bethany McLean who ‘broke’ the Enron scandal was an investment banker; documentary filmmaker Errol Morris first interviewed serial killers for an early project; and Neil Chenoweth used ‘forensic accounting’ techniques to investigate Rupert Murdoch and Kerry Packer. Such expertise allows the journalist to filter information, and to mediate any influences in the external environment, in order to develop an individualised, ‘embodied’ perspective (Hofstadter 234; Thompson; Garfinkel and Rawls). Para-journalists and social network platforms cannot replace this expertise, which is often unique to individual journalists and their research teams. Ambient Journalism and Twitter Current academic debates about how citizen- and para-journalists may augment or even replace professional journalists can often turn into legitimation battles whether the ‘de facto’ solution is a social media network rather than a media institution. For example, Hermida discusses Twitter, a micro-blogging platform that allows users to post 140-character messages that are small, discrete information chunks, for short-term and episodic memory. Twitter enables users to monitor other users, to group other messages, and to search for terms specified by a hashtag. Twitter thus illustrates how social media platforms can make data more transparent and explicit to non-specialists like para-journalists. In fact, Twitter is suitable for five different categories of real-time information: news, pre-news, rumours, the formation of social media and subject-based networks, and “molecular search” using granular data-mining tools (Leinweber 204-205). In this model, the para-journalist acts as a navigator and “way-finder” to new information (Morville, Findability). Jaron Lanier, an early designer of ‘virtual reality’ systems, is perhaps the most vocal critic of relying on groups of non-experts and tools like Twitter, instead of individuals who have professional expertise. For Lanier, what underlies debates about citizen- and para-journalists is a philosophy of “cybernetic totalism” and “digital Maoism” which exalts the Internet collective at the expense of truly individual views. He is deeply critical of Hermida’s chosen platform, Twitter: “A design that shares Twitter’s feature of providing ambient continuous contact between people could perhaps drop Twitter’s adoration of fragments. We don’t really know, because it is an unexplored design space” [emphasis added] (Lanier 24). In part, Lanier’s objection is traceable back to an unresolved debate on human factors and design in information science. Influenced by the post-war research into cybernetics, J.C.R. Licklider proposed a cyborg-like model of “man-machine symbiosis” between computers and humans (Licklider). In turn, Licklider’s framework influenced Douglas Engelbart, who shaped the growth of human-computer interaction, and the design of computer interfaces, the mouse, and other tools (Engelbart). In taking a system-level view of platforms Hermida builds on the strength of Licklider and Engelbart’s work. Yet because he focuses on para-journalists, and does not appear to include the craft and skills-based expertise of professional journalists, it is unclear how he would answer Lanier’s fears about how reliance on groups for news and other information is superior to individual expertise and judgment. Hermida’s two case studies point to this unresolved problem. Both cases appear to show how Twitter provides quicker and better forms of news and information, thereby increasing the effectiveness of para-journalists to engage in journalism and real-time commentary. However, alternative explanations may exist that raise questions about Twitter as a new platform, and thus these cases might actually reveal circumstances in which ambient journalism may fail. Hermida alludes to how para-journalists now fulfil the earlier role of ‘first responders’ and stringers, in providing the “immediate dissemination” of non-official information about disasters and emergencies (Hermida 1-2; Haddow and Haddow 117-118). Whilst important, this is really a specific role. In fact, disaster and emergency reporting occurs within well-established practices, professional ethics, and institutional routines that may involve journalists, government officials, and professional communication experts (Moeller). Officials and emergency management planners are concerned that citizen- or para-journalism is equated with the craft and skills of professional journalism. The experience of these officials and planners in 2005’s Hurricane Katrina in the United States, and in 2009’s Black Saturday bushfires in Australia, suggests that whilst para-journalists might be ‘first responders’ in a decentralised, complex crisis, they are perceived to spread rumours and potential social unrest when people need reliable information (Haddow and Haddow 39). These terms of engagement between officials, planners and para-journalists are still to be resolved. Hermida readily acknowledges that Twitter and other social network platforms are vulnerable to rumours (Hermida 3-4; Sunstein). However, his other case study, Iran’s 2009 election crisis, further complicates the vision of ambient journalism, and always-on communication systems in particular. Hermida discusses several events during the crisis: the US State Department request to halt a server upgrade, how the Basij’s shooting of bystander Neda Soltan was captured on a mobile phone camera, the spread across social network platforms, and the high-velocity number of ‘tweets’ or messages during the first two weeks of Iran’s electoral uncertainty (Hermida 1). The US State Department was interested in how Twitter could be used for non-official sources, and to inform people who were monitoring the election events. Twitter’s perceived ‘success’ during Iran’s 2009 election now looks rather different when other factors are considered such as: the dynamics and patterns of Tehran street protests; Iran’s clerics who used Soltan’s death as propaganda; claims that Iran’s intelligence services used Twitter to track down and to kill protestors; the ‘black box’ case of what the US State Department and others actually did during the crisis; the history of neo-conservative interest in a Twitter-like platform for strategic information operations; and the Iranian diaspora’s incitement of Tehran student protests via satellite broadcasts. Iran’s 2009 election crisis has important lessons for ambient journalism: always-on communication systems may create noise and spread rumours; ‘mirror-imaging’ of mental models may occur, when other participants have very different worldviews and ‘contexts of use’ for social network platforms; and the new kinds of interaction may not lead to effective intervention in crisis events. Hermida’s combination of news and non-news fragments is the perfect environment for psychological operations and strategic information warfare (Burns and Eltham). Lessons of Current Platforms for Ambient Journalism We have discussed some unresolved problems for ambient journalism as a framework for journalists, and as mental models for news and similar events. Hermida’s goal of an “awareness system” faces a further challenge: the phenomenological limitations of human consciousness to deal with information complexity and ambiguous situations, whether by becoming ‘entangled’ in abstract information or by developing new, unexpected uses for emergent technologies (Thackara; Thompson; Hofstadter 101-102, 186; Morville, Findability, 55, 57, 158). The recursive and reflective capacities of human consciousness imposes its own epistemological frames. It’s still unclear how Licklider’s human-computer interaction will shape consciousness, but Douglas Hofstadter’s experiments with art and video-based group experiments may be suggestive. Hofstadter observes: “the interpenetration of our worlds becomes so great that our worldviews start to fuse” (266). Current research into user experience and information design provides some validation of Hofstadter’s experience, such as how Google is now the ‘default’ search engine, and how its interface design shapes the user’s subjective experience of online search (Morville, Findability; Morville, Search Patterns). Several models of Hermida’s awareness system already exist that build on Hofstadter’s insight. Within the information systems field, on-going research into artificial intelligence–‘expert systems’ that can model expertise as algorithms and decision rules, genetic algorithms, and evolutionary computation–has attempted to achieve Hermida’s goal. What these systems share are mental models of cognition, learning and adaptiveness to new information, often with forecasting and prediction capabilities. Such systems work in journalism areas such as finance and sports that involve analytics, data-mining and statistics, and in related fields such as health informatics where there are clear, explicit guidelines on information and international standards. After a mid-1980s investment bubble (Leinweber 183-184) these systems now underpin the technology platforms of global finance and news intermediaries. Bloomberg LP’s ubiquitous dual-screen computers, proprietary network and data analytics (www.bloomberg.com), and its competitors such as Thomson Reuters (www.thomsonreuters.com and www.reuters.com), illustrate how financial analysts and traders rely on an “awareness system” to navigate global stock-markets (Clifford and Creswell). For example, a Bloomberg subscriber can access real-time analytics from exchanges, markets, and from data vendors such as Dow Jones, NYSE Euronext and Thomson Reuters. They can use portfolio management tools to evaluate market information, to make allocation and trading decisions, to monitor ‘breaking’ news, and to integrate this information. Twitter is perhaps the para-journalist equivalent to how professional journalists and finance analysts rely on Bloomberg’s platform for real-time market and business information. Already, hedge funds like PhaseCapital are data-mining Twitter’s ‘tweets’ or messages for rumours, shifts in stock-market sentiment, and to analyse potential trading patterns (Pritchett and Palmer). The US-based Securities and Exchange Commission, and researchers like David Gelernter and Paul Tetlock, have also shown the benefits of applied data-mining for regulatory market supervision, in particular to uncover analysts who provide ‘whisper numbers’ to online message boards, and who have access to material, non-public information (Leinweber 60, 136, 144-145, 208, 219, 241-246). Hermida’s framework might be developed further for such regulatory supervision. Hermida’s awareness system may also benefit from the algorithms found in high-frequency trading (HFT) systems that Citadel Group, Goldman Sachs, Renaissance Technologies, and other quantitative financial institutions use. Rather than human traders, HFT uses co-located servers and complex algorithms, to make high-volume trades on stock-markets that take advantage of microsecond changes in prices (Duhigg). HFT capabilities are shrouded in secrecy, and became the focus of regulatory attention after several high-profile investigations of traders alleged to have stolen the software code (Bray and Bunge). One public example is Streambase (www.streambase.com), a ‘complex event processing’ (CEP) platform that can be used in HFT, and commercialised from the Project Aurora research collaboration between Brandeis University, Brown University, and Massachusetts Institute of Technology. CEP and HFT may be the ‘killer apps’ of Hermida’s awareness system. Alternatively, they may confirm Jaron Lanier’s worst fears: your data-stream and user-generated content can be harvested by others–for their gain, and your loss! Conclusion: Brian Eno and Redefining ‘Ambient Journalism’ On the basis of the above discussion, I suggest a modified definition of Hermida’s thesis: ‘Ambient journalism’ is an emerging analytical framework for journalists, informed by cognitive, cybernetic, and information systems research. It ‘sensitises’ the individual journalist, whether professional or ‘para-professional’, to observe and to evaluate their immediate context. In doing so, ‘ambient journalism’, like journalism generally, emphasises ‘novel’ information. It can also inform the design of real-time platforms for journalistic sources and news delivery. Individual ‘ambient journalists’ can learn much from the career of musician and producer Brian Eno. His personal definition of ‘ambient’ is “an atmosphere, or a surrounding influence: a tint,” that relies on the co-evolution of the musician, creative horizons, and studio technology as a tool, just as para-journalists use Twitter as a platform (Sheppard 278; Eno 293-297). Like para-journalists, Eno claims to be a “self-educated but largely untrained” musician and yet also a craft-based producer (McFadzean; Tamm 177; 44-50). Perhaps Eno would frame the distinction between para-journalist and professional journalist as “axis thinking” (Eno 298, 302) which is needlessly polarised due to different normative theories, stances, and practices. Furthermore, I would argue that Eno’s worldview was shaped by similar influences to Licklider and Engelbart, who appear to have informed Hermida’s assumptions. These influences include the mathematician and game theorist John von Neumann and biologist Richard Dawkins (Eno 162); musicians Eric Satie, John Cage and his book Silence (Eno 19-22, 162; Sheppard 22, 36, 378-379); and the field of self-organising systems, in particular cyberneticist Stafford Beer (Eno 245; Tamm 86; Sheppard 224). Eno summed up the central lesson of this theoretical corpus during his collaborations with New York’s ‘No Wave’ scene in 1978, of “people experimenting with their lives” (Eno 253; Reynolds 146-147; Sheppard 290-295). Importantly, he developed a personal view of normative theories through practice-based research, on a range of projects, and with different creative and collaborative teams. Rather than a technological solution, Eno settled on a way to encode his craft and skills into a quasi-experimental, transmittable method—an aim of practitioner development in professional journalism. Even if only a “founding myth,” the story of Eno’s 1975 street accident with a taxi, and how he conceived ‘ambient music’ during his hospital stay, illustrates how ambient journalists might perceive something new in specific circumstances (Tamm 131; Sheppard 186-188). More tellingly, this background informed his collaboration with the late painter Peter Schmidt, to co-create the Oblique Strategies deck of aphorisms: aleatory, oracular messages that appeared dependent on chance, luck, and randomness, but that in fact were based on Eno and Schmidt’s creative philosophy and work guidelines (Tamm 77-78; Sheppard 178-179; Reynolds 170). In short, Eno was engaging with the kind of reflective practices that underpin exemplary professional journalism. He was able to encode this craft and skills into a quasi-experimental method, rather than a technological solution. Journalists and practitioners who adopt Hermida’s framework could learn much from the published accounts of Eno’s practice-based research, in the context of creative projects and collaborative teams. In particular, these detail the contexts and choices of Eno’s early ambient music recordings (Sheppard 199-200); Eno’s duels with David Bowie during ‘Sense of Doubt’ for the Heroes album (Tamm 158; Sheppard 254-255); troubled collaborations with Talking Heads and David Byrne (Reynolds 165-170; Sheppard; 338-347, 353); a curatorial, mentor role on U2’s The Unforgettable Fire (Sheppard 368-369); the ‘grand, stadium scale’ experiments of U2’s 1991-93 ZooTV tour (Sheppard 404); the Zorn-like games of Bowie’s Outside album (Eno 382-389); and the ‘generative’ artwork 77 Million Paintings (Eno 330-332; Tamm 133-135; Sheppard 278-279; Eno 435). Eno is clearly a highly flexible maker and producer. Developing such flexibility would ensure ambient journalism remains open to novelty as an analytical framework that may enhance the practitioner development and work of professional journalists and para-journalists alike.Acknowledgments The author thanks editor Luke Jaaniste, Alfred Hermida, and the two blind peer reviewers for their constructive feedback and reflective insights. References Bray, Chad, and Jacob Bunge. “Ex-Goldman Programmer Indicted for Trade Secrets Theft.” The Wall Street Journal 12 Feb. 2010. 17 March 2010 ‹http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703382904575059660427173510.html›. Burns, Alex. “Select Issues with New Media Theories of Citizen Journalism.” M/C Journal 11.1 (2008). 17 March 2010 ‹http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/view/30›.———, and Barry Saunders. “Journalists as Investigators and ‘Quality Media’ Reputation.” Record of the Communications Policy and Research Forum 2009. Eds. Franco Papandrea and Mark Armstrong. Sydney: Network Insight Institute, 281-297. 17 March 2010 ‹http://eprints.vu.edu.au/15229/1/CPRF09BurnsSaunders.pdf›.———, and Ben Eltham. “Twitter Free Iran: An Evaluation of Twitter’s Role in Public Diplomacy and Information Operations in Iran’s 2009 Election Crisis.” Record of the Communications Policy and Research Forum 2009. Eds. Franco Papandrea and Mark Armstrong. Sydney: Network Insight Institute, 298-310. 17 March 2010 ‹http://eprints.vu.edu.au/15230/1/CPRF09BurnsEltham.pdf›. Christians, Clifford G., Theodore Glasser, Denis McQuail, Kaarle Nordenstreng, and Robert A. White. Normative Theories of the Media: Journalism in Democratic Societies. Champaign, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2009. Clifford, Stephanie, and Julie Creswell. “At Bloomberg, Modest Strategy to Rule the World.” The New York Times 14 Nov. 2009. 17 March 2010 ‹http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/15/business/media/15bloom.html?ref=businessandpagewanted=all›.Cole, Peter, and Tony Harcup. Newspaper Journalism. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 2010. Duhigg, Charles. “Stock Traders Find Speed Pays, in Milliseconds.” The New York Times 23 July 2009. 17 March 2010 ‹http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/24/business/24trading.html?_r=2andref=business›. Engelbart, Douglas. “Augmenting Human Intellect: A Conceptual Framework, 1962.” Ed. Neil Spiller. Cyber Reader: Critical Writings for the Digital Era. London: Phaidon Press, 2002. 60-67. Eno, Brian. A Year with Swollen Appendices. London: Faber and Faber, 1996. Garfinkel, Harold, and Anne Warfield Rawls. Toward a Sociological Theory of Information. Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers, 2008. Hadlow, George D., and Kim S. Haddow. Disaster Communications in a Changing Media World, Butterworth-Heinemann, Burlington MA, 2009. Hemmingway, Emma. Into the Newsroom: Exploring the Digital Production of Regional Television News. Milton Park: Routledge, 2008. Hermida, Alfred. “Twittering the News: The Emergence of Ambient Journalism.” Journalism Practice 4.3 (2010): 1-12. Hofstadter, Douglas. I Am a Strange Loop. New York: Perseus Books, 2007. Lanier, Jaron. You Are Not a Gadget: A Manifesto. London: Allen Lane, 2010. Leinweber, David. Nerds on Wall Street: Math, Machines and Wired Markets. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley and Sons, 2009. Licklider, J.C.R. “Man-Machine Symbiosis, 1960.” Ed. Neil Spiller. Cyber Reader: Critical Writings for the Digital Era, London: Phaidon Press, 2002. 52-59. McFadzean, Elspeth. “What Can We Learn from Creative People? The Story of Brian Eno.” Management Decision 38.1 (2000): 51-56. Moeller, Susan. Compassion Fatigue: How the Media Sell Disease, Famine, War and Death. New York: Routledge, 1998. Morville, Peter. Ambient Findability. Sebastopol, CA: O’Reilly Press, 2005. ———. Search Patterns. Sebastopol, CA: O’Reilly Press, 2010.Pritchett, Eric, and Mark Palmer. ‘Following the Tweet Trail.’ CNBC 11 July 2009. 17 March 2010 ‹http://www.casttv.com/ext/ug0p08›. Reynolds, Simon. Rip It Up and Start Again: Postpunk 1978-1984. London: Penguin Books, 2006. Sennett, Richard. The Craftsman. London: Penguin Books, 2008. Sheppard, David. On Some Faraway Beach: The Life and Times of Brian Eno. London: Orion Books, 2008. Sunstein, Cass. On Rumours: How Falsehoods Spread, Why We Believe Them, What Can Be Done. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2009. Tamm, Eric. Brian Eno: His Music and the Vertical Colour of Sound. New York: Da Capo Press, 1995. Thackara, John. In the Bubble: Designing in a Complex World. Boston, MA: The MIT Press, 1995. Thompson, Evan. Mind in Life: Biology, Phenomenology, and the Science of Mind. Boston, MA: Belknap Press, 2007.

If thinking about home necessitates thinking about “place, space, scale, identity and power,” as Alison Blunt and Robyn Dowling (2) suggest, then thinking about home themes in popular music makes no less a conceptual demand. Song lyrics and titles most often invoke dominant readings such as intimacy, privacy, nurture, refuge, connectedness and shared belonging, all issues found within Blunt and Dowling’s analysis. The spatial imaginary to which these authors refer takes vivid shape through repertoires of songs dealing with houses and other specific sites, vast and distant homelands, communities or, less tangibly, geographical or cultural settings where particular relationships can be found, supporting Blunt and Dowling’s major claim that home is complex, multi-scalar and multi-layered. Shelley Mallett’s claim that the term home “functions as a repository for complex, inter-related and at times contradictory socio-cultural ideas about people’s relationships with one another…and with places, spaces and things” (84) is borne out heavily by popular music where, for almost every sentiment that the term home evokes, it seems an opposite sentiment is evoked elsewhere: familiarity versus alienation, acceptance versus rejection, love versus loneliness. Making use of conceptual groundwork by Blunt and Dowling and by Mallett and others, the following discussion canvasses a range of meanings that home has had for a variety of songwriters, singers and audiences over the years. Intended as merely partial and exploratory rather than exhaustive, it provides some insights into contrasts, ironies and relationships between home and gender, diaspora and loss. While it cannot cover all the themes, it gives prominence to the major recurring themes and a variety of important contexts that give rise to these home themes. Most prominent among those songs dealing with home has been a nostalgia and yearning, while issues of how women may have viewed the home within which they have often been restricted to a narrowly defined private sphere are almost entirely absent. This serves as a reminder that, while some themes can be conducive to the medium of popular music, others may be significantly less so. Songs may speak directly of experience but not necessarily of all experiences and certainly not of all experiences equally. B. Lee Cooper claims “most popular culture ventures rely upon formula-oriented settings and phrasings to attract interest, to spur mental or emotional involvement” (93). Notions of home have generally proved both formulaic and emotionally-charged. Commonly understood patterns of meaning and other hegemonic references generally operate more successfully than alternative reference points. Those notions with the strongest cultural currency can be conveyed succinctly and denote widely agreed upon meanings. Lyrics can seldom afford to be deeply analytical but generally must be concise and immediately evocative. Despite that, this discussion will point to diverse meanings carried by songs about home. Blunt and Dowling point out that “a house is not necessarily nor automatically a home” (3). The differences are strongly apparent in music, with only a few songs relating to houses compared with homes. When Malvina Reynolds wrote in 1962 of “little boxes, on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky-tacky,” she was certainly referring to houses, not homes, thus making it easier to bypass the relationships which might have vested the inhabitants with more warmth and individuality than their houses, in this song about conformity and homogeneity. The more complex though elusive concept of home, however, is more likely to feature in love songs and to emanate from diasporal songs. Certainly these two genres are not mutually exclusive. Irish songs are particularly noteworthy for adding to the array of music written by, or representational of, those who have been forced away from home by war, poverty, strife or other circumstances. They manifest identities of displacement rather than of placement, as studied by Bronwen Walter, looking back at rather than from within their spatial imaginary. Phil Eva claims that during the 19th Century Irish émigrés sang songs of exile in Manchester’s streets. Since many in England’s industrial towns had been uprooted from their homes, the songs found rapport with street audiences and entered popular culture. For example, the song Killarney, of hazy origins but thought to date back to as early as 1850, tells of Killarney’s lakes and fells, Emerald isles and winding bays; Mountain paths and woodland dells… ...her [nature’s] home is surely there. As well as anthropomorphising nature and giving it a home, the song suggests a specifically geographic sense of home. Galway Bay, written by A. Fahy, does likewise, as do many other Irish songs of exile which link geography with family, kin and sometimes culture to evoke a sense of home. The final verse of Cliffs of Doneen gives a sense of both people and place making up home: Fare thee well to Doneen, fare thee well for a while And to all the kind people I’m leaving behind To the streams and the meadows where late I have been And the high rocky slopes round the cliffs of Doneen. Earlier Irish songs intertwine home with political issues. For example, Tho’ the Last Glimpse of Erin vows to Erin that “In exile thy bosum shall still be my home.” Such exile resulted from a preference of fleeing Ireland rather than bowing to English oppression, which then included a prohibition on Irish having moustaches or certain hairstyles. Thomas Moore is said to have set the words of the song to the air Coulin which itself referred to an Irish woman’s preference for her “Coulin” (a long-haired Irish youth) to the English (Nelson-Burns). Diasporal songs have continued, as has their political edge, as evidenced by global recognition of songs such as Bayan Ko (My Country), written by José Corazon de Jesus in 1929, out of love and concern for the Philippines and sung among Filipinos worldwide. Robin Cohen outlines a set of criteria for diaspora that includes a shared belief in the possibility of return to home, evident in songs such as the 1943 Welsh song A Welcome in the Hillside, in which a Welsh word translating roughly as a yearning to return home, hiraeth, is used: We’ll kiss away each hour of hiraeth When you come home again to Wales. However, the immensely popular I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen, not of Irish origin but written by Thomas Westendorf of Illinois in 1875, suggests that such emotions can have a resonance beyond the diaspora. Anti-colonial sentiments about home can also be expressed by long-time inhabitants, as Harry Belafonte demonstrated in Island in the Sun: This is my island in the sun Where my people have toiled since time begun. Though I may sail on many a sea, Her shores will always be home to me. War brought a deluge of sentimental songs lamenting separation from home and loved ones, just as likely to be parents and siblings as sweethearts. Radios allowed wider audiences and greater popularity for these songs. If separation had brought a longing previously, the added horrors of war presented a stronger contrast between that which the young soldiers were missing and that which they were experiencing. Both the First and Second World Wars gave rise to songs long since sung which originated in such separations, but these also had a strong sense of home as defined by the nationalism that has for over a century given the contours of expectations of soldiers. Focusing on home, these songs seldom speak of the details of war. Rather they are specific about what the singers have left behind and what they hope to return to. Songs of home did not have to be written specifically for the war effort nor for overseas troops. Irving Berlin’s 1942 White Christmas, written for a film, became extremely popular with US troops during WWII, instilling a sense of home that related to familiarities and festivities. Expressing a sense of home could be specific and relate to regions or towns, as did I’m Goin’ Back Again to Yarrawonga, or it could refer to any home, anywhere where there were sons away fighting. Indeed the American Civil War song When Johnny Comes Marching Home, written by Patrick Sarsfield Gilmour, was sung by both Northerners and Southerners, so adaptable was it, with home remarkably unspecified and undescribed. The 1914 British song Keep the Home Fires Burning by Ivor Novello and Lena Ford was among those that evoked a connection between home and the military effort and helped establish a responsibility on those at home to remain optimistic: Keep the Homes fires burning While your hearts are yearning, Though your lads are far away They dream of home, There’s a silver lining Through the dark clouds shining, Turn the dark clouds inside out, Till the boys come Home. No space exists in this song for critique of the reasons for war, nor of a role for women other than that of homemaker and moral guardian. It was women’s duty to ensure men enlisted and home was rendered a private site for emotional enlistment for a presumed public good, though ironically also a point of personal hope where the light of love burned for the enlistees’ safe return. Later songs about home and war challenged these traditional notions. Two serve as examples. One is Pink Floyd’s brief musical piece of the 1970s, Bring the Boys Back Home, whose words of protest against the American war on Viet Nam present home, again, as a site of safety but within a less conservative context. Home becomes implicated in a challenge to the prevailing foreign policy and the interests that influence it, undermining the normal public sphere/private sphere distinction. The other more complex song is Judy Small’s Mothers, Daughters, Wives, from 1982, set against a backdrop of home. Small eloquently describes the dynamics of the domestic space and how women understood their roles in relation to the First and Second World Wars and the Viet Nam War. Reinforcing that “The materialities and imaginaries of home are closely connected” (Blunt and Dowling 188), Small sings of how the gold frames held the photographs that mothers kissed each night And the doorframe held the shocked and silent strangers from the fight. Small provides a rare musical insight into the disjuncture between the men who left the domestic space and those who return to it, and we sense that women may have borne much of the brunt of those awful changes. The idea of domestic bliss is also challenged, though from the returned soldier’s point of view, in Redgum’s 1983 song I Was Only Nineteen, written by group member John Schuman. It touches on the tragedy of young men thrust into war situations and the horrific after-affects for them, which cannot be shrugged off on return to home. The nurturing of home has limits but the privacy associated with the domestic sphere has often concealed the violence and mental anguish that happens away from public view. But by this time most of the songs referring to home were dominated once more by sentimental love, often borne of travel as mobility rose. Journeys help “establish the thresholds and boundaries of home” and can give rise to “an idealized, ideological and ethnocentric view of home” (Mallett 78). Where previously songsters had sung of leaving home in exile or for escape from poverty, lyrics from the 1960s onwards often suggested that work had removed people from loved ones. It could be work on a day-by-day basis, as in A Hard Day’s Night from the 1964 film of the same name, where the Beatles illuminate differences between the public sphere of work and the private sphere to which they return: When I’m home, everything seems to be alright, When I’m home feeling you holding me tight, tight, yeah and reiterated by Paul McCartney in Every Night: And every night that day is through But tonight I just want to stay in And be with you. Lyrics such as these and McCartney’s call to be taken “...home to the Mull of Kintyre,” singled him out for his home-and-hearth messages (Dempsey). But work might involve longer absences and thus more deepfelt loneliness. Simon and Garfunkel’s exemplary Homeward Bound starkly portrays a site of “away-ness”: I’m sittin’ in the railway station, got a ticket for my destination… Mundaneness, monotony and predictability contrast with the home to which the singer’s thoughts are constantly escaping. The routine is familiar but the faces are those of strangers. Home here is, again, not simply a domicile but the warmth of those we know and love. Written at a railway station, Homeward Bound echoes sentiments almost identical to those of (Leaving on a) Jet Plane, written by John Denver at an airport in 1967. Denver also co-wrote (Take Me Home) Country Roads, where, in another example of anthropomorphism as a tool of establishing a strong link, he asks to be taken home to the place I belong West Virginia, mountain momma, Take me home, Country Roads. The theme has recurred in numerous songs since, spawning examples such as Darin and Alquist’s When I Get Home, Chris Daughtry’s Home, Michael Bublé’s Home and Will Smith’s Ain’t No Place Like Home, where, in an opening reminiscent of Homeward Bound, the singer is Sitting in a hotel room A thousand miles away from nowhere Sloped over a chair as I stare… Furniture from home, on the other hand, can be used to evoke contentment and bliss, as demonstrated by George Weiss and Bob Thiele’s song The Home Fire, in which both kin and the objects of home become charged with meaning: All of the folks that I love are there I got a date with my favourite chair Of course, in regard to earlier songs especially, while the traveller associates home with love, security and tenderness, back at home the waiting one may have had feelings more of frustration and oppression. One is desperate to get back home, but for all we know the other may be desperate to get out of home or to develop a life more meaningful than that which was then offered to women. If the lot of homemakers was invisible to national economies (Waring), it seemed equally invisible to mainstream songwriters. This reflects the tradition that “Despite home being generally considered a feminine, nurturing space created by women themselves, they often lack both authority and a space of their own within this realm” (Mallett 75). Few songs have offered the perspective of the one at home awaiting the return of the traveller. One exception is the Seekers’ 1965 A World of Our Own but, written by Tom Springfield, the words trilled by Judith Durham may have been more of a projection of the traveller’s hopes and expectations than a true reflection of the full experiences of housebound women of the day. Certainly, the song reinforces connections between home and intimacy and privacy: Close the door, light the lights. We’re stayin’ home tonight, Far away from the bustle and the bright city lights. Let them all fade away, just leave us alone And we’ll live in a world of our own. This also strongly supports Gaston Bachelard’s claim that one’s house in the sense of a home is one’s “first universe, a real cosmos” (qtd. in Blunt and Dowling 12). But privacy can also be a loneliness when home is not inhabited by loved ones, as in the lyrics of Don Gibson’s 1958 Oh, Lonesome Me, where Everybody’s going out and having fun I’m a fool for staying home and having none. Similar sentiments emerge in Debbie Boone’s You Light up My Life: So many nights I’d sit by my window Waiting for someone to sing me his song. Home in these situations can be just as alienating as the “away” depicted as so unfriendly by Homeward Bound’s strangers’ faces and the “million people” who still leave Michael Bublé feeling alone. Yet there are other songs that depict “away” as a prison made of freedom, insinuating that the lack of a home and consequently of the stable love and commitment presumably found there is a sad situation indeed. This is suggested by the lilting tune, if not by the lyrics themselves, in songs such as Wandrin’ Star from the musical Paint Your Wagon and Ron Miller’s I’ve Never Been to Me, which has both a male and female version with different words, reinforcing gendered experiences. The somewhat conservative lyrics in the female version made it a perfect send-up song in the 1994 film Priscilla: Queen of the Desert. In some songs the absentee is not a traveller but has been in jail. In Tie a Yellow Ribbon round the Ole Oak Tree, an ex-inmate states “I’m comin’ home. I’ve done my time.” Home here is contingent upon the availability and forgivingness of his old girl friend. Another song juxtaposing home with prison is Tom Jones’ The Green, Green Grass of Home in which the singer dreams he is returning to his home, to his parents, girlfriend and, once again, an old oak tree. However, he awakes to find he was dreaming and is about to be executed. His body will be taken home and placed under the oak tree, suggesting some resigned sense of satisfaction that he will, after all, be going home, albeit in different circumstances. Death and home are thus sometimes linked, with home a euphemism for the former, as suggested in many spirituals, with heaven or an afterlife being considered “going home”. The reverse is the case in the haunting Bring Him Home of the musical Les Misérables. With Marius going off to the barricades and the danger involved, Jean Valjean prays for the young man’s safe return and that he might live. Home is connected here with life, safety and ongoing love. In a number of songs about home and absence there is a sense of home being a place where morality is gently enforced, presumably by women who keep men on the straight and narrow, in line with one of the women’s roles of colonial Australia, researched by Anne Summers. These songs imply that when men wander from home, their morals also go astray. Wild Rover bemoans Oh, I’ve been a wild rover for many a year, and I’ve spent all my money on whiskey and beer… There is the resolve in the chorus, however, that home will have a reforming influence. Gene Pitney’s Twenty-Four Hours from Tulsa poses the dangers of distance from a wife’s influence, while displaying opposition to the sentimental yearning of so many other songs: Dearest darlin’, I have to write to say that I won’t be home anymore ‘cause something happened to me while I was drivin’ home And I’m not the same anymore Class as well as gender can be a debated issue in meanings attached to home, as evident in several songs that take a more jaundiced view of home, seeing it as a place from which to escape. The Animals’ powerful We Gotta Get Outta This Place clearly suggests a life of drudgery in a home town or region. Protectively, the lyrics insist “Girl, there’s a better life for me and you” but it has to be elsewhere. This runs against the grain of other British songs addressing poverty or a working class existence as something that comes with its own blessings, all to do with an area identified as home. These traits may be loyalty, familiarity or a refusal to judge and involve identities of placement rather than of displacement in, for instance, Gerry and the Pacemakers’ Ferry Cross the Mersey: People around every corner, they seem to smile and say “We don’t care what your name is, boy. We’ll never send you away.” This bears out Blunt and Dowling’s claim that “people’s senses of themselves are related to and produced through lived and metaphorical experiences of home” (252). It also resonates with some of the region-based identity and solidarity issues explored a short time later by Paul Willis in his study of working class youth in Britain, which help to inform how a sense of home can operate to constrict consciousness, ideas and aspirations. Identity features strongly in other songs about home. Several years after Neil Young recorded his 1970 song Southern Man about racism in the south of the USA, the group Lynyrd Skynyrd, responded with Sweet Home Alabama. While the meaning of its lyrics are still debated, there is no debate about the way in which the song has been embraced, as I recently discovered first-hand in Tennessee. A banjo-and-fiddle band performing the song during a gig virtually brought down the house as the predominantly southern audience clapped, whopped and stamped its feet. The real meanings of home were found not in the lyrics but in the audience’s response. Wally Johnson and Bob Brown’s 1975 Home Among the Gum Trees is a more straightforward ode to home, with lyrics that prescribe a set of non-commodified values. It is about simplicity and the right to embrace a lifestyle that includes companionship, leisure and an enjoyment of and appreciation of nature, all threatened seriously in the three decades since the song’s writing. The second verse in which large shopping complexes – and implicitly the consumerism they encourage – are eschewed (“I’d trade it all tomorrow for a little bush retreat where the kookaburras call”), is a challenge to notions of progress and reflects social movements of the day, The Green Bans Movement, for instance, took a broader and more socially conscientious attitude towards home and community, putting forward alternative sets of values and insisting people should have a say in the social and aesthetic construction of their neighbourhoods as well as the impacts of their labour (Mundey). Ironically, the song has gone on to become the theme song for a TV show about home gardens. With a strong yet more vague notion of home, Peter Allen’s I Still Call Australia Home, was more prone to commodification and has been adopted as a promotional song for Qantas. Nominating only the desire to travel and the love of freedom as Australian values, both politically and socially innocuous within the song’s context, this catchy and uplifting song, when not being used as an advertisement, paradoxically works for a “diaspora” of Australians who are not in exile but have mostly travelled for reasons of pleasure or professional or financial gain. Another paradox arises from the song Home on the Range, dating back to the 19th century at a time when the frontier was still a strong concept in the USA and people were simultaneously leaving homes and reminiscing about home (Mechem). Although it was written in Kansas, the lyrics – again vague and adaptable – were changed by other travellers so that versions such as Colorado Home and My Arizona Home soon abounded. In 1947 Kansas made Home on the Range its state song, despite there being very few buffalo left there, thus highlighting a disjuncture between the modern Kansas and “a home where the buffalo roam” as described in the song. These themes, paradoxes and oppositional understandings of home only scratch the surface of the wide range of claims that are made on home throughout popular music. It has been shown that home is a flexible concept, referring to homelands, regions, communities and private houses. While predominantly used to evoke positive feelings, mostly with traditional views of the relationships that lie within homes, songs also raise challenges to notions of domesticity, the rights of those inhabiting the private sphere and the demarcation between the private and public spheres. Songs about home reflect contexts and challenges of their respective eras and remind us that vigorous discussion takes place about and within homes. The challenges are changing. Where many women once felt restrictively tied to the home – and no doubt many continue to do so – many women and men are now struggling to rediscover spatial boundaries, with production and consumption increasingly impinging upon relationships that have so frequently given the term home its meaning. With evidence that we are working longer hours and that home life, in whatever form, is frequently suffering (Beder, Hochschild), the discussion should continue. In the words of Sam Cooke, Bring it on home to me! References Bacheland, Gaston. The Poetics of Space. Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1994. Beder, Sharon. Selling the Work Ethic: From Puritan Pulpit to Corporate PR. London: Zed Books, 2000. Blunt, Alison, and Robyn Dowling. Home. London: Routledge, 2006. Cohen, Robin. Global Diasporas: An Introduction. London: UCL Press, 1997. Cooper, B. Lee. “Good Timin’: Searching for Meaning in Clock Songs.” Popular Music and Society 30.1 (Feb. 2007): 93-106. Dempsey, J.M. “McCartney at 60: A Body of Work Celebrating Home and Hearth.” Popular Music and Society 27.1 (Feb. 2004): 27-40. Eva, Phil. “Home Sweet Home? The Culture of ‘Exile’ in Mid-Victorian Popular Song.” Popular Music 16.2 (May 1997): 131-150. Hochschild, Arlie. The Time Bind: When Work Becomes Home and Home Becomes Work. New York: Metropolitan/Holt, 1997. Mallett, Sonia. “Understanding Home: A Critical Review of the Literature.” The Sociological Review 52.1 (2004): 62-89. Mechem, Kirke, “The Story of ‘Home on the Range’.” Reprint from the Kansas Historical Quarterly (Nov. 1949). Topeka, Kansas: Kansas State Historical Society. 28 May 2007 http://www.emporia.edu/cgps/tales/nov2003.html>. Mundey, Jack. Green Bans and Beyond. Sydney: Angus & Robertson, 1981. Nelson-Burns, Lesley. Folk Music of England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales and America. 29 May 2007 http://www.contemplator.com/ireland/thoerin.html>. Summers, Anne. Damned Whores and God’s Police: The Colonization of Women in Australia. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1975. Walter, Bronwen. Outsiders Inside: Whiteness, Place and Irish Women. London: Routledge, 2001. Waring, Marilyn. Counting for Nothing: What Men Value and What Women Are Worth. Wellington, NZ: Allen & Unwin, 1988. Willis, Paul. Learning to Labor: How Working Class Kids Get Working Class Jobs. New York: Columbia UP, 1977. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Varney, Wendy. "Homeward Bound or Housebound?: Themes of Home in Popular Music." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/16-varney.php>. APA Style Varney, W. (Aug. 2007) "Homeward Bound or Housebound?: Themes of Home in Popular Music," M/C Journal, 10(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/16-varney.php>.

In the last months of his life, 86-year-old Albert Facey became a best-selling author and revered cultural figure following the publication of his autobiography, A Fortunate Life. Released on Anzac Day 1981, it was praised for its “plain, unembellished, utterly sincere and un-self-pitying account of the privations of childhood and youth” (Semmler) and “extremely powerful description of Gallipoli” (Dutton 16). Within weeks, critic Nancy Keesing declared it an “Enduring Classic.” Within six months, it was announced as the winner of two prestigious non-fiction awards, with judges acknowledging Facey’s “extraordinary memory” and “ability to describe scenes and characters with great precision” (“NBC” 4). A Fortunate Life also transformed the fortunes of its publisher. Founded in 1976 as an independent, not-for-profit publishing house, Fremantle Arts Centre Press (FACP) might have been expected, given the Australian average, to survive for just a few years. Former managing editor Ray Coffey attributes the Press’s ongoing viability, in no small measure, to Facey’s success (King 29). Along with Wendy Jenkins, Coffey edited Facey’s manuscript through to publication; only five months after its release, with demand outstripping the capabilities, FACP licensed Penguin to take over the book’s production and distribution. Adaptations soon followed. In 1984, Kerry Packer’s PBL launched a prospectus for a mini-series, which raised a record $6.3 million (PBL 7–8). Aired in 1986 with a high-rating documentary called The Facey Phenomenon, the series became the most watched television event of the year (Lucas). Syndication of chapters to national and regional newspapers, stage and radio productions, audio- and e-books, abridged editions for young readers, and inclusion on secondary school curricula extended the range and influence of Facey’s life writing. Recently, an option was taken out for a new television series (Fraser).A hundred reprints and two million readers on from initial publication, A Fortunate Life continues to rate among the most appreciated Australian books of all time. Commenting on a reader survey in 2012, writer and critic Marieke Hardy enthused, “I really loved it [. . .] I felt like I was seeing a part of my country and my country’s history through a very human voice . . .” (First Tuesday Book Club). Registering a transformed reading, Hardy’s reference to Australian “history” is unproblematically juxtaposed with amused delight in an autobiography that invents and embellishes: not believing “half” of what Facey wrote, she insists he was foremost a yarn spinner. While the work’s status as a witness account has become less authoritative over time, it seems appreciation of the author’s imagination and literary skill has increased (Williamson). A Fortunate Life has been read more commonly as an uncomplicated, first-hand account, such that editor Wendy Jenkins felt it necessary to refute as an “utter mirage” that memoir is “transferred to the page by an act of perfect dictation.” Sidonie Smith and Julia Watson argue of life narratives that some “autobiographical claims [. . .] can be verified or discounted by recourse to documentation outside the text. But autobiographical truth is a different matter” (16). With increased access to archives, especially digitised personnel records, historians have asserted that key elements of Facey’s autobiography are incorrect or “fabricated” (Roberts), including his enlistment in 1914 and participation in the Gallipoli Landing on 25 April 1915. We have researched various sources relevant to Facey’s early years and war service, including hard-copy medical and repatriation records released in 2012, and find A Fortunate Life in a range of ways deviates from “documentation outside of the text,” revealing intriguing, layered storytelling. We agree with Smith and Watson that “autobiographical acts” are “anything but simple or transparent” (63). As “symbolic interactions in the world,” they are “culturally and historically specific” and “engaged in an argument about identity” (63). Inevitably, they are also “fractured by the play of meaning” (63). Our approach, therefore, includes textual analysis of Facey’s drafts alongside the published narrative and his medical records. We do not privilege institutional records as impartial but rather interpret them in terms of their hierarchies and organisation of knowledge. This leads us to speculate on alternative readings of A Fortunate Life as an illness narrative that variously resists and subscribes to dominant cultural plots, tropes, and attitudes. Facey set about writing in earnest in the 1970s and generated (at least) three handwritten drafts, along with a typescript based on the third draft. FACP produced its own working copy from the typescript. Our comparison of the drafts offers insights into the production of Facey’s final text and the otherwise “hidden” roles of editors as transformers and enablers (Munro 1). The notion that a working man with basic literacy could produce a highly readable book in part explains Facey’s enduring appeal. His grandson and literary executor, John Rose, observed in early interviews that Facey was a “natural storyteller” who had related details of his life at every opportunity over a period of more than six decades (McLeod). Jenkins points out that Facey belonged to a vivid oral culture within which he “told and retold stories to himself and others,” so that they eventually “rubbed down into the lines and shapes that would so memorably underpin the extended memoir that became A Fortunate Life.” A mystique was thereby established that “time” was Albert Facey’s “first editor” (Jenkins). The publisher expressly aimed to retain Facey’s voice, content, and meaning, though editing included much correcting of grammar and punctuation, eradication of internal inconsistencies and anomalies, and structural reorganisation into six sections and 68 chapters. We find across Facey’s drafts a broadly similar chronology detailing childhood abandonment, life-threatening incidents, youthful resourcefulness, physical prowess, and participation in the Gallipoli Landing. However, there are also shifts and changed details, including varying descriptions of childhood abuse at a place called Cave Rock; the introduction of (incompatible accounts of) interstate boxing tours in drafts two and three which replace shearing activities in Draft One; divergent tales of Facey as a world-standard athlete, league footballer, expert marksman, and powerful swimmer; and changing stories of enlistment and war service (see Murphy and Nile, “Wounded”; “Naked”).Jenkins edited those sections concerned with childhood and youth, while Coffey attended to Facey’s war and post-war life. Drawing on C.E.W. Bean’s official war history, Coffey introduced specificity to the draft’s otherwise vague descriptions of battle and amended errors, such as Facey’s claim to have witnessed Lord Kitchener on the beach at Gallipoli. Importantly, Coffey suggested the now famous title, “A Fortunate Life,” and encouraged the author to alter the ending. When asked to suggest a title, Facey offered “Cave Rock” (Interview)—the site of his violent abuse and humiliation as a boy. Draft One concluded with Facey’s repatriation from the war and marriage in 1916 (106); Draft Two with a brief account of continuing post-war illness and ultimate defeat: “My war injuries caught up with me again” (107). The submitted typescript concludes: “I have often thought that going to War has caused my life to be wasted” (Typescript 206). This ending differs dramatically from the redemptive vision of the published narrative: “I have lived a very good life, it has been very rich and full. I have been very fortunate and I am thrilled by it when I look back” (412).In The Wounded Storyteller, Arthur Frank argues that literary markets exist for stories of “narrative wreckage” (196) that are redeemed by reconciliation, resistance, recovery, or rehabilitation, which is precisely the shape of Facey’s published life story and a source of its popularity. Musing on his post-war experiences in A Fortunate Life, Facey focuses on his ability to transform the material world around him: “I liked the challenge of building up a place from nothing and making a success where another fellow had failed” (409). If Facey’s challenge was building up something from nothing, something he could set to work on and improve, his life-writing might reasonably be regarded as a part of this broader project and desire for transformation, so that editorial interventions helped him realise this purpose. Facey’s narrative was produced within a specific zeitgeist, which historian Joy Damousi notes was signalled by publication in 1974 of Bill Gammage’s influential, multiply-reprinted study of front-line soldiers, The Broken Years, which drew on the letters and diaries of a thousand Great War veterans, and also the release in 1981 of Peter Weir’s film Gallipoli, for which Gammage was the historical advisor. The story of Australia’s war now conceptualised fallen soldiers as “innocent victims” (Damousi 101), while survivors were left to “compose” memories consistent with their sacrifice (Thomson 237–54). Viewing Facey’s drafts reminds us that life narratives are works of imagination, that the past is not fixed and memory is created in the present. Facey’s autobiographical efforts and those of his publisher to improve the work’s intelligibility and relevance together constitute an attempt to “objectify the self—to present it as a knowable object—through a narrative that re-structures [. . .] the self as history and conclusions” (Foster 10). Yet, such histories almost invariably leave “a crucial gap” or “censored chapter.” Dennis Foster argues that conceiving of narration as confession, rather than expression, “allows us to see the pathos of the simultaneous pursuit and evasion of meaning” (10); we believe a significant lacuna in Facey’s life writing is intimated by its various transformations.In a defining episode, A Fortunate Life proposes that Facey was taken from Gallipoli on 19 August 1915 due to wounding that day from a shell blast that caused sandbags to fall on him, crush his leg, and hurt him “badly inside,” and a bullet to the shoulder (348). The typescript, however, includes an additional but narratively irreconcilable date of 28 June for the same wounding. The later date, 19 August, was settled on for publication despite the author’s compelling claim for the earlier one: “I had been blown up by a shell and some 7 or 8 sandbags had fallen on top of me, the day was the 28th of June 1915, how I remembered this date, it was the day my brother Roy had been killed by a shell burst.” He adds: “I was very ill for about six weeks after the incident but never reported it to our Battalion doctor because I was afraid he would send me away” (Typescript 205). This account accords with Facey’s first draft and his medical records but is inconsistent with other parts of the typescript that depict an uninjured Facey taking a leading role in fierce fighting throughout July and August. It appears, furthermore, that Facey was not badly wounded at any time. His war service record indicates that he was removed from Gallipoli due to “heart troubles” (Repatriation), which he also claims in his first draft. Facey’s editors did not have ready access to military files in Canberra, while medical files were not released until 2012. There existed, therefore, virtually no opportunity to corroborate the author’s version of events, while the official war history and the records of the State Library of Western Australia, which were consulted, contain no reference to Facey or his war service (Interview). As a consequence, the editors were almost entirely dependent on narrative logic and clarifications by an author whose eyesight and memory had deteriorated to such an extent he was unable to read his amended text. A Fortunate Life depicts men with “nerve sickness” who were not permitted to “stay at the Front because they would be upsetting to the others, especially those who were inclined that way themselves” (350). By cross referencing the draft manuscripts against medical records, we can now perceive that Facey was regarded as one of those nerve cases. According to Facey’s published account, his wounds “baffled” doctors in Egypt and Fremantle (353). His medical records reveal that in September 1915, while hospitalised in Egypt, his “palpitations” were diagnosed as “Tachycardia” triggered by war-induced neuroses that began on 28 June. This suggests that Facey endured seven weeks in the field in this condition, with the implication being that his debility worsened, resulting in his hospitalisation. A diagnosis of “debility,” “nerves,” and “strain” placed Facey in a medical category of “Special Invalids” (Butler 541). Major A.W. Campbell noted in the Medical Journal of Australia in 1916 that the war was creating “many cases of little understood nervous and mental affections, not only where a definite wound has been received, but in many cases where nothing of the sort appears” (323). Enlisted doctors were either physicians or surgeons and sometimes both. None had any experience of trauma on the scale of the First World War. In 1915, Campbell was one of only two Australian doctors with any pre-war experience of “mental diseases” (Lindstrom 30). On staff at the Australian Base Hospital at Heliopolis throughout the Gallipoli campaign, he claimed that at times nerve cases “almost monopolised” the wards under his charge (319). Bearing out Facey’s description, Campbell also reported that affected men “received no sympathy” and, as “carriers of psychic contagion,” were treated as a “source of danger” to themselves and others (323). Credentialed by royal colleges in London and coming under British command, Australian medical teams followed the practice of classifying men presenting “nervous or mental symptoms” as “battle casualties” only if they had also been wounded by “enemy action” (Loughran 106). By contrast, functional disability, with no accompanying physical wounds, was treated as unmanly and a “hysterical” reaction to the pressures of war. Mental debility was something to be feared in the trenches and diagnosis almost invariably invoked charges of predisposition or malingering (Tyquin 148–49). This shifted responsibility (and blame) from the war to the individual. Even as late as the 1950s, medical notes referred to Facey’s condition as being “constitutional” (Repatriation).Facey’s narrative demonstrates awareness of how harshly sufferers were treated. We believe that he defended himself against this with stories of physical injury that his doctors never fully accepted and that he may have experienced conversion disorder, where irreconcilable experience finds somatic expression. His medical diagnosis in 1915 and later life writing establish a causal link with the explosion and his partial burial on 28 June, consistent with opinion at the time that linked concussive blasts with destabilisation of the nervous system (Eager 422). Facey was also badly shaken by exposure to the violence and abjection of war, including hand-to-hand combat and retrieving for burial shattered and often decomposed bodies, and, in particular, by the death of his brother Roy, whose body was blown to pieces on 28 June. (A second brother, Joseph, was killed by multiple bayonet wounds while Facey was convalescing in Egypt.) Such experiences cast a different light on Facey’s observation of men suffering nerves on board the hospital ship: “I have seen men doze off into a light sleep and suddenly jump up shouting, ‘Here they come! Quick! Thousands of them. We’re doomed!’” (350). Facey had escaped the danger of death by explosion or bayonet but at a cost, and the war haunted him for the rest of his days. On disembarkation at Fremantle on 20 November 1915, he was admitted to hospital where he remained on and off for several months. Forty-one other sick and wounded disembarked with him (HMAT). Around one third, experiencing nerve-related illness, had been sent home for rest; while none returned to the war, some of the physically wounded did (War Service Records). During this time, Facey continued to present with “frequent attacks of palpitation and giddiness,” was often “short winded,” and had “heart trouble” (Repatriation). He was discharged from the army in June 1916 but, his drafts suggest, his war never really ended. He began a new life as a wounded Anzac. His dependent and often fractious relationship with the Repatriation Department ended only with his death 66 years later. Historian Marina Larsson persuasively argues that repatriated sick and wounded servicemen from the First World War represented a displaced presence at home. Many led liminal lives of “disenfranchised grief” (80). Stephen Garton observes a distinctive Australian use of repatriation to describe “all policies involved in returning, discharging, pensioning, assisting and training returned men and women, and continuing to assist them throughout their lives” (74). Its primary definition invokes coming home but to repatriate also implies banishment from a place that is not home, so that Facey was in this sense expelled from Gallipoli and, by extension, excluded from the myth of Anzac. Unlike his two brothers, he would not join history as one of the glorious dead; his name would appear on no roll of honour. Return home is not equivalent to restoration of his prior state and identity, for baggage from the other place perpetually weighs. Furthermore, failure to regain health and independence strains hospitality and gratitude for the soldier’s service to King and country. This might be exacerbated where there is no evident or visible injury, creating suspicion of resistance, cowardice, or malingering. Over 26 assessments between 1916 and 1958, when Facey was granted a full war pension, the Repatriation Department observed him as a “neuropathic personality” exhibiting “paroxysmal tachycardia” and “neurocirculatory asthenia.” In 1954, doctors wrote, “We consider the condition is a real handicap and hindrance to his getting employment.” They noted that after “attacks,” Facey had a “busted depressed feeling,” but continued to find “no underlying myocardial disease” (Repatriation) and no validity in Facey’s claims that he had been seriously physically wounded in the war (though A Fortunate Life suggests a happier outcome, where an independent medical panel finally locates the cause of his ongoing illness—rupture of his spleen in the war—which results in an increased war pension). Facey’s condition was, at times, a source of frustration for the doctors and, we suspect, disappointment and shame to him, though this appeared to reduce on both sides when the Repatriation Department began easing proof of disability from the 1950s (Thomson 287), and the Department of Veteran’s Affairs was created in 1976. This had the effect of shifting public and media scrutiny back onto a system that had until then deprived some “innocent victims of the compensation that was their due” (Garton 249). Such changes anticipated the introduction of Post-Traumatic Shock Disorder (PTSD) to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) in 1980. Revisions to the DSM established a “genealogy of trauma” and “panic disorders” (100, 33), so that diagnoses such as “neuropathic personality” (Echterling, Field, and Stewart 192) and “soldier’s heart,” that is, disorders considered “neurotic,” were “retrospectively reinterpreted” as a form of PTSD. However, Alberti points out that, despite such developments, war-related trauma continues to be contested (80). We propose that Albert Facey spent his adult life troubled by a sense of regret and failure because of his removal from Gallipoli and that he attempted to compensate through storytelling, which included his being an original Anzac and seriously wounded in action. By writing, Facey could shore up his rectitude, work ethic, and sense of loyalty to other servicemen, which became necessary, we believe, because repatriation doctors (and probably others) had doubted him. In 1927 and again in 1933, an examining doctor concluded: “The existence of a disability depends entirely on his own unsupported statements” (Repatriation). We argue that Facey’s Gallipoli experiences transformed his life. By his own account, he enlisted for war as a physically robust and supremely athletic young man and returned nine months later to life-long anxiety and ill-health. Publication transformed him into a national sage, earning him, in his final months, the credibility, empathy, and affirmation he had long sought. Exploring different accounts of Facey, in the shape of his drafts and institutional records, gives rise to new interpretations. In this context, we believe it is time for a new edition of A Fortunate Life that recognises it as a complex testimonial narrative and theorises Facey’s deployment of national legends and motifs in relation to his “wounded storytelling” as well as to shifting cultural and medical conceptualisations and treatments of shame and trauma. ReferencesAlberti, Fay Bound. Matters of the Heart: History, Medicine, and Emotions. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2010. Butler, A.G. Official History of the Australian Medical Services 1814-1918: Vol I Gallipoli, Palestine and New Guinea. Canberra: Australian War Memorial, 1930.Campbell, A.W. “Remarks on Some Neuroses and Psychoses in War.” Medical Journal of Australia 15 April (1916): 319–23.Damousi, Joy. “Why Do We Get So Emotional about Anzac.” What’s Wrong with Anzac. Ed. Marilyn Lake and Henry Reynolds. Sydney: UNSWP, 2015. 94–109.Dutton, Geoffrey. “Fremantle Arts Centre Press Publicity.” Australian Book Review May (1981): 16.Eager, R. “War Neuroses Occurring in Cases with a Definitive History of Shell Shock.” British Medical Journal 13 Apr. 1918): 422–25.Echterling, L.G., Thomas A. Field, and Anne L. Stewart. “Evolution of PTSD in the DSM.” Future Directions in Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder: Prevention, Diagnosis, and Treatment. Ed. Marilyn P. Safir and Helene S. Wallach. New York: Springer, 2015. 189–212.Facey, A.B. A Fortunate Life. 1981. Ringwood: Penguin, 2005.———. Drafts 1–3. University of Western Australia, Special Collections.———. Transcript. University of Western Australia, Special Collections.First Tuesday Book Club. ABC Splash. 4 Dec. 2012. <http://splash.abc.net.au/home#!/media/1454096/http&>.Foster, Dennis. Confession and Complicity in Narrative. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1987.Frank, Arthur. The Wounded Storyteller. London: U of Chicago P, 1995.Fraser, Jane. “CEO Says.” Fremantle Press. 7 July 2015. <https://www.fremantlepress.com.au/c/news/3747-ceo-says-9>.Garton, Stephen. The Cost of War: Australians Return. Melbourne: Oxford UP, 1994.HMAT Aeneas. “Report of Passengers for the Port of Fremantle from Ports Beyond the Commonwealth.” 20 Nov. 1915. <http://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/SearchNRetrieve/Interface/ViewImage.aspx?B=9870708&S=1>.“Interview with Ray Coffey.” Personal interview. 6 May 2016. Follow-up correspondence. 12 May 2016.Jenkins, Wendy. “Tales from the Backlist: A Fortunate Life Turns 30.” Fremantle Press, 14 April 2011. <https://www.fremantlepress.com.au/c/bookclubs/574-tales-from-the-backlist-a-fortunate-life-turns-30>.Keesing, Nancy. ‘An Enduring Classic.’ Australian Book Review (May 1981). FACP Press Clippings. Fremantle. n. pag.King, Noel. “‘I Can’t Go On … I’ll Go On’: Interview with Ray Coffey, Fremantle Arts Centre Press, 22 Dec. 2004; 24 May 2006.” Westerly 51 (2006): 31–54.Larsson, Marina. “A Disenfranchised Grief: Post War Death and Memorialisation in Australia after the First World War.” Australian Historical Studies 40.1 (2009): 79–95.Lindstrom, Richard. “The Australian Experience of Psychological Casualties in War: 1915-1939.” PhD dissertation. Victoria University, Feb. 1997.Loughran, Tracey. “Shell Shock, Trauma, and the First World War: The Making of a Diagnosis and its Histories.” Journal of the History of Medical and Allied Sciences 67.1 (2012): 99–119.Lucas, Anne. “Curator’s Notes.” A Fortunate Life. Australian Screen. <http://aso.gov.au/titles/tv/a-fortunate-life/notes/>.McLeod, Steve. “My Fortunate Life with Grandad.” Western Magazine Dec. (1983): 8.Munro, Craig. Under Cover: Adventures in the Art of Editing. Brunswick: Scribe, 2015.Murphy, Ffion, and Richard Nile. “The Naked Anzac: Exposure and Concealment in A.B. Facey’s A Fortunate Life.” Southerly 75.3 (2015): 219–37.———. “Wounded Storyteller: Revisiting Albert Facey’s Fortunate Life.” Westerly 60.2 (2015): 87–100.“NBC Book Awards.” Australian Book Review Oct. (1981): 1–4.PBL. Prospectus: A Fortunate Life, the Extraordinary Life of an Ordinary Bloke. 1–8.Repatriation Records. Albert Facey. National Archives of Australia.Roberts, Chris. “Turkish Machine Guns at the Landing.” Wartime: Official Magazine of the Australian War Memorial 50 (2010). <https://www.awm.gov.au/wartime/50/roberts_machinegun/>.Semmler, Clement. “The Way We Were before the Good Life.” Courier Mail 10 Oct. 1981. FACP Press Clippings. Fremantle. n. pag.Smith, Sidonie, and Julia Watson. Reading Autobiography: A Guide for Interpreting Life Narratives. 2001. 2nd ed. U of Minnesota P, 2010.Thomson, Alistair. Anzac Memories: Living with the Legend. 1994. 2nd ed. Melbourne: Monash UP, 2013. Tyquin, Michael. Gallipoli, the Medical War: The Australian Army Services in the Dardanelles Campaign of 1915. Kensington: UNSWP, 1993.War Service Records. National Archives of Australia. <http://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/NameSearch/Interface/NameSearchForm.aspx>.Williamson, Geordie. “A Fortunate Life.” Copyright Agency. <http://readingaustralia.com.au/essays/a-fortunate-life/>.