Journal articles on the topic 'Masonic rituals'

In eighteenth-century Europe, ritual performance behavior was consciously used for philosophical purposes. The richest documented instances of this involved Freemasonry, a voluntary fraternal order that drew tens of thousands of men, across Europe and beyond, into a secretive ritual practice. Masons understood ritual, the core of Masonic “craft,” as a philosophical activity in itself. Supporting this claim requires a critique of the prevalent view that Freemasonry was uniquely compatible with specific Enlightenment philosophical constructs—constitutional monarchism in political thought and deistic Newtonianism in natural philosophy. Rather than expressing these specific philosophical views, Masonic ritual effectuated philosophical reflection apart from the outside world. John Toland's proto-Masonic ritual document Pantheisticon shows how early modern rituals fostered thinking in lodge settings and distinguished between Masonic and “profane” entities. On this basis it can be argued that performance in this era and beyond should be understood as the generative containment of knowledge.

The Age of Enlightenment is defined as the period when the universal ideas of progress, deism, humanism, naturalism and others were materialized and became a golden age for freemasons. It is wrong to assume that old and conservative Christian ideas were rejected. Conversely, freemasons put them into new general shapes and expressed them with the help of symbols in their daily routine. Symbols of freemasons had close ties with the past and gave them, on the one hand, a visible instrument, such as rituals and ideas to sense the transcendental, and on the other, intense gnostic aspirations. Freemasons put in a great amount of effort to improve themselves and to create their identity with the help of myths and symbols. It traces its origins to the biblical builders of King Solomon’s Temple, the posterity of the Templar Knights, and associations of the medieval craft guilds, which were also symbolical and became their link not only to each other but also to the secular world. In this work we analysed codified masonic symbols used in their rituals. The subject of our research is the universal Masonic idea and its aspects through the symbols in the daily life of the freemasons in Vilnius. Thanks to freemasons’ signets, we could find continuity, reception, and transformation of universal masonic ideas in the Lithuanian freemasonry and national characteristics of lodges. Taking everything into account, our article shows how the universal idea of freemasonry spread among Lithuanian freemasonry, and which forms and meanings it incorporated in its symbols. The objective of this research is to find a universal Masonic idea throughout their visual and oral symbols and see its impact on the daily life of the masons in Vilnius. Keywords: Freemasonry, Bible, lodge, symbols, rituals, freemasons’ signets.

In a complex of interconnecting tunnels at Avigliano in South Italy there are two inscriptions at two entrances in eighteenth century lettering referring, one to Inferno, the other to Elysium. The measurements of the spatial components of the tunnels refer to Pythagorean numerology. The complex is on land formerly belonging to the local Corbo family and was probably constructed about 1762 by Carlo Corbo for rituals of the mystical, somewhat unorthodox Neapolitan freemasonry of the time. They can be compared to the tunnels at West Wycombe, England where Sir Francis Dashwood who, like many contemporaries, was acquainted with Italian freemasonry, apparently parodied such masonic ideas. The Avigliano tunnels were still in use in 1838. By then the Corbo were embroiled in revolutionary politics perceived as having masonic links.

To date, scholars have tended to view Black Israelites as mercenary, derivative, or imitative. However, this microhistorical reading of the public, partial, and hidden transcripts of New York Rabbi Wentworth Arthur Matthew's beliefs and ritual practices demonstrates that Black Israelites did not simply imitate Jews, but rather they were bricoleurs who constructed a polycultural religion that creatively reworked threads from religious faiths, secret societies, and magical grimoires. Black Israelite religious identity was imagined and performed in sidewalk lectures and in Marcus Garvey's Liberty Hall; it was embodied through Caribbean pageants, and acted out in parades. Black Israelism was lived through secret Spiritualist and Kabbalistic rituals, and taught openly through Sunday Schools and Masonic affiliates. Finally, it was an identity that was formed and performed in a mixture of Sanctified and Judaic rites. Print culture, performance, and complex social networks were all important to the imagination and realization of this new Israelite religious identity. Recognizing the subversive quality of this bricolage and the complexity of its partial and hidden transcripts belies attempts to exclude esoteric African American new religious movements from the categories of protest religion and black religion. When one combines the study of Black Israelism with similar studies of African American NRM's of the 1920s, it is possible to appreciate a remarkable wave of overlapping esoteric religious creativity that accompanied the much more famous artistic creativity of the Harlem Renaissance.

Mason contends that we (Howey and O'Shea 2006) created a "chimera" of the Missaukee Earthworks site as a regional ceremonial center in Late Prehistoric Michigan (A.D. 1200-1600) by misinterpreting archaeological and ethnohistoric data. In considering Mason's critique, we re-emphasize the value, and methods, of studying ritual via material remains and show that Mason’s arguments simply serve to exemplify why the culture-historic approach has failed in its effort to understand the pre-contact Native cultures of the Great Lakes. Whitley contends we are misguided about the aims of archaeological studies of ritual and the place of "meaning" in these studies. In considering the "meaning" archaeologists seek in our studies of past ritual, we emphasize the problems we see in quests for what is ultimately immaterial and unrecoverable, the internal or emotive "meaning" of past ritual.

The purpose of the article is to present the results of a preliminary religious and historical-cultural study of the band with Masonic symbols from the collection of famous Orel collector P. Based on the analysis of the Masonic symbols placed on the band, the author defines this artifact as part of the ritual vestment of a Mason of the 33-rd degree of dedication of the Scottish Charter of the Southern Jurisdiction of the United States and establishes its approximate dating. After a brief review of the history of this Masonic organization a hypothesis is put forward that this item belongs to specific individuals from among the leaders of the Scottish Charter of the United States. At the same time the author draws attention to cultural-historical and collectible value of this artifact and points out the desirability of conducting a comprehensive scientific examination.

XIX a. pradžioje Lietuvoje, be asmeninių rinkinių (Mykolo Dluskio, Kazimiero Kontrimo, Johano Frydricho Volfgango), masonai kaupė ložių bibliotekas. Apie jas išliko duomenų „Vilniaus universiteto dovanų knygoje, 1792–1832“, „Vilniaus universiteto dienyne“ (pradėtas 1823 m.), Vilniaus ložei „Uolusis lietuvis“ 1816 m. spalio 23 d. M. Dluskio pasirašytame įsigytų knygų sąraše. Straipsnyje, remiantis minėtais šaltiniais, istoriografijos ir bibliografijos duomenimis, išlikusiais spaudiniais, aptariama masonų idėjų raiška knyginėje simbolikoje, analizuojama masonų knygų rinkinių sudėtis, tikėtini įsigijimo šaltiniai ir būdai, išsklaidymo aplinkybės, mėginama atkurti intelektines masonų veiklos ir ideologinės orientacijos gaires vykstančių diskusijų dėl laisvųjų mūrininkų misijos ir reformų (Jokūbo Šimkevičiaus ir K. Kontrimo projektas) kontekste. Nustatyta, kad masonai, 1821 m. pradėti persekioti imperatoriaus Aleksandro I administracijos, Vilniaus universiteto bibliotekai dviem etapais (1824 m. vasario 20 d. ir gegužės 7 d.) perdavė 26 pavadinimų knygas – iš viso 28 vienetus. Dar trys masonų knygos, naudotos rengiantis ritualiniams darbams, identifikuotos remiantis kitais šaltiniais. Dauguma knygų skirtos masonų teisėkūrai, ritualams, istorijai. Buvo kaupiama lektūra prancūzų, vokiečių, lenkų, lotynų, rusų kalbomis. Didesnė masonų knygų dalis po universiteto uždarymo buvo išvežta į Kijevą, o XX a. viduryje prof. Levo Vladimirovo pastangomis sugrąžinta į Vilniaus universiteto bibliotekos saugyklas.

XIX a. pradžioje Lietuvoje, be asmeninių rinkinių (Mykolo Dluskio, Kazimiero Kontrimo, Johano Frydricho Volfgango), masonai kaupė ložių bibliotekas. Apie jas išliko duomenų „Vilniaus universiteto dovanų knygoje, 1792–1832“, „Vilniaus universiteto dienyne“ (pradėtas 1823 m.), Vilniaus ložei „Uolusis lietuvis“ 1816 m. spalio 23 d. M. Dluskio pasirašytame įsigytų knygų sąraše. Straipsnyje, remiantis minėtais šaltiniais, istoriografijos ir bibliografijos duomenimis, išlikusiais spaudiniais, aptariama masonų idėjų raiška knyginėje simbolikoje, analizuojama masonų knygų rinkinių sudėtis, tikėtini įsigijimo šaltiniai ir būdai, išsklaidymo aplinkybės, mėginama atkurti intelektines masonų veiklos ir ideologinės orientacijos gaires vykstančių diskusijų dėl laisvųjų mūrininkų misijos ir reformų (Jokūbo Šimkevičiaus ir K. Kontrimo projektas) kontekste. Nustatyta, kad masonai, 1821 m. pradėti persekioti imperatoriaus Aleksandro I administracijos, Vilniaus universiteto bibliotekai dviem etapais (1824 m. vasario 20 d. ir gegužės 7 d.) perdavė 26 pavadinimų knygas – iš viso 28 vienetus. Dar trys masonų knygos, naudotos rengiantis ritualiniams darbams, identifikuotos remiantis kitais šaltiniais. Dauguma knygų skirtos masonų teisėkūrai, ritualams, istorijai. Buvo kaupiama lektūra prancūzų, vokiečių, lenkų, lotynų, rusų kalbomis. Didesnė masonų knygų dalis po universiteto uždarymo buvo išvežta į Kijevą, o XX a. viduryje prof. Levo Vladimirovo pastangomis sugrąžinta į Vilniaus universiteto bibliotekos saugyklas.

This article is an attempt to interpet a work by Vladimir Nabokov, Invitation to a Beheading, with the most important determinants of Masonic culture. There are few studies that discuss this outstanding prose writer in terms of freemasonry and the author of this article discusses this issue with particular attention to the symbolism of the Masonic initiation ritual.

The purpose of the article is to study the history of one of the little-known Masonic organizations - the Swe-dish Rite of Freemasonry. A significant part of the work is devoted to the Swedish system development in Russia and the ties between Russian and Swedish Freemasonry. The author pays attention to the specific nature of the Swedish ritual, which differs in many respects from traditional Freemasonry. These con-cerns, first of all, the legend about the origin of Swe-dish Freemasonry from the medieval Knights Templar order. Based on this legend, the analysis of the hierarchy of Swedish ritual degrees is given and their inter-nal content is revealed. This article can become the basis for a great scientific research of the Swedish Masonic system and the peculiarities of its existence in various European countries.

This article is informed by recent work by the author unearthing the histories of Native American Indian Freemasons from the Revolutionary era to the present. Given that performed ritual has always been key to Masonic practice, it was initially supposed that Indian performance within Masonry could be explained using the same performative analytical lens that has recently been applied to various other aspects of the American and American Indian past. However, this research reveals that the performance paradigm has important limitations when applied in colonial or postcolonial contexts and that these have a particular significance when we evaluate the Native American fraternal experience of Freemasonry. This article explores the specifics of recent “performative” analyses and argues that whilst performance offers potentially revealing and enabling new means of comprehending Indian and non-Indian interaction, it also carries with it risks against which we must remain vigilant. It argues that the performance paradigm is useful only to the extent to which it can differentiate between positive cultural interaction and negative cultural appropriation. It concludes by suggesting that it is only when we conceive of culture as being essentially imaginative that performance as an analytical paradigm fully functions.

O presente artigo mostra que existiu uma sólida estrutura religiosa financiadora da empreitada maçônica nos diversos locais que a mesma teve acesso e que o êxito desse empreendimento só foi possível pela alta carga de capital religioso presente na estrutura da maçonaria; a constituição Maçônica de 1723, os ritos de passagem e as muitas cosmogonias presentes nas antigas obrigações maçônicas, ajudaram no desenvolvimento da ordem elevando a mesma a uma missão de caráter transcendental. Em 1865 quando se tentou laicizar a maçonaria retirando do ritual a invocação do Grande Arquiteto do Universo, verificou-se através da mudança do rito moderno francês que a base religiosa brasileira era muito mais forte e se impôs à Ordem. O estatuto maçônico através de sua herança religiosa dialogou profundamente com os preceitos da estrutura social que lhe deu aporte no século XIX, fornecendo uma forte base que serviu de alicerce para fundamentação de suas convicções. The present article shows that there was a solid religious structure that financed the Masonic enterprise in the various places that it had access and that the success of this enterprise was only possible due to the high load of religious capital present in the structure of Freemasonry; the Masonic constitution of 1723, the rites of passage and the many cosmogonies present in the old Masonic obligations, helped in the development of the order, elevating it to a mission of transcendental character. In 1865, when it was tried to lay Freemasonry by removing from the ritual the invocation of the Great Architect of the Universe, it was verified through the change of the modern French rite that the Brazilian religious base was very strong imposing itself before the Order. The Masonic statute through its religious inheritance deeply dialogue with the precepts of the social structure that gave him support in the nineteenth century, providing a strong foundation that served as a foundation for the foundation of his convictions..

Patterns of use of ceramic objects and masonry architecture at Chaco Canyon in the southwestern United States indicate refurbishing of some vessels and architectural forms. Ceramic cylinder jars show evidence for obliteration of earlier designs and subsequent repainting and refiring of new designs. Communal structures, or kivas, were dismantled and rebuilt. Three possible explanations for these patterns are explored: revision of errors, restoration of worn surfaces, or ritual renewal. Renewal appears the most likely explanation for most of the patterning seen, providing a fuller picture of Chacoan ritual life and beliefs. Implications for research in the Chaco area and greater Southwest are discussed.

The monumental architecture of Chaco Canyon, New Mexico was constructed to convey, reinforce, and challenge ideas about social, ritual, and cosmological order. The concept of social memory can help clarify how architecture was employed in the transformation of Chacoan society at the beginning of the Late Bonito phase (A.D. 1100–1140). During the preceding century, Classic Bonito phase architecture expressed basic tenets of a Chacoan worldview—directionality, balanced dualism, and the canyon as a center place. At the beginning of the Late Bonito phase, confidence in the Chacoan ritual order was shaken by environmental and social developments. Leaders sought to re-formalize Chaco as a center place by instituting a new building scheme. Six new great houses were positioned on the landscape in a patterned, nested series of oppositional relationships. This re-formalization of the Chacoan landscape was legitimated through direct alignments and indirect architectural references to the Classic Bonito past. The new buildings were meant to bolster confidence in leaders and to attract followers by offering a combination of the familiar and the novel.

This article analyses the relations between the União do Vegetal (UDV) and other religious traditions. Narratives provided by early members and biographical details of the founder of the UDV since his childhood, reveal the presence of elements within the cosmology and rituals of this religion that are originated in various sources. These span from popular Catholicism, Allan Kardec's Spiritism, Masonry, Jewish tradition, and Afro-Brazilian religions, to popular Amazonian beliefs. The text shows how the combination of aspects of these different traditions is important in the constitution of the new religious system of the União do Vegetal. The article situates this ayahuasca religion within the field of Brazilian religiosity, indicating, for instance, parallels in its formative process with the history of other religions, such as Umbanda. The article also highlights relationships between elements of the mythology, doctrine and rituals of the União do Vegetal and the Amazonian context linked to the use of ayahuasca.

On account of its composition and relative completeness, the Skelmorlie Aisle in Largs is the most impressive structure of its type and period in the country. This article considers the aisle and its components, its structure and setting, as well as its history as far as the twentieth century, arguing that it was conceived as a single entity and that its purpose was connected with funeral ritual. It had a processional layout rarely seen in seventeenth-century Scotland, hinging on the triumphal arch inside, used here not for the living hero but for the deceased on their passage to life after death. The structure involved some of the top craftsmen associated with courtier works of the period and its composition was fundamentally shaped by masonic symbolism and proportion. There is also the tentative suggestion that the aisle signalled the covert Catholicism of a client who was outwardly Presbyterian.

On June 27, 1777, the Reverend William Dodd, “the Macaroni Parson,” Master of Arts and Doctor of Laws in the University of Cambridge; first Grand Chaplain of Modern English Freemasonry and sometime Chaplain-in-Ordinary to His Majesty; Chaplain of Magdalen House, a “Public Place of Reception for Penitent Prostitutes”; proprietor of the Charlotte Street Chapel, and a principal instigator of such other charities as the Society for the Release of Debtors and the Humane Society for the Resuscitation of the Apparently Drowned, was hanged at Tyburn for forging the signature of his patron and former pupil, Philip Stanhope, fifth earl of Chesterfield, on a bond for £4,200. Dodd's story, culminating in his trial, condemnation, and execution, despite massive efforts to procure a mitigation of the law's severity, survives best in the literary history and biography of the period. On the other hand, historians, whether political, social, or cultural, have had little or nothing to say about his predicament and suffering except as either the deserved nemesis of a swindler or an early cause celebre in the raising of public concern about the state of the criminal law. The probable reason for this neglect is that, for all the sentimental frisson which it aroused, Dodd's case was a middle-class melodrama which lacked plebeian dimension and appeal.

ABSTRACTAs lidar becomes a regular part of surveying, ground-based platforms (handheld, mobile, and terrestrial lidar) and airborne platforms (piloted aircraft) are being joined by unpiloted aerial vehicle (UAV)–acquired lidar. We present a method for leveraging UAV-acquired lidar data with data collected using different lidar platforms (terrestrial and piloted aircraft), at a range of resolutions (1 to +1,000 points per m2) and geographic scales. We use these instruments to document a dry-masonry stone wall enclosing a religious precinct within the royal center at Kealakekua, Kona District, Hawai'i Island. Prior to European contact in AD 1779, Kealakekua was the center of the island-wide polity during the annual Makahiki festival. Results of this study suggest that when the wall was constructed around AD 1640, it was the largest structure ever built on the island of Hawai'i as well as a strong material expression of the power of state religion and the Makahiki rituals.

Sanitation and hygiene technologies have existed in ancient Hellas since the Bronze Age (ca. 3200–1100 bc), when extensive sewerage and drainage and other elaborate sanitary structures were known in Minoan palaces and towns. Classical and Hellenistic periods should be considered as the most progressive eras in the design of sanitary engineering. At that time anatomically shaped toilet seats are found in several sites since many private houses and public buildings have them. As cities grew in size the pressure of larger populations resulted in the construction of communal toilets with seats that were more densely packed together. Drainage and sewerage systems and sanitary installations reflect high cultural and technological levels and they are associated with contemporary observations and ideas about hygiene and medicine. Before the Hellenic advances, medicine was entirely confined to religious beliefs and metaphysical rituals. In the early Roman period, the knowledge of the ancient world on hygienic matter was incorporated in legislative rules. Despite the weakening of this legislation through the ages, the sanitation practices kept being applied even via a technical tradition of the masons. Later various rulers of the Hellenic world (Europeans or Ottomans), introduced their practices (traditional/scientific) sanitation in the greater Helladic regions.

[First paragraph]Living Santería: Rituals and Experiences in an Afro-Cuban Religion. MICHAEL ATWOOD MASON. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2002. ix + 165 pp. (Paper US$ 16.95)Divine Utterances: The Performance of Afro-Cuban Santería. KATHERINE J. HAGEDORN. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2001. xvi + 296 pp. (Cloth US$ 40.00)The Light Inside: Abakuá Society Arts and Cuban Cultural History. DAVID H. BROWN. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2003. xix + 286 pp. (Cloth US$ 44.23)Santería Enthroned: Art, Ritual, and Innovation in an Afro-Cuban Religion. DAVID H. BROWN. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2003. xx + 413 pp. (Paper US$ 38.00)Ethnographic objects behave in curious ways. Although they clearly are “our constructions,” field sites and even topically circumscribed (rather than spatially delimited) ethnographic problems lead double lives: places and problems change not merely because they factually undergo historical changes, but because researchers come to them from historically no less changeable epistemic vantage points. One can imagine generational cohorts of ethnographers marching across the same geographically or thematically defined terrain and seeing different things – not just because of substantial changes that have factually occurred, but because they have come to ask different questions. The process obviously has its dialectical moments. The figures we inscribe in writing from fleeting observations (based on changing theoretical conceptions) are no less subject to history than the empirical grounds from which our discursive efforts call them forth. The result is a curious imbrication of partially autonomous, but also partly overlapping, historicities of lives and texts which, at times, are more difficult to keep apart than it would seem at first glance. At least in the study of Afro-Cuban religious culture, the two practical and discursive fields – one circumscribed by the practical, but perhaps misleading label “Afro-Cuban religion,”1 and the other designated by whatever term one might like to affix to the study of it – cannot be easily separated: much as in the Brazilian case (Braga 1995, Capone 1999, Matory 1999, 2001), practitioners of Afro-Cuban religions and their ethnographers have engaged each other in a dialogue since at least the second decade of the twentieth century. That it took us so long to understand this fact has much to do with the way both “Afro-Cuban religion” and “Afro-Cuban ethnography” originally (and lastingly) became discursively objectified: the former largely under the sign of a search for “authentically African” elements in New World cultural practices, the second as an instrument for “verifying” (and thereby authorizing) such “Africanisms” (Scott 1991).

[First paragraph]Living Santería: Rituals and Experiences in an Afro-Cuban Religion. MICHAEL ATWOOD MASON. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2002. ix + 165 pp. (Paper US$ 16.95)Divine Utterances: The Performance of Afro-Cuban Santería. KATHERINE J. HAGEDORN. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2001. xvi + 296 pp. (Cloth US$ 40.00)The Light Inside: Abakuá Society Arts and Cuban Cultural History. DAVID H. BROWN. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2003. xix + 286 pp. (Cloth US$ 44.23)Santería Enthroned: Art, Ritual, and Innovation in an Afro-Cuban Religion. DAVID H. BROWN. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2003. xx + 413 pp. (Paper US$ 38.00)Ethnographic objects behave in curious ways. Although they clearly are “our constructions,” field sites and even topically circumscribed (rather than spatially delimited) ethnographic problems lead double lives: places and problems change not merely because they factually undergo historical changes, but because researchers come to them from historically no less changeable epistemic vantage points. One can imagine generational cohorts of ethnographers marching across the same geographically or thematically defined terrain and seeing different things – not just because of substantial changes that have factually occurred, but because they have come to ask different questions. The process obviously has its dialectical moments. The figures we inscribe in writing from fleeting observations (based on changing theoretical conceptions) are no less subject to history than the empirical grounds from which our discursive efforts call them forth. The result is a curious imbrication of partially autonomous, but also partly overlapping, historicities of lives and texts which, at times, are more difficult to keep apart than it would seem at first glance. At least in the study of Afro-Cuban religious culture, the two practical and discursive fields – one circumscribed by the practical, but perhaps misleading label “Afro-Cuban religion,”1 and the other designated by whatever term one might like to affix to the study of it – cannot be easily separated: much as in the Brazilian case (Braga 1995, Capone 1999, Matory 1999, 2001), practitioners of Afro-Cuban religions and their ethnographers have engaged each other in a dialogue since at least the second decade of the twentieth century. That it took us so long to understand this fact has much to do with the way both “Afro-Cuban religion” and “Afro-Cuban ethnography” originally (and lastingly) became discursively objectified: the former largely under the sign of a search for “authentically African” elements in New World cultural practices, the second as an instrument for “verifying” (and thereby authorizing) such “Africanisms” (Scott 1991).

Abstract. The presence of ancient Maya shrines in caves serves as unequivocal evidence for the ritual appropriation of these subterranean spaces and their significance with respect to Maya religious practice. Detailed study of the miniature masonry temples and altar features in the caves of Quintana Roo, Mexico reveals a strong stylistic and likely functional correspondence between these structures and their terrestrial counterparts at Postclassic sites. The Proyecto Arquitectura Subterranea de Quintana Roo (coordinated by the Center of Interdisciplinary Science for Art, Architecture, and Archaeology, or CISA3, at the University of California, San Diego and in collaboration with the Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia in Mexico) is conducting a survey and program of digital documentation of both the pristine and impacted cave shrines of the region. Once an area is developed and populated, and access is opened to caves containing ancient architectural features, they are soon vandalized – often resulting in the complete obliteration of these rare miniature buildings and their diagnostic architectural elements. This emergent situation necessitates the use of rapid reality-capture tools; however, the physical challenges of working in caves requires researchers of adapt increasingly common architectural documentation methodologies to more adverse field conditions.

Astrologers in Madagascar, in West Bezanozano in particular, play a very important role in building the fundaments of the land of extended families (they give the destiny of the family). They are also invited by individuals or families to lay the foundations of village, house, tomb, or memory stones for the dead, and last but not least to lead the famadihana, a ritual for the dead making them ancestors. This chapter follows the practices of astrologers in making the fundaments of villages, houses and tombs. Making fundaments is making as it were a living horoscope, giving places a suitable destiny in relation to the surroundings and the people concerned. I also followed an astrologer/mason who was in charge of crafting a particular memory stone. The memory stone had to deviate from a direct line between village and tomb caused by a mistake in the tomb building having killed two astrologers in their work. Finally, I presented the central importance of the astrologer during the ritual of the famadihana where the destinies of the dead and the living have to be mediated to protect the living from the dead. General speaking, a good astrologer will never become rich, since he has to hold not only good destinies but also bad ones. The work of an astrologer can be extremely dangerous since he deals with real forces. During difficult assignments, people offer him a cock that accompanies him during work since people believe that the cock will die before any human, also an astrologer.

Jan J. Boersema, Beelden van Paaseiland: Over de duurzaamheid van een cultuur (H.J.M. Claessen) Henri Chambert-Loir (ed.), Sadur: Sejarah terjemahan di Indonesia dan Malaysia (E.P. Wieringa) Andrée Feillard and Rémy Madinier, The end of innocence? Indonesian Islam and the temptations of radicalism (Andy Fuller) Andrew Goss, The floracrats: State-sponsored science and the failure of Enlightenment in Indonesia (Andreas Weber) Rachel V. Harrison and Peter A. Jackson (eds), The ambiguous allure of the West: Traces of the colonial in Thailand (Luuk Knippenberg) Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and I Wayan Ardika (eds), Burials, texts and rituals: Ethnoarchaeological investigations in North Bali, Indonesia (Thomas Reuter) Carolyn Hughes, Dependent communities: Aid and politics in Cambodia and East Timor (Helene Van Klinken) J.A. de Moor, Generaal Spoor: Triomf en tragiek van een legercommandant (Harry A. Poeze) Peter J. Rimmer and Howard Dick, The city in Southeast Asia: Patterns, processes and policy (Sheri Lynn Gibbings) Knut M. Rio and Olaf H. Smedal (eds), Hierarchy: Persistence and transformation in social formations (Toon van Meijl) Henry Spiller, Erotic triangles: Sundanese dance and masculinity in West Java (Paul H. Mason) Rupert Stasch, Society of others: Kinship and mourning in a West Papuan place (Anton Ploeg) Susanto Zuhdi, Sejarah Buton yang terabaikan: Labu rope labu wana (Muhammad Fuad) Terutomo Ozawa, The rise of Asia: The ‘flying geese’ theory of tandem growth and regional agglomeration (Mark Beeson) Uka Tjandrasasmita, Arkeologi Islam Nusantara (Hélène Njoto)

-Michael D. Olien, Edmund T. Gordon, Disparate Diasporas: Identity and politics in an African-Nicaraguan community.Austin: University of Texas Press, 1998. xiv + 330 pp.-Donald Cosentino, Margarite Fernández Olmos ,Sacred possessions: Vodou, Santería, Obeah, and the Caribbean. New Brunswick NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1997. viii + 312 pp., Lizabeth Paravisini-Gebert (eds)-John P. Homiak, Lorna McDaniel, The big drum ritual of Carriacou: Praisesongs in rememory of flight. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1998. xiv + 198 pp.-Julian Gerstin, Gerdès Fleurant, Dancing spirits: Rhythms and rituals of Haitian Vodun, the Rada Rite. Westport CT: Greenwood, 1996. xvi + 240 pp.-Rose-Marie Chierici, Alex Stepick, Pride against Prejudice: Haitians in the United States. Boston: Allyn & Bacon, 1998. x + 134 pp.-Rose-Marie Chierici, Flore Zéphir, Haitian immigrants in Black America: A sociological and sociolinguistic portrait. Westport CT: Bergin & Garvey, 1996. xvi + 180 pp.-Luis Martínez-Fernández, Rosalie Schwartz, Pleasure Island: Tourism and temptation in Cuba. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1997. xxiv + 239 pp.-Jorge L. Giovannetti, My footsteps in Baraguá. Script and direction by Gloria Rolando. VHS, 53 minutes. Havana: Mundo Latino, 1996.-Gert Oostindie, Mona Rosendahl, Inside the revolution: Everyday life in socialist Cuba. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1997. x + 194 pp.-Frank Argote-Freyre, Lisa Brock ,Between race and empire: African-Americans and Cubans before the Cuban revolution. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1998. xii + 298 pp., Digna Castañeda Fuertes (eds)-José E. Cruz, Frances Negrón-Muntaner ,Puerto Rican Jam: Rethinking colonialism and nationalism. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997. x + 303 pp., Ramón Grosfoguel (eds)-Helen I. Safa, Félix V. Matos Rodríguez ,Puerto Rican Women's history: New perspectives. Armonk NY: M.E. Sharpe, 1998. x + 262 pp., Linda C. Delgado (eds)-Arlene Torres, Jean P. Peterman, Telling their stories: Puerto Rican Women and abortion. Boulder CO: Westview Press, 1996. ix + 112 pp.-Trevor W. Purcell, Philip Sherlock ,The story of the Jamaican People. Kingston: Ian Randle; Princeton: Markus Wiener, 1998. xii + 434 pp., Hazel Bennett (eds)-Howard Fergus, Donald Harman Akenson, If the Irish ran the world: Montserrat, 1630-1730. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1997. xii + 273 pp.-John S. Brierley, Lawrence S. Grossman, The political ecology of bananas: Contract farming, peasants, and agrarian change in the Eastern Caribbean. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1998. xx + 268 pp.-Mindie Lazarus-Black, Jeannine M. Purdy, Common law and colonised peoples: Studies in Trinidad and Western Australia. Aldershot, UK: Ashgate Dartmouth, 1997. xii + 309.-Stephen Slemon, Barbara Lalla, Defining Jamaican fiction: Marronage and the discourse of survival. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1996. xi + 224 pp.-Stephen Slemon, Renu Juneja, Caribbean transactions: West Indian culture in literature.-Sue N. Greene, Richard F. Patteson, Caribbean Passages: A critical perspective on new fiction from the West Indies. Boulder CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1998. ix + 187 pp.-Harold Munneke, Ivelaw L. Griffith ,Democracy and human rights in the Caribbean. Boulder CO: Westview Press, 1997. vii + 278 pp., Betty N. Sedoc-Dahlberg (eds)-Francisco E. Thoumi, Ivelaw Lloyd Griffith, Drugs and security in the Caribbean: Sovereignty under seige. University Park: Penn State University Press, 1997. xx + 295 pp.-Michiel Baud, Eric Paul Roorda, The dictator next door: The good neighbor policy and the Trujillo regime in the Dominican republic, 1930-1945. Durham NC: Duke University Press, 1998. xii + 337 pp.-Peter Mason, Wim Klooster, The Dutch in the Americas 1600-1800. Providence RI: The John Carter Brown Library, 1997. xviii + 101 pp.-David R. Watters, Aad H. Versteeg ,The archaeology of Aruba: The Tanki Flip site. Oranjestad; Archaeological Museum Aruba, 1997. 518 pp., Stéphen Rostain (eds)

AbstractDespite the proliferation of interest in the subjects of secrecy and esotericism throughout popular culture, media and entertainment, these phenomena have only recently begun to be treated seriously by historians of religions. In this essay, I suggest a new way of looking at esotericism by engaging in a comparative, cross-cultural analysis, and by looking in particular at its social and political implications. Specifically, I compare two traditions — the Srīvidyā school of Indian Tantra, and the Rectified Scottish Rite of French Freemasonry — juxtaposing and analogically relating them in order to shed new light on both. Contrary to many popular conceptions, I argue that esotericism is by no means primarily a “counter-cultural” or “subversive” phenomenon; rather, it is very often an elitist phenomenon, the province of highly educated, affluent and powerful intellectuals, who wish, not to undermine existing social structures, but rather subtly to reinforce them, or else to bend and reshape them according to their own interests. This essay examines three primary strategies employed by the Tantrics and Masons: 1) the creation of a new social space or private sphere, which promises “equality” and liberation for all classes, while at the same time constructing new and more rigid hierarchies; 2) a hermeneutical strategy, which appropriates the authority of traditional scriptures, while at the same time asserting the superiority of esoteric exegesis; 3) a ritual strategy, which creates a homology between the body of the initiate, the hierarchy of the cosmos and the hierarchy of the esoteric sect, inscribing the individual into the body of the order, and inscribing the order onto the human body.

AbstractIn the study I tried to reconstruct the history of the Jewish community of Tállya and their synagogue, for up to now neither the community, nor the art historically important Torah ark has received due attention. After the Holocaust very few survivors came back to Tállya – a settlement in Tokaj-Hegyalja, a region of north-eastern Hungary – and not a single member of the former Orthodox congregation lives there today. The community built their third place of worship in the mid-nineteenth century, pulled down in 1964. The reasons why I found it important to map the socio-cultural and religious environment in more detail are commemorative and research methodological. The Israelite community enjoyed autonomy in choosing their rabbi and arranging all other domestic matters, and consequently, their taste, religious orientation, acculturation influenced the shaping of their synagogue building, the style of its furnishing and ritual objects. For lack of congregational documents, many kinds of sources (e.g. newspaper articles, recollections, biographies of rabbis, municipal documents) had to be interpreted within the context offered by the historical elaborations of the age. It was indispensable to shed light on the system of relations between Hasidism of growing influence from the early nineteenth century and traditional Orthodoxy, particularly because the tendencies of secession also appeared in the Tállya community, and the iconography of the Torah ark of their synagogue is most closely related to the carved Torah arks of East European Hasidic communities (in Poland, Galicia, Moldavia, etc.). According to archival sources the community leaders of Tállya could assert their wish to have the woodcarver create symbolic motifs on the ark despite the rabbi’s disapproval. As the direct antecedent to the composition I identified the masonry Torah ark of Mád, but the inventive, singular style of the carvings bears no kinship with the mentioned prototypes or the altars in churches in the vicinity. At the end of the paper I sum up the events that led to the demolition of the synagogue and the perishing of its interior furniture, relying on documents in the Hungarian Jewish Museum and the Monument Documentation Centre.

-Doris Jedamski, René Witte, De Indische radio-omroep; Overheidsbeleid en ontwikkeling, 1923-1942. Hilversum: Verloren, 1998, 202 pp. -Edwin Jurriëns, Philip Kitley, Television, nation, and culture in Indonesia. Athens, Ohio: Ohio University Center for International Studies, 2000, xviii + 411 pp. [Research in International Studies, Southeast Asia Series 104.] -Gerrit Knaap, Scott Merrillees, Batavia in nineteenth century photographs. Richmond, Surrey: Curzon, 2000, 282 pp. -C.C. MacKnight, David Bulbeck ,Land of iron; The historical archaelogy of Luwu and the Cenrana valley; Results of the Origin of Complex Society in South Sulawesi Project (OXIS). Hull and Canberra: Centre for South-East Asian Studies, University of Hull / School of Archaeology and Anthropology, Australian National University, 2000, vi + 141 pp., Ian Caldwell (eds) -Niels Mulder, Toh Goda, Political culture and ethnicity; An anthropological study in Southeast Asia. Quezon City: New Day, 1999, xviii + 182 pp. -Niels Mulder, Norman G. Owen, The Bikol blend; Bikolanos and their history. Quezon City: New Day, 1999, x + 291 pp. -Anton Ploeg, Donald Tuzin, Social complexity in the making; A case study among the Arapesh of New Guinea. London: Routledge, 2001, xii + 159 pp. -Henk Schulte-Nordholt, Maarten Kuitenbrouwer, Tussen oriëntalisme en wetenschap; Het Koninklijk Instituut voor Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde in historisch verband 1851-2001. Leiden: KITLV Uitgeverij, 2001, ix + 362 pp. -Sri Margana, Peter Carey ,The archive of Yogyakarta, Volume II, Documents relating to economic and agrarian affairs. New York: Oxford University Press, 2000, 566 pp., Mason C. Hoadley (eds) -Eric Venbrux, Wilfried van Damme, Bijdragen over kunst en cultuur in Oceanië/Studies in Oceanic Art and Culture. Gent: Academia Press, 2000, 122 pp. -Edwin Wieringa, Raharjo Suwandi, A quest for justice; The millenary aspirations of a contemporary Javanese wali. Leiden: KITLV Press, 2000, x + 229 pp. [Verhandelingen van het Koninklijk Instituut voor Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 182.] -Willem G. Wolters, Benito J. Legarda Jr., After the galleons; Foreign trade, economic change and entrepreneurship in the nineteenth-century Philippines. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1999, xiv + 401 pp. -Brenda Yeoh, Jürgen Rüland, The dynamics of metropolitan management in Southeast Asia. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 1996, 230 pp. -David Henley, Albert Schrauwers, Colonial 'reformation' in the highlands of Central Sulawesi, Indonesia, 1892-1995. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000, xiv + 279 pp. -David Henley, Lorraine V. Aragon, Fields of the Lord; Animism, Christian minorities, and state development in Indonesia. Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press, 2000, xii + 383 pp. -Jennifer W. Nourse, Jennifer W. Nourse, Conceiving spirits; Birth rituals and contested identities among Laujé of Indonesia. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1999, xii + 308 pp.

Since September 11, American Muslim identities, political views, sensi- bilities, and even private lives have been studied by academics, pollsters, government agencies, and think tank researchers. This renewed interest on the nexus of religious and national identity has produced a vast volume of publications, cross-cutting each social science discipline and thematic re- search area. Some are even available online, such as #islamophobiaisracism syllabus, #BlackIslamSyllabus and ISPU’s Muslim American Experience Bibliography page. What is often lost in this conversation, however, are the nuances that influence everyday lives of American Muslims and their practice of Islam. Situated within religious studies and Islamic studies scholarship and speak- ing to a broad disciplinary array, the edited volume The Practice of Islam in America: An Introduction is a much-needed contribution to the scholarship on Islam and American Muslims. The book’s editor, prolific and prominent scholar and historian of Is- lam in America, Edward Curtis IV, explains the goals of the book in this sentence: “This book is driven by the desire to provide clear answers to es- sential, and basic, questions about how observant Muslim Americans prac- tice Islam…” (2). Importantly, the book delivers on its promise to provide a lived religion perspective (3). While the twelve chapters in The Practice of Islam in America examine distinct practices and themes, the chapters synergize in giving voice to a lived religion perspective on American Muslims’ practices. This approach helps the reader to achieve a healthy distance from the significant but often overly dominant political context that influences discourse on American Muslim life. The book opens with an introductory chapter by Curtis, explaining the rationale and background to the project. The chapter is a good prelude to this rich volume, reflecting Curtis’ years of experience working on Muslim American history and experience. For the non-specialist audience, the in- troductory chapter also provides a broad historical overview of American Muslim history, starting from the slave trade and stretching into contem- porary Islamophobia while covering debates within the diverse American Muslim community. The volume is organized across four thematic parts. Each part includes three chapters, producing a rich, twelve-chapter account. Part I examines prayer and pilgrimage and includes chapters on ṣalāt, dhikr, and ḥajj. Part II explores holidays; individual chapters cover Ramadan and Eid celebra- tions, Ashura, and Milad/Mawlid celebrations. Part III takes the reader into the realm of life cycle rituals with chapters on birth, wedding, and funeral/ death rituals. The concluding Part IV touches on Islamic ethics and reli- gious culture. It examines philanthropy, food practices and engagements with the Qur’an with reference to everyday practices of American Muslims. Curtis explains in his introduction that the volume is intentional in de- veloping a lived religion focus. Moreover, almost all authors give examples for how these practices vary in different branches of Islam (Sunni, Twelver and Isma‘ili/Bohra Shi‘i communities) as well as for multiple ethno-racial demographic groups that make up the deeply pluralistic Muslim American fabric. Contributors should be applauded for producing chapters that are ethnographically rich, thematically diverse, and attentive to multiple sites and dynamics. Chapter 1 moves through multiple vignettes that involve ṣalāt, the Muslim ritual prayer. Rose Aslan’s vivid descriptions of the lives of Ameri- can Muslims and her ability to walk the reader along not only the basics of the prayer but also the nuances among individuals with diverse ethno-racial and socioeconomic backgrounds and the post-September 11 securitization of ṣalāt is refreshing. Rosemary R. Corbett’s chapter on dhikr—“medita- tive and sometimes joyous religious litanies,” to use the definition offered by Curtis in the introductory chapter (6)—is a comparative study of three related groups, each springing from the Turkish Halveti Cerrahi order. The historical account around the creation of these groups is helpful especially because one of these figures, Tosun Bayrak of the Spring Valley Halveti Cerrahi order, recently passed away. In the next chapter, Hussein Rashid skillfully walks the reader through the meaning, rites, and politico-eco- nomic realities surrounding ḥajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca in Saudia Arabia. His chapter helps to familiarize the readers with complexities of ḥajj. Part II of the book begins with Jackleen Salem’s nuanced and vivid account of Ramadan, Eid al-Fitr, and Eid al-Adha. In testament to the volume’s attention to inclusivity, Michael Muhammad Knight’s chapter on Ashura is a vivid and informative account of this most popular Shi‘i commemoration. This chapter is less ethnographically driven than other chapters preceding it, perhaps to the advantage of the common reader who learns a great deal about early Muslim history and the background to the Sunni-Shi‘i split. The same is true also for Marcia Hermansen’s chapter on Milad/Mawlid celebrations recognizing Prophet Muhammad’s birth. The chapter strikes a balance between academic information on the subject and a thick description of these ceremonies. She provides a superb account of major debates and disagreements within the Muslim community sur- rounding these celebrations for the benefit of the uninitiated reader. In the first chapter of Part III, Maria Curtis explores birth rituals ranging from baby-showers to naming a child to postpartum complexities faced by moms within the American Muslim community. Her chapter is noteworthy in producing a much-needed addition to these underexplored topics. Juliane Hammer’s chapter on weddings is an exploration of not only ceremonial aspects of marriage but also legal approaches to marriage in America through a rich ethnographic account of three distinct weddings. She gives due attention to textual and Qur’anic interpretations on love and mercy by American Muslims. Her chapter is among those that provide the common reader with a nuanced view of the scholarship on the theme that is under exploration. The same is true for Amir Hussain’s chapter on Muslim funerals. Speaking from within a few funeral processions in southern Cali- fornia, as well as a brief description of the funeral ceremony of Muhammad Ali, Hussain explores the rites of death and burial in the American Muslim landscape.The first chapter of Part IV, by Danielle Witman Abraham, examines philanthropy and social giving in the American Muslim community. The chapter explains the norms in Sunii and Shi‘i communities, including concerns about domestic vs. international giving. Chapter 11, by Magfirat Dahlan, delves into American Muslims’ food consumption choices. She explores the fluid categories of permissible and impermissible food as well as ethical vs. non-ethical food as perceived by her respondents. The final chapter of the book is by Mona Ali and focuses on the Qur’an and how American Muslims engage with Islam’s holy book. Her approach provides a concise and effective summary of the Qur’an’s role in life cycles, identity formation and internal conversations among American Muslims. While the individual chapters’ focus on specific contexts and ethno- graphic accounts is very helpful, some chapters leave the reader with a sense of incompleteness due to the brief attempt to cram information on the broader context in the last two pages of each chapter. For example, in Chapter 1, Rose Aslan invokes the American Muslim debate around cre- ating gender equity in mosques and the third space wave but cannot do justice to the multifaceted conversations and developments around this issue. Chapter 4 by Jackleen Salem also suffers from trying to deliver too much. Salem’s concluding section, “Eid as an American Holiday,” fails to mention the heated debates that defined the “White House Iftar” dinners during President Obama’s presidency. These kinds of omissions create a kind of wedge between the complexities that arise in the everyday practice of Islam and the volume’s broader reflections. Chapter 9, by Amir Hussain, details Muhammad Ali’s funeral but does not fully engage with the debates and choices that marked the funeral. One wonders too if inclusion of other dhikr practices adapted by American Muslim followers of the Tijaniyya or the Ba‘Alawi sufi networks could have been helpful to give voice to dhikr practice in Chapter 2, out- side the Halveti Jerrahi context. Another theme that is neglected lies in the chapter on philanthropy, which does not mention what are often heated debates within American Muslim communities on the jurisprudence (fiqh) of giving to non-Muslims as well as whether certain service organizations (such as those serving students or social justice needs) are zakāt-eligible.There are practices that are left out as well. Du‘a Kumayl, practiced by Shi‘i Muslims on Thursday evenings similar to mawlid ceremonies, is not mentioned in the text. It would have been enriching to include this practice of reading a prayer that is traced to Prophet Muhammad’s cousin and one of the four great caliphs, Imam Ali. Finally, the choice to not cite online resources with their full web ad- dresses seems like an odd choice for a volume this rich in content. The lack of a full pathway in many instances makes it difficult for researchers to access information. These slight omissions notwithstanding, The Practice of Islam in Amer- ica: An Introduction is a great resource for instructors to use in introducto- ry courses in religious studies and American Muslim studies programs, as well as a good supplementary text for anyone teaching Islam in interfaith contexts. It delivers on its promise to provide rich narratives on what Is- lam looks like as a lived religion in America. It is highly relevant for those teaching not only on Islam but also on religion generally. The editor as well as the authors deserve recognition for producing a nuanced and insightful volume. Ahmet Selim TekeliogluAli Vural Ak Center for Global Islamic StudiesGeorge Mason University

Michele Stephen; Desire, divine and demonic; Balinese mysticism in the paintings of I Ketut Budiana and I Gusti Nyoman Mirdiana (Andrea Acri) John Lynch (ed.); Issues in Austronesian historical phonology (Alexander Adelaar) Alfred W. McCoy; The politics of heroin; CIA complicity in the global drug trade (Greg Bankoff) Anthony Reid; An Indonesian frontier; Acehnese and other histories of Sumatra (Timothy P. Barnard) John G. Butcher; The closing of the frontier; A history of the maritime fisheries of Southeast Asia c. 1850-2000 (Peter Boomgaard) Francis Loh Kok Wah, Joakim Öjendal (eds); Southeast Asian responses to globalization; Restructuring governance and deepening democracy (Alexander Claver) I Wayan Arka; Balinese morpho-syntax: a lexical-functional approach (Adrian Clynes) Zaharani Ahmad; The phonology-morphology interface in Malay; An optimality theoretic account (Abigail C. Cohn) Michael C. Ewing; Grammar and inference in conversation; Identifying clause structure in spoken Javanese (Aone van Engelenhoven) Helen Creese; Women of the kakawin world; Marriage and sexuality in the Indic courts of Java and Bali (Amrit Gomperts) Ming Govaars; Dutch colonial education; The Chinese experience in Indonesia, 1900-1942 (Kees Groeneboer) Ernst van Veen, Leonard Blussé (eds); Rivalry and conflict; European traders and Asian trading networks in the 16th and 17th centuries (Hans Hägerdal) Holger Jebens; Pathways to heaven; Contesting mainline and fundamentalist Christianity in Papua New Guinea (Menno Hekker) Ota Atsushi; Changes of regime and social dynamics in West Java; Society, state and the outer world of Banten, 1750-1830 (Mason C. Hoadley) Richard McMillan; The British occupation of Indonesia 1945-1946; Britain, the Netherlands and the Indonesian Revolution (Russell Jones) H.Th. Bussemaker; Bersiap! Opstand in het paradijs; De Bersiapperiode op Java en Sumatra 1945-1946 (Russell Jones) Michael Heppell; Limbang anak Melaka and Enyan anak Usen, Iban art; Sexual selection and severed heads: weaving, sculpture, tattooing and other arts of the Iban of Borneo (Viktor T. King) John Roosa; Pretext for mass murder; The September 30th Movement and Suharto’s coup d’état in Indonesia (Gerry van Klinken) Vladimir Braginsky; The heritage of traditional Malay literature; A historical survey of genres, writings and literary views (Dick van der Meij) Joel Robbins, Holly Wardlow (eds); The making of global and local modernities in Melanesia; Humiliation, transformation and the nature of cultural change (Toon van Meijl) Kwee Hui Kian; The political economy of Java’s northeast coast c. 1740-1800; Elite synergy (Luc Nagtegaal) Charles A. Coppel (ed.); Violent conflicts in Indonesia; Analysis, representation, resolution (Gerben Nooteboom) Tom Therik; Wehali: the female land; Traditions of a Timorese ritual centre (Dianne van Oosterhout) Patricio N. Abinales, Donna J. Amoroso; State and society in the Philippines (Portia L. Reyes) Han ten Brummelhuis; King of the waters; Homan van der Heide and the origin of modern irrigation in Siam (Jeroen Rikkerink) Hotze Lont; Juggling money; Financial self-help organizations and social security in Yogyakarta (Dirk Steinwand) Henk Maier; We are playing relatives; A survey of Malay writing (Maya Sutedja-Liem) Hjorleifur Jonsson; Mien relations; Mountain people and state control in Thailand (Nicholas Tapp) Lee Hock Guan (ed.); Civil society in Southeast Asia (Bryan S. Turner) Jan Mrázek; Phenomenology of a puppet theatre; Contemplations on the art of Javanese wayang kulit (Sarah Weiss) Janet Steele; Wars within; The story of Tempo, an independent magazine in Soeharto’s Indonesia (Robert Wessing) REVIEW ESSAY Sean Turnell; Burma today Kyaw Yin Hlaing, Robert Taylor, Tin Maung Maung Than (eds); Myanmar; Beyond politics to societal imperatives Monique Skidmore (ed.); Burma at the turn of the 21st century Mya Than; Myanmar in ASEAN In: Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde no. 163 (2007) no: 1, Leiden

Robert Ousterhout, the author of a magnificent book “Eastern Medieval Architecture. The Building Traditions of Bizantium and Neighboring Lands”, published by Oxford University Press in 2019, the remarkable scholar and generous friend, was so kind to mention in his C. V. on the sight of Penn University (Philadelphia, USA) that he had been the Visiting professor of the Moscow architectural Institute (State Academy), as well as simulteniously of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, but he did not say that he had been awarded the degree of professor honoris causa by the academic council of MARHI. Unfortunately, his life in muscovite hostel, nevertheless we tried to do our best to provide the best possible accommodation in a “suit” with two rooms with a bathroom, had been radically different from the wonderful dwelling chosen for the visiting teaching stuff from MARHI in the University of Illinois. And Robert called our hostel “Gulag”. He had been joking probably. It is impossible to overestimate the role of professor Robert Ousterhaut in the studies of the history of Byzantine art. At the present day he is the leader in the world studies of the architecture of Byzantium, the real heir of the great Rihard Krauthaimer and Slobodan Curcic, whom he had left behind in his works. His books are known very well in Russia. R. Ousterhaut graduated in the history of art and architecture at the University of Oregon, the Institute of European Studies in Vienna, Universities of Cincinati and Illinois. Не worked at the department of history of art at the University of Oregon, department of history of architecture at the University of Illinois, had the chair of the history of architecture and preservation at the University of Illinois, which is considered, as we know, one of the twenty best American universities. He always worked hard and with success. When I had finished reading my course of the history of Russian architecture at Illinois, he said: “Yes, next term the students are to be treated well…” Now he is professor emeritus of the history of art in the famous Penn University. He taught the courses of the “History of architecture from Prehistory to 1400” and “Eastern medieval architecture” as well as led remarkable seminars devoted to the different problem of the history of architecture of the Eastern Meditarenian, including the art of Constantinopole, Cappadoce, meaning and identity in medieval art. His remarkable 4-years field work at Cappadoce, which he described in several books, and his efforts of the preservation of the architectural monuments of Constantinopole are very valuable, Among his books one certainly must cite Holy Apostels: Lost Monument and Forgotten Project, (Washingtone, D. C., 2020); Visualizing Community: Art Material Culture, and Settlement in Byzantine Cappadocia, Dumbarton Oaks Studies 46 (Washington, D. C., 2017); Carie Camii (Istambul, 2011); Architecture of the Sacred: Space, Ritual, and Experience from Classical Greece to Byzantium (Cambridge University Press, 2012), ed. with Bonna D. Wescoat; Palmyra 1885: The Wolfe Expedition and the Photographs of John Henry Haynes, with B. Anderson (Istanbul: Cornucopia, 2016) John Henry Haynes: Archaeologist and Photographer in the Ottoman Empire 1881–1900 (2nd revised edition, Istanbul: Cornucopia, 2016). Several of his books were reprinted. He edited Approaches to Architecture and Its Decoration: Festschrift for Slobodan Ćurčić (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012), with M. Johnson and A. Papalexandrou. His outstanding book Мaster Builders of Byzantium (2nd paperback edition, University of Pennsylvania Museum Publications, 2008) was translated into Russian and Turkish. In this work Robert Ousterhaut for the first time in English speaking tradition is regarding the architecture of Bazantium from the point of view of building art and technology. On the base of the analysis of primary written sources, contemporary archeology data, and careful study of existing monuments the author concludes that the Byzantine architecture was not only exploiting the traditions, but was trying to find new ways of the development of typology and construction techniques, which led to transformation of artistique features. Professor R. Ousterhaut discusses the choice of building materials, structure from foundations to vaults, theoretical problems which solved the master masons of Byzantium. In his recent book Eastern Medieval Architecture: The Building Traditions of Byzantium and Neighboring Lands, (Oxford University Press, 2019) Robert Ousterhaut is going further. He writes in the introduction: “I succeded my mentor at the University of Illinois… I had the privilege and challenge of teaching “Early Christian and Byzantine Architecture” to generations of the architecture students inspired my 1999 book, Master Builders of Byzantium. The work of Robert Ousterhaut, published 2019, is the new and full interpretation of the architectural heritage of Byzantine Commonwealth. The author devoted the first part of his book to Late Antiquity (3–7 centuries), beginning with the relations of Domus Ecclesiastae and Church Basilica, then speaking of Konstantinopole and Jerusalem of the times of St. Constantine the Great, liturgy, inspiration, commemoration and pilgrimage, adoration of relics as ritual factors which influenced the formation of sacred space, methods and materials, chosen by the Bizantine builders with their interaction of the mentality of the East and West. Special attention is given to dwelling, urban planning and fortification Naturally a chapter is devoted to Hagia Sophia and the building programs of Emperor Justinian. The second part speaks of the transition to what is called Middle Byzantine architecture both in the capital and at the edges of the Empire. The third part tells the story of the 9th, 10th and 11th centuries and includes the rise of the monasteries, once more secular and urban architecture, the craft of church builders. Churches of Greece and Macedonia, Anatolia, Armenia and Georgia, as well as of the West of Byzantium – Venice, Southern Italy and Sicily. The chapter is devoted to Slavonic Balkans – Bulgaria and Serbia and Kievan Rus. The last fourth part of the book describes the times of the Latin Empire, difficult for Byzantium, to the novelty of the architecture of Palewologos and the development of Byzantine ideas in the Balkans and especially in the building programs of the great powers of the epoch Ottoman Empire and Russia. There is a lot more to say about the book of professor Robert Ousterhaut, but we have to leave this to the next issue of this magazine, and better give the space to the words of the author – his text on the architecture of Kievan Rus.

-John Parker, Norman J.W. Thrower, Sir Francis Drake and the famous voyage, 1577-1580. Los Angeles: University of California Press, Contributions of the UCLA Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies Vol. 11, 1984. xix + 214 pp.-Franklin W. Knight, B.W. Higman, Trade, government and society in Caribbean history 1700-1920. Kingston: Heinemann Educational Books, 1983. xii + 172 pp.-A.J.R. Russel-Wood, Lyle N. McAlister, Spain and Portugal in the New World, 1492-1700. Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, Europe and the World in the Age of Expansion Volume III, 1984. xxxi + 585 pp.-Tony Martin, John Gaffar la Guerre, The social and political thought of the colonial intelligentsia. Mona, Jamaica: Institute of Social and Economic Research, University of the West Indies, 1982. 136 pp.-Egenek K. Galbraith, Raymond T. Smith, Kinship ideology and practice in Latin America. Chapel Hill NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1984. 341 pp.-Anthony P. Maingot, James Pack, Nelson's blood: the story of naval rum. Annapolis MD, U.S.A.: Naval Institute Press and Havant Hampshire, U.K.: Kenneth Mason, 1982. 200 pp.-Anthony P. Maingot, Hugh Barty-King ,Rum: yesterday and today. London: William Heineman, 1983. xviii + 264 pp., Anton Massel (eds)-Helen I. Safa, Alejandro Portes ,Latin journey: Cuban and Mexican immigrants in the United States. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985. xxi + 387 pp., Robert L. Bach (eds)-Wayne S. Smith, Carlos Franqui, Family portrait wth Fidel: a memoir. New York: Random House, 1984. xxiii + 263 pp.-Sergio G. Roca, Claes Brundenius, Revolutionary Cuba: the challenge of economic growth with equity. Boulder CO: Westview Press and London: Heinemann, 1984. xvi + 224 pp.-H. Hoetink, Bernardo Vega, La migración española de 1939 y los inicios del marxismo-leninismo en la República Dominicana. Santo Domingo: Fundación Cultural Dominicana, 1984. 208 pp.-Antonio T. Díaz-Royo, César Andreú-Iglesias, Memoirs of Bernardo Vega: a contribution to the history of the Puerto Rican community in New York. Translated by Juan Flores. New York and London: Monthly Review, 1984. xix + 243 pp.-Mariano Negrón-Portillo, Harold J. Lidin, History of the Puerto Rican independence movement: 20th century. Maplewood NJ; Waterfront Press, 1983. 250 pp.-Roberto DaMatta, Teodore Vidal, Las caretas de cartón del Carnaval de Ponce. San Juan: Ediciones Alba, 1983. 107 pp.-Manuel Alvarez Nazario, Nicolás del Castillo Mathieu, Esclavos negros en Cartagena y sus aportes léxicos. Bogotá: Institute Caro y Cuervo, 1982. xvii + 247 pp.-J.T. Gilmore, P.F. Campbell, The church in Barbados in the seventeenth century. Garrison, Barbados; Barbados Museum and Historical Society, 1982. 188 pp.-Douglas K. Midgett, Neville Duncan ,Women and politics in Barbados 1948-1981. Cave Hill, Barbados: Institute of Social and Economic Research (Eastern Caribbean), Women in the Caribbean Project vol. 3, 1983. x + 68 pp., Kenneth O'Brien (eds)-Ken I. Boodhoo, Maurice Bishop, Forward ever! Three years of the Grenadian Revolution. Speeches of Maurice Bishop. Sydney: Pathfinder Press, 1982. 287 pp.-Michael L. Conniff, Velma Newton, The silver men: West Indian labour migration to Panama, 1850-1914. Kingston: Institute of Social and Economic Research, University of the West Indies, 1984. xx + 218 pp.-Robert Dirks, Frank L. Mills ,Christmas sports in St. Kitts: our neglected cultural tradition. With lessons by Bertram Eugene. Frederiksted VI: Eastern Caribbean Institute, 1984. iv + 66 pp., S.B. Jones-Hendrickson (eds)-Catherine L. Macklin, Virginia Kerns, Woman and the ancestors: Black Carib kinship and ritual. Urbana IL: University of Illinois Press, 1983. xv + 229 pp.-Marian McClure, Brian Weinstein ,Haiti: political failures, cultural successes. New York: Praeger (copublished with Hoover Institution Press, Stanford), 1984. xi + 175 pp., Aaron Segal (eds)-A.J.F. Köbben, W.S.M. Hoogbergen, De Boni-oorlogen, 1757-1860: marronage en guerilla in Oost-Suriname (The Boni wars, 1757-1860; maroons and guerilla warfare in Eastern Suriname). Bronnen voor de studie van Afro-amerikaanse samenlevinen in de Guyana's, deel 11 (Sources for the Study of Afro-American Societies in the Guyanas, no. 11). Dissertation, University of Utrecht, 1985. 527 pp.-Edward M. Dew, Baijah Mhango, Aid and dependence: the case of Suriname, a study in bilateral aid relations. Paramaribo: SWI, Foundation in the Arts and Sciences, 1984. xiv + 171 pp.-Edward M. Dew, Sandew Hira, Balans van een coup: drie jaar 'surinaamse revolutie.' Rotterdam: Futile (Blok & Flohr), 1983. 175 pp.-Ian Robertson, John A. Holm ,Dictionary of Bahamian English. New York: Lexik House Publishers, 1982. xxxix + 228 pp., Alison Watt Shilling (eds)-Erica Williams Connell, Paul Sutton, Commentary: A reply from Williams Connell (to the review by Anthony Maingot in NWIG 57:89-97).

Resumen.La francmasonerí­a tuvo fuerte presencia en el mundo desde su aparición en el siglo XVIII, participó en movimientos sociales y polí­ticos, y desarrolló en sus ritos: sí­mbolos y parafernalia, obras que reflejan sus ideales; este arte estuvo influido por siete corrientes artí­sticas-intelectuales: el arte gótico y la arquitectura antigua; la alquimia; las descripciones bí­blicas; las ordenes de caballerí­a; grupos esotéricos; las doctrinas masónicas y la cultura greco-latina. El trabajo presenta posibles influencias en la historia del arte francmasón, por lo que es la entrega parcial de una investigación sobre Francmasonerí­a, arte y polí­tica: Siglos XVIII al XX. El texto utilizó revisión documental de fuentes especializadas en arte, así­ como francmasonerí­a. Se inició en enero y concluyó en septiembre de 2015.Palabras clave: arte, fracmasonerí­a, simbolismo, rituales, masones.Abstract.Freemasonry had a strong presence in the world since its appearance in the eighteenth century, participating in social and political movements, developing their rituals, symbols and paraphernalia, works that reflect their ideals, this art was influenced seven artistic and intellectual currents: Gothic art and ancient architecture; alchemy; Biblical descriptions; orders of chivalry; esoteric groups; Masonic doctrines and the Greco-Latin culture. The paper presents possible influences in the history of art Freemason, so it is a partial delivery of an investigation into Freemasonry, Art and Politics: XVIII to XX. The paper used document review of specialized sources in art and Freemasonry. It began in January and ended in September 2015.Key words: art, freemasonry, simbolism, rituals, freemasons.

En este trabajo estudiamos dos logias del Territorio Nacional de Neuquén, Argentina, a comienzos del siglo XX: “Obreros Luz del Neuquén” y “La Verdad”. Nuestro objetivo es indagar su origen; su funcionamiento; sus disputas y sus tensiones internas. También aportamos evidencia de las redes de vinculación entre los masones y el poder político al formarse los territorios nacionales. Así, nos proponemos a contribuir al estudio de un tema complejo desde una perspectiva académica alejada de miradas filosóficas o de rituales. Para el abordaje del problema trabajamos con material documental escrito, específicamente los expedientes de las dos logias masónicas analizadas.

The spiritual culture of Western Slavs is becoming an increasingly prominent research field in archaeology. The dynamic growth of material evidence allows archaeologists not only to expand the corpus of evidence used in their work but also to formulate new hypotheses that broaden the current state of knowledge, as well as to develop new research trajectories. The study of relics of cult-places and the material remains of ritual ceremonies play a particularly significant role here. Research into material culture, including iconographic sources, is of great significance. Both these research topics can be broadened by the studies of objects commonly extracted from the earth, namely ceramic vessels.Moreover, not only the ritual behaviour that accompanies their production, or the symbolism of vessels, as such, or their forms but also about their ornamentation is of interest. Thus far, the issue of ornamentation has remained on the fringes of mainstream scholarly debates. Marek Dulinicz is among the scholars who have made the most substantial contributions to this field of research. However, since 2008, there have been no further studies on this topic. Although the corpus of completely preserved or fragmented vessels with figural depictions known today has expanded, the body of material with narrative scenes remains fairly small. New finds of vessels (or their fragments) with such imagery are found very rarely – even though numerous excavation campaigns are being undertaken – leading to the situation in which vessels with narrative scenes become rare and exceptional sources. This paper will specifically address this particular body of material. Around twenty different vessels will be considered here. Most of them are known from the area inhabited by the Baltic Slavs and the territory of modern-day Poland (Masovia and Silesia). One shard comes from Slovakia. The present paper seeks to provide answers to questions about the purpose of placing figural imagery on vessels, as well as to investigate the spatial and chronological occurrence of such finds, and the possible functions the vessels had in the everyday lives of their users.

Sugar pigs are traditional confections shaped like sugar mice with little legs and no tail. One might, therefore, nibble the trotters of a sugar pig or suck delicately upon the nose of a sugar pig, but one must never eat one’s sugary treats like a pig. As an imagined border between the private world inside the body and the public world outside, the mouth is an unstable limit of selfhood. Food can easily cause disgust as it passes through this hazardous terrain, and this disgust is produced less by the thought of incorporation than by socially constructed boundaries such as the division between human and animal. In order to guard against disgust and the moral judgement it incurs about the eater, the mouth is governed by myriad rules and, in the case of the juvenile mouth, subject to adult surveillance. This paper investigates children’s consumption of confectionery in relation to the mouth as a liminal border space. Children are “sugar pigs” in as much as they disregard the conventions of civilised eating that govern the mouth, preferring instead to slubber, gnaw, lick, and chew like animals, to reveal the contents of their mouths and examine the contents of others, to put lollies in and out of their mouths with dirty hands, and to share single lollies. Children’s lolly rituals resist civilised eating norms, but they hold important cultural meanings that parallel and subvert those of the adult world. Children’s mouths are communal spaces and the rituals that take place in them are acts of friendship, intimacy, and power. Eating norms instituted over thousands of years ensure that people do not eat like animals, and the pig, in particular, stands in opposition to civilised eating. In On Good Manners for Boys (1530), Erasmus of Rotterdam advises that a general guide to eating like a human being is to eat inconspicuously and self-consciously—to “lick a plate or dish to which some sugar or sweet substance has adhered is for cats, not people,” he explains, and to “gnaw bones is for a dog”—and he compares ill-mannered eating with that of pigs, observing how some people “slubber up their meat like swine” (qtd. in Kass 145). Unrefined table manners and uncontrolled appetite continue to elicit such expressions of disgust as “dirty pig” and “greedy pig.” Pigs grunt. Pigs snuffle among refuse. Pigs, as Bob Ashley et al. note, represent all that is uncivilised and exist only as a signifier of appetite (2). The pig and civilisation, however, do not exist simply in opposition. Cookery writer Jane Grigson argues that European civilisation has been founded upon the pig (qtd. in Ashley et al. 2). Also, because the pig’s body is pinkish, soft, and flabby like a human body and because pigs were usually housed near or even inside human dwellings, the pig confounds the human/animal binary: it is “a threshold animal” (Stallybrass and White qtd. in Ashley et al. 7). Furthermore, the steady evolution of eating practices suggests that humans would eat like animals if left in their natural state. Food rules are part of the “attempt to exclude piggishness” from human civilisation, which, according to Ashley et al., demonstrates “precisely the proximity of human and pig” (7). As physician Leon Kass observes, eating conventions “show us both how much we have taken instruction and how much we needed it” (139). Humans aspire to purity and perfection, but William Ian Miller explains that “fuelling no small part of those aspirations is disgust with what we are or with what we are likely to slide back into” (Anatomy xiv). Eating norms, therefore, do not emphasise the difference between human and the pig as much as they express the underlying anxiety that the human mouth and the act of eating are utterly animal. ‘Lollies’ is the Australian term for the confectionery that children mostly buy, and while the child with a lolly pouched in its cheek is such a familiar, even iconic, image that it features on the covers of two recent books about confectionery (Richardson, Whittaker), licking, gnawing, and slubbering—Erasmus’ wonderfully evocative and piggish word—aptly describe the consumption of lollies. Many lollies are large and hard, and eating them requires time, effort, concentration, and conspicuous mouth activity: the cheek bulges and speaking is difficult; a great deal of saliva is produced and the area around the mouth becomes smeared with coloured drool; and there is always the possibility of the lolly falling out. The smaller the child’s mouth, or the larger the lolly, the more impossible it is to eat inconspicuously and self-consciously. Endless chewing is similarly animal-like, and “the bovine look” of teenagers featured in public complaints when chewing gum was mass-produced in the twentieth century (Hendrickson 7). Humans must not eat like animals, but overly-stuffed cheeks, sucking and slubbering mouths, licking tongues, gnawing teeth, and mindlessly ruminating jaws are unashamedly animal-like. Other rules guard against disgust arising from the sight of half-chewed food. When food is in the process of becoming part of the body, it quickly acquires the quality of things with which disgust is more readily associated, things that are, according to Miller, moist rather than dry, viscid rather than free-flowing, pliable rather than hard, things that are “oozy, mucky, gooey, slimy, clammy, sticky, tacky, dank, squishy, or filmy” (“Darwin’s Disgust” 338). Soft lollies with their vividly-coloured and glossy or sugar-encrusted surfaces look magical, but once they go into the mouth are “magically transformed into the disgusting” (Anatomy Miller 96). Food in the process of “becoming” must, therefore, never be seen again. The process of transformation takes place in the private interior of the body, but, if the mouth is open, half-transformed food is visible, and chewed food, according to Miller, “has the capacity to be even more disgusting than feces [sic]” (Anatomy 96). Sometimes, the sight of half-consumed lollies inside children’s mouths is deliberate because children poke out their tongues and look into each other’s mouths to monitor the progress of lollies that change colour as they break down. Miller explains that the rules of disgust are suspended in sexual and non-sexual love: “Disgust marks the boundaries of the self; the relaxing of them marks privilege, intimacy, duty, and caring” (Anatomy xi). This principle applies to children’s lolly rituals. If children forget to note the colour of a Clinker as they bite it, or if they want to note the progress of a Cloud or gobstopper, they open their mouths and even poke out their tongues so a friend can inspect the colour of the lolly, or their tongue. Such acts are marks of friendship. It is not something children do with everyone. The mouth is a threshold of self that children relax as a marker of privilege. The clean/unclean binary exerts a powerful influence on food because, in addition to the way in which food is eaten, it determines the kind of food that is eaten. The mouth is a border between the self (the eater) and the other (the eaten), so what is eaten (the other) eventually becomes the eater (the self). Paradoxically, the reverse is also true; the eater becomes what is eaten—hence, “we are what we eat.” Little wonder then that food is a site of anxiety, surveillance, and control. The pig eats anything, but children’s consumption is strictly monitored. The clean food imperative means that food must be uncontaminated by the world outside the body, and lollies violate the clean food category in this regard. Large, hard lollies can fall out of the mouth, or children may be obliged to violently expel them if they are danger of choking. The young protagonists in Saturdee, Norman Lindsay’s bildungsroman set in country Victoria after WWI, arrange a secret tryst with some girls, and when their plan is discovered a horde of spectators assembles to watch the proceedings: [Snowey Critchet] had provided himself with a bull’s-eye; a comestible about the size of a cricket ball, which he stowed away in one cheek, as a monkey pouches an orange, where it distended his face in a most obnoxious manner. He was prepared, it seemed, to spend the entire afternoon inspecting a scandal, while sucking his bull’s-eye down to edible proportions. (147) Amid a subsequent volley of taunts and cow dung, Snowey lands in the gutter, a reprisal that “was like to be Snowey’s end through causing him to bolt his bull’s-eye whole. It was too large to swallow but large enough to block up his gullet and choke him. Frenziedly he fought his way out of the gutter and ran off black in the face to eject his windpipe obstruction” (147-8). Choking episodes are further aspects of children’s consumption that adults would deem dangerous as well as disgusting. If a child picks up a lolly from the ground, an adult is likely to slap it away and spit out the word “Dirty!” The child’s hands are potentially part of the contaminated outside world, hence, wash your hands before you eat, don’t eat with your fingers, don’t lick your fingers, don’t put your fingers into your mouth, don’t handle food if you aren’t going to eat it, don’t eat food that others have touched. Lolly-consumption breaches the clean/unclean divide when children put fingers into mouths to hook tacky lollies like Minties off the back teeth, remove lollies in order to observe their changing shape or colour, pull chewing gum from the mouth, or push bubble gum back in. The mouth is part of the clean world inside the body; adult disgust stems from concern about contamination through contact with the world outside the body, including the face and hands. The hands are also involved in playground rituals. Children often remove lollies from their mouths, play with them, and put them back in. Such invented rituals include sharpening musk sticks by twisting them in the mouth before jabbing friends with them and returning them to the mouth. Teenagers also bite the heads off jelly babies and rearrange the bodies in multicoloured versions before eating them. These rituals expose half-consumed lollies, and allow lollies to be contaminated by the outside world, but they are markers of friendship and ways of belonging to particular groups as well as sources of entertainment. The ultimate cause for disgust, apart from sharing with a pig perhaps, arises when children violate the boundary between one mouth and another by sharing a single lolly. “Can I have a lick o’ your lollipop?” is an expression that belongs to a time when germs were yet to consume the public imagination, and it demonstrates that children have long been disposed to sharing confectionery in this way. Allowing someone to share an all-day sucker indicates friendship because it involves sacrifice as well as intimacy. How many times the friend licks it indicates how important a friend they are. Chewing gum and hard lollies such as bull’s-eyes and all-day suckers are ideal for sharing because they last a long time. Snowey’s choking episode is punishment both for having such a lolly while others did not, and for not sharing it. When friends share a single lolly in Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief it is a sign of their growing intimacy. Rudy and Liesel had only enough money for one lolly: “they unwrapped it and tried biting it in half, but the sugar was like glass. Far too tough, even for Rudy’s animal-like choppers. Instead, they had to trade sucks on it until it was finished. Ten sucks for Rudy. Ten for Liesel. Back and forth” (168). Rudy asks Liesel to kiss him on many occasions, but she never does. She regrets this after he is killed, so here the shared lolly stands in lieu of intimacy rather than friendship. Lollies are still shared in this way in Australian playgrounds, but often it is only hard lollies, and only with close friends. A hard lolly has a clearly defined boundary that can easily be washed, but even unwashed the only portion that is contaminated, and contaminable, is the visible surface of the lolly. This is not the case with a stick of chewing gum. In response to Tom Sawyer’s enquiry as to whether or not she likes rats, Becky Thatcher replies,“What I like, is chewing gum.” “O, I should say so! I wish I had some now.” “Do you? I’ve got some. I’ll let you chew it a while, but you must give it back to me.” That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment.” (58) Unlike the clearly defined boundary of a gobstopper, the boundary of chewing gum continually shifts and folds in on itself. The entire confection is contaminated through contact with the mouth of the other. The definition of clean food also includes that which is deemed appropriate for eating, and part of the appeal of lollies is their junk status. Some lollies are sugar versions of “good” foodstuffs: strawberries and cream, wildberries, milk bottles, pineapples, and bananas. Even more ironic, especially in light of the amount of junk food in many adult diets, others are sugar versions of junk food: fries, coke bottles, Pizzas, Hot Dogs, and Hamburgers, all of which are packaged like miniatures of actual products. Lollies, like their British equivalent, kets (which means rubbish), are absolutely distinct from the confectionery adults eat, and British sociologist Allison James shows that this is because they “stand in contrast to conventional adult sweets and adult eating generally” (298). Children use terms like junk and ket intentionally because there is a “power inherent in the conceptual gulf between the worlds of the adult and the child” (James, “Confections” 297). Parents place limits on children’s consumption because lollies are seen to interfere with the consumption of good food, but, as James explains, for children, “it is meals which disrupt the eating of sweets” (“Confections” 296). Some lollies metaphorically violate a different kind of food taboo by taking the form of “unclean” animals like rats, pythons, worms, cats, dinosaurs, blowflies, cane toads, and geckos. This highlights the arbitrary nature of food categories: snakes, lizards, and witchetty grubs do not feature on European menus, but indigenous Australians eat them. Neither do white Australians eat horses, frogs, cats, dogs, and insects, which are considered delicacies in other cultures, some even in other European cultures. Eating human beings is widely-considered taboo, but children enjoy eating lollies shaped like parts of the human body. A fundraiser at a Queensland school fete in 2009 epitomised the contemporary fascination with consuming body parts. Traditionally, the Guess-The-Number fundraiser involves guessing the number of jelly beans in a glass jar, but in this instance the jar held teeth, lips, noses, eyeballs, ears, hearts, and feet. Similarly, when children eat Tongue Pops—tangy tongue-shaped lollies on a stick—the irony of having two tongues, of licking your own tongue, is not lost on children. Other lollies represent tiny people, and even babies. In the ordinary world, children are small and powerless, but the magic of lollies enables them to be the man-eating giant, while Chicos and jelly babies represent the powerless child. Children welcome the opportunity to “bite someone else’s head off” for a change. These lollies are anonymous people, but Freddo Frog and Caramello Koala have names as well as bodies and facial features, while others, like Cadbury’s seven Magical Elves, even have personalities. One of these, Aquamarine, is depicted as a winking character dressed in blue, and described on the wrapper as “a talented musician who plays music to inspire the Elves to enjoy themselves and work harder, but is a bit of a farty pants.” Advertisements also commonly personify lollies by giving them faces, voices, and limbs, so that even something as un-humanlike as a red ball, in the case of the Jaffa, is represented as a cheeky character in the act of running away. And children happily eat them all. Cannibalism rates highly in the world of children’s confectionery (James 298). If lollies are “metaphoric rubbish,” as James explains, they can also be understood as metaphorically breaking food taboos (299). Not only do children’s rituals create a sense of friendship, belonging, even intimacy, but engaging in them is also an act of power because children know that these practices disgust adults. Lollies give children permission to transgress the rules of civilised eating and this carnivalesque subversion is part of the pleasure of eating lollies. James suggests that confectionery is neither raw nor cooked, but belongs to a third food category that helps to define “the disorderly and inverted world of children” (“Confections” 301). In James’ analysis, children and adults inhabit separate worlds, and she views children’s sweets as part of the “alternative system of meanings through which [children] can establish their own integrity” (“Confections” 301, 305). In the sense that they exist outside of officialdom, children have inherited the carnivalesque tradition of the festive life, which Bakhtin theorises as “a second world” organised on the basis of laughter (6, 8). In this topsy-turvy, carnivalesque realm, with its emphasis on the grotesque body, laughter, fun, exuberance, comic rituals, and other non-official values, children escape adult rule. Lollies may be rubbish in the adult world, but, like the carnival fool, they are “king” in the child’s second and festive life, where bodies bulge, feasting is a public and often grotesque event, and children are masters of their own destiny. Eating lollies, then, represents a “metaphoric chewing up of adult order” and a means of the child assuming control over at least one of its orifices (James 305-6). In this sense, the pig is not a symbol of the uncivilised but the un-adult. Children are pigs with sugar—slubbering around hard lollies, licking other children’s lollies, metaphorically cannibalising jelly babies—and if they disgust adults it is because they challenge the eating norms that guard against the ever-present reminder that eating is an animal act. Eating practices “civilize the human animal” (Kass 131), but eating is inherently an untidy experience, and any semblance of order, as anthropologist Mary Douglas explains, is only created by exaggerating difference (qtd. in Ashley et al. 3). The pig is commonly understood to be the antithesis of civilisation and, therefore, the means by which we understand ourselves as civilised beings. The child with a lolly, however, is evidence that the line between human and animal is a tenuous divide. References Ashley, Bob, Joanne Hollows, Steve Jones and Ben Taylor. Food and Cultural Studies. London: Routledge, 2004. Bakhtin, Mikhail. Rabelais and His World. Trans.Helene Iswolsky. Cambridge: M.I.T. P, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1968. Hendrickson, Robertson. The Great American Chewing Gum Book. Radnor, Pennsylvania: Chilton, 1976. James, Allison. “Confections, Concoctions and Conceptions.” Popular Culture: Past and Present. Eds Bernard Waites, Tony Bennett and Graham Martin. London: Routledge, 1986. 294-307. James, Allison. “The Good, the Bad and the Delicious: The Role of Confectionery in British Society.” Sociological Review 38, 1990: 666-88. Kass, Leon R. The Hungry Soul: Eating and the Perfecting of Our Nature. New York: Free Press, 1994. Lindsay, Norman. Saturdee. London: Angus & Robertson, 1981. Miller, William Ian. “Darwin’s Disgust.” Empire of the Senses: The Sensual Culture Reader. Ed. David Howes. Oxford: Berg, 2005. Miller, William Ian. The Anatomy of Disgust. Cambridge: Harvard U P, 1997. Mason, Laura. Sugar Plums and Sherbet: The Pre-history of Sweets. Devon: Prospect, 1998. Richardson, Tim. Sweets: A History of Temptation. London: Bantam Books, 2003. Twain, Mark. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. New York: Collier, 1962. Whittaker, Nicholas. Sweet Talk: The Secret History of Confectionery. London: Phoenix, 1999. Zusak, Markus. The Book Thief. Sydney: Picador, 2005.

The concept of transmedia storyworlds unfolding across complex serial narrative structures has become increasingly important to the study of modern media industries and audience communities. Yet, the precise connections between transmedia networks, serial structures, and narrative processes often remain underdeveloped. The dispersion of potential story elements across a diverse collection of media platforms and technologies prompts questions concerning the function of seriality in the absence of fixed instalments, the meaning of narrative when plot is largely a personal construction of each audience member, and the nature of storytelling in the absence of a unifying author, or when authorship itself takes on a serial character. This special issue opens a conversation on the intersection of these three concepts and their implications for a variety of disciplines, artistic practices, and philosophies. By re-thinking these concepts from fresh perspectives, the collection challenges scholars to consider how a wide range of academic, aesthetic, and social phenomena might be productively thought through using the overlapping lenses of transmedia, seriality, and narrativity. Thus, the collection gathers scholars from life-writing, sport, film studies, cultural anthropology, fine arts, media studies, and literature, all of whom find common ground at this fruitful crossroads. This breadth also challenges the narrow use of transmedia as a specialized term to describe current developments in corporate mass media products that seek to exploit the affordances of hybrid digital media environments. Many prominent scholars, including Marie-Laure Ryan and Henry Jenkins, acknowledge that a basic definition of transmedia as stories with extensions and reinterpretations in numerous media forms includes the oldest kinds of human expression, such as the ancient storyworlds of Arthurian legend and The Odyssey. Yet, what Jenkins terms “top-down” transmedia—that is, pre-planned and often corporate transmedia—has received a disproportionate share of scholarly attention, with modern franchises like The Matrix, the Marvel universe, and Lost serving as common exemplars (Flanagan, Livingstone, and McKenny; Hadas; Mittell; Scolari). Thus, many of the contributions to this issue push the boundaries of what has commonly been studied as transmedia as well as the limits of what may be considered a serial structure or even a story. For example, these papers imagine how an autobiography may also be a digital concept album unfolding in reverse, how participatory artistic performances may unfold in unpredictable instalments across physical and digital space, and how studying sports fandom as a long series of transmedia narrative elements encourages scholars to grapple with the unique structures assembled by audiences of non-fictional story worlds. Setting these experimental offerings into dialogue with entries that approach the study of transmedia in a more established manner provides the basis for building bridges between such recognized conversations in new media studies and potential collaborations with other disciplines and subfields of media studies.This issue builds upon papers collected from four years of the International Transmedia Serial Narration Seminar, which I co-organized with Dr. Claire Cornillon, Assistant Professor (Maîtresse de Conférences) of comparative literature at Université de Nîmes. The seminar held sessions in Paris, Le Havre, Rouen, Amsterdam, and Utrecht, with interdisciplinary speakers from the USA, Australia, France, Belgium, and the Netherlands. As a transnational, interdisciplinary project intended to cross both theoretical and physical boundaries, the seminar aimed to foster exchange between academic conversations that can become isolated not only within disciplines, but also within national and linguistic borders. The seminar thus sought to enhance academic mobility between both people and ideas, and the digital, open-access publication of the collected papers alongside additional scholarly interlocutors serves to broaden the seminar’s goals of creating a border-crossing conversation. After two special issues primarily collecting the French language papers in TV/Series (2014) and Revue Française des Sciences de l’Information et de la Communication (2017), this issue seeks to share the Transmedia Serial Narration project with a wider audience by publishing the remaining English-language papers, accompanied by several other contributions in dialogue with the seminar’s themes. It is our hope that this collection will invite a broad international audience to creatively question the meaning of transmedia, seriality, and narrativity both historically and in the modern, rapidly changing, global and digital media environment.Several articles in the issue illuminate existing debates and common case studies in transmedia scholarship by comparing theoretical models to the much more slippery reality of a media form in flux. Thus, Mélanie Bourdaa’s feature article, “From One Medium to the Next: How Comic Books Create Richer Storylines,” examines theories of narrative complexity and transmedia by scholars including Henry Jenkins, Derek Johnson, and Jason Mittell to then propose a new typology of extensions to accommodate the lived reality expressed by producers of transmedia. Because her interviews with artists and writers emphasize the co-constitutive nature of economic and narrative considerations in professionals’ decisions, Bourdaa’s typology can offer researchers a tool to clarify the marketing and narrative layers of transmedia extensions. As such, her classification system further illuminates what is particular about forms of corporate transmedia with a profit orientation, which may not be shared by non-profit, collective, and independently produced transmedia projects.Likewise, Radha O’Meara and Alex Bevan map existing scholarship on transmedia to point out the limitations of deriving theory only from certain forms of storytelling. In their article “Transmedia Theory’s Author Discourse and Its Limitations,” O’Meara and Bevan argue that scholars have preferred to focus on examples of transmedia with a strong central author-figure or that they may indeed help to rhetorically shore up the coherency of transmedia authorship through writing about transmedia creators as auteurs. Tying their critique to the established weaknesses of auteur theory associated with classic commentaries like Roland Barthes’ “Death of the Author” and Foucault’s “What is an Author?”, O’Meara and Bevan explain that this focus on transmedia creators as authority figures reinforces hierarchical, patriarchal understandings of the creative process and excludes from consideration all those unauthorized transmedia extensions through which audiences frequently engage and make meaning from transmedia networks. They also emphasize the importance of constructing academic theories of transmedia authorship that can accommodate collaborative forms of hybrid amateur and professional authorship, as well as tolerate the ambiguities of “authorless” storyworlds that lack clear narrative boundaries. O’Meara and Bevan argue that such theories will help to break down gendered power hierarchies in Hollywood, which have long allowed individual men to “claim credit for the stories and for all the work that many people do across various sectors and industries.”Dan Hassler-Forest likewise considers existing theory and a corporate case study in his examination of analogue echoes within a modern transmedia serial structure by mapping the storyworld of Twin Peaks (1990). His article, “‘Two Birds with One Stone’: Transmedia Serialisation in Twin Peaks,” demonstrates the push-and-pull between two contemporary TV production strategies: first, the use of transmedia elements that draw viewers away from the TV screen toward other platforms, and second, the deployment of strategies that draw viewers back to the TV by incentivizing broadcast-era appointment viewing. Twin Peaks offers a particularly interesting example of the manner in which these strategies intertwine partly because it already offered viewers an analogue transmedia experience in the 1990s by splitting story elements between TV episodes and books. Unlike O’Meara and Bevan, who elucidate the growing prominence of transmedia auteurs who lend rhetorical coherence to dispersed narrative elements, Hassler-Forest argues that this older analogue transmedia network capitalized upon the dilution of authorial authority, due to the distance between TV and book versions, to negotiate tensions between the producers’ competing visions. Hassler-Forest also notes that the addition of digital soundtrack albums further complicates the serial nature of the story by using the iTunes and TV distribution schedules to incentivize repeated sequential consumption of each element, thus drawing modern viewers to the TV screen, then the computer screen, and then back again.Two articles offer a concrete test of these theoretical perspectives by utilizing ethnographic participant-observation and interviewing to examine how audiences actually navigate diffuse, dispersed storyworlds. For example, Céline Masoni’s article, “From Seriality to Transmediality: A Socio-narrative Approach of a Skilful and Literate Audience,” documents fans’ highly strategic participatory practices. From her observations of and interviews with fans, Masoni theorizes the types of media literacy and social as well as technological competencies cultivated through transmedia fan practices. Olivier Servais and Sarah Sepulchre’s article similarly describes a long-term ethnography of fan transmedia activity, including interviews with fans and participant-observation of the MMORPG (Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game) Game of Thrones Ascent (2013). Servais and Sepulchre find that most people in their interviews are not “committed” fans, but rather casual readers and viewers who follow transmedia extensions sporadically. By focusing on this group, they widen the existing research which often focuses on or assumes a committed audience like the skilful and literate fans discussed by Masoni.Servais and Sepulchre’s results suggest that these viewers may be less likely to seek out all transmedia extensions but readily accept and adapt unexpected elements, such as the media appearances of actors, to add to their serial experiences of the storyworld. In a parallel research protocol observing the Game of Thrones Ascent MMORPG, Servais and Sepulchre report that the most highly-skilled players exhibit few behaviours associated with immersion in the storyworld, but the majority of less-skilled players use their gameplay choices to increase immersion by, for example, choosing a player name that evokes the narrative. As a result, Servais and Sepulchre shed light upon the activities of transmedia audiences who are not necessarily deeply committed to the entire transmedia network, and yet who nonetheless make deliberate choices to collect their preferred narrative elements and increase their own immersion.Two contributors elucidate forms of transmedia that upset the common emphasis on storyworlds with film or TV as the core property or “mothership” (Scott). In her article “Transmedia Storyworlds, Literary Theory, Games,” Joyce Goggin maps the history of intersections between experimental literature and ludology. As a result, she questions the continuing dichotomy between narratology and ludology in game studies to argue for a more broadly transmedia strategy, in which the same storyworld may be simultaneously narrative and ludic. Such a theory can incorporate a great deal of what might otherwise be unproblematically treated as literature, opening up the book to interrogation as an inherently transmedial medium.L.J. Maher similarly examines the serial narrative structures that may take shape in a transmedia storyworld centred on music rather than film or TV. In her article “You Got Spirit, Kid: Transmedial Life-Writing Across Time and Space,” Maher charts the music, graphic novels, and fan interactions that comprise the Coheed and Cambria band storyworld. In particular, Maher emphasizes the importance of autobiography for Coheed and Cambria, which bridges between fictional and non-fictional narrative elements. This interplay remains undertheorized within transmedia scholarship, although a few have begun to explicate the use of transmedia life-writing in an activist context (Cati and Piredda; Van Luyn and Klaebe; Riggs). As a result, Maher widens the scope of existing transmedia theory by more thoroughly connecting fictional and autobiographical elements in the same storyworld and considering how serial transmedia storytelling structures may differ when the core component is music.The final three articles take a more experimental approach that actively challenges the existing boundaries of transmedia scholarship. Catherine Lord’s article, “Serial Nuns: Michelle Williams Gamaker’s The Fruit Is There to Be Eaten as Serial and Trans-serial,” explores the unique storytelling structures of a cluster of independent films that traverse time, space, medium, and gender. Although not a traditional transmedia project, since the network includes a novel and film adaptations and extensions by different directors as well as real-world locations and histories, Lord challenges transmedia theorists to imagine storyworlds that include popular history, independent production, and spatial performances and practices. Lord argues that the main character’s trans identity provides an embodied and theoretical pivot within the storyworld, which invites audiences to accept a position of radical mobility where all fixed expectations about the separation between categories of flora and fauna, centre and periphery, the present and the past, as well as authorized and unauthorized extensions, dissolve.In his article “Non-Fiction Transmedia: Seriality and Forensics in Media Sport,” Markus Stauff extends the concept of serial transmedia storyworlds to sport, focusing on an audience-centred perspective. For the most part, transmedia has been theorized with fictional storyworlds as the prototypical examples. A growing number of scholars, including Arnau Gifreu-Castells and Siobhan O'Flynn, enrich our understanding of transmedia storytelling by exploring non-fiction examples, but these are commonly restricted to the documentary genre (Freeman; Gifreu-Castells, Misek, and Verbruggen; Karlsen; Kerrigan and Velikovsky). Very few scholars comment on the transmedia nature of sport coverage and fandom, and when they do so it is often within the framework of transmedia news coverage (Gambarato, Alzamora, and Tárcia; McClearen; Waysdorf). Stauff’s article thus provides a welcome addition to the existing scholarship in this field by theorizing how sport fans construct a user-centred serial transmedia storyworld by piecing together narrative elements across media sources, embodied experiences, and the serialized ritual of sport seasons. In doing so, he points toward ways in which non-fiction transmedia may significantly differ from fictional storyworlds, but he also enriches our understanding of an audience-centred perspective on the construction of transmedia serial narratives.In his artistic practice, Robert Lawrence may most profoundly stretch the existing parameters of transmedia theory. Lawrence’s article, “Locate, Combine, Contradict, Iterate: Serial Strategies for PostInternet Art,” details his decades-long interrogation of transmedia seriality through performative and participatory forms of art that bridge digital space, studio space, and public space. While theatre and fine arts have often been considered through the theoretical lens of intermediality (Bennett, Boenisch, Kattenbelt, Vandsoe), the nexus of transmedia, seriality, and narrative enables Lawrence to describe the complex, interconnected web of planned and unplanned extensions of his hybrid digital and physical installations, which often last for decades and incorporate a global scope. Lawrence thus takes the strategies of engagement that are perhaps more familiar to transmedia theorists from corporate viral marketing campaigns and turns them toward civic ends (Anyiwo, Bourdaa, Hardy, Hassler-Forest, Scolari, Sokolova, Stork). As such, Lawrence’s artistic practice challenges theorists of transmedia and intermedia to consider the kinds of social and political “interventions” that artists and citizens can stage through the networked possibilities of transmedia expression and how the impact of such projects can be amplified through serial repetition.Together, the whole collection opens new pathways for transmedia scholarship, more deeply explores how transmedia narration complicates understandings of seriality, and constructs an international, interdisciplinary dialogue that brings often isolated conversations into contact. In particular, this issue enriches the existing scholarship on independent, artistic, and non-fiction transmedia, while also proposing some important limitations, exceptions, and critiques to existing scholarship featuring corporate transmedia projects with a commercial, top-down structure and a strong auteur-like creator. These diverse case studies and perspectives enable us to understand more inclusively the structures and social functions of transmedia in the pre-digital age, to theorize more robustly how audiences experience transmedia in the current era of experimentation, and to imagine more broadly a complex future for transmedia seriality wherein professionals, artists, and amateurs all engage in an iterative, inclusive process of creative and civic storytelling, transcending artificial borders imposed by discipline, nationalism, capitalism, and medium.ReferencesAnyiwo, U. Melissa. "It’s Not Television, It’s Transmedia Storytelling: Marketing the ‘Real’World of True Blood." True Blood: Investigating Vampires and Southern Gothic. Ed. Brigid Cherry. New York: IB Tauris, 2012. 157-71.Barthes, Roland. "The Death of the Author." Image, Music, Text. Trans. Stephen Heath. Basingstoke: Macmillian, 1988. 142-48.Bennett, Jill. "Aesthetics of Intermediality." 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Introduction The recipe is more than just a list of ingredients and the instructions on how to prepare a particular dish. Recipes also are, as Janet Floyd and Laurel Foster argue, a form of narrative that tells a myriad of stories, “of family sagas and community, of historical and cultural moments and also of personal histories and narratives of self” (Floyd and Forster 2). Among the most intimate and personal sources of recipes are manuscript cookbooks. These typically contained original handwritten recipes created by the author as well as those shared by family and friends; some recipes were copied from published cookbooks or clipped out of newspapers and magazines. However, these books are more than a mere collection of recipes and domestic instructions, they also paint a unique and vivid picture of the life of their authors. These manuscript cookbooks were a common sight in many Australian colonial kitchens, yet they are a rarely examined and rich archival source that provides a valuable insight into foodways, material culture, and the lives and social relationships of the women who created them. This article will examine the manuscript cookbook created by Phillis Clark in the Darling Downs during the 1860s. Through a close examination of Clark’s manuscript cookbook, this article will explore colonial domestic habits and the cultural context in which they were formed. It will also highlight the historical value of manuscript cookbooks as social texts that chronicle daily life, both inside and outside the kitchen, in colonial Australia. A Colonial Woman Phillis Clark was born in Tasmania in 1836. She was the daughter of Charles Seal, the pioneer of the whaling industry in that state. In 1858 she married Charles George Clark, the eldest son of a well-known Tasmanian family. Both the Seal and Clark families were at the centre of social and political life in Tasmania. In 1861, the couple moved to Talgai, twenty two kilometres north-west of Warwick in the Darling Downs region of Queensland. Here, Charles Clark established himself as a storekeeper and became a partner in the Ellinthorp Steam Flour Mills, the first successful flour mill in Queensland (Waterson 3). He also represented Warwick in the Queensland Legislative assembly between 1871 and 1873. Clark’s brother, George Clark, also settled in the area together with his wife and family. In 1868, both families set up home in adjoining properties known as East Talgai and West Talgai. This joint property, with its well manicured gardens, English trees, and fruit orchard, has been described as a small oasis “in an empty, brown and dusty summer landscape” (Waterson, Squatter 19). The Manuscript Sometime during this period Clark began to compile her very own manuscript cookbook. The front of Clark’s manuscript is dated 1866, yet there is ample evidence to suggest that she began work on this manuscript some years earlier. Clark was scrupulous in acknowledging the sources of her recipes, a habit common to many manuscript cookbook authors (Newlyn 35). She also initialled her own creations, firstly with P.S., for her maiden name Phillis Seal, and later P.S.C. for Phillis Seal Clark, her married name. By 1866 Clarke had been married for eight years so it can be assumed that she commenced her manuscript some time before 1858. A number of the recipes that appear in the manuscript appear to be credited to people living in Tasmania. Furthermore, a number of the newspaper clippings found in her manuscript can be dated to before 1866, including one for 1861. The manuscript itself is a hard bound and lined notebook, sturdy enough to withstand the rigours of daily use in the kitchen. The majority of recipes are handwritten but there are also a number of recipes clipped from newspapers interspaced within the manuscript. The handwritten recipes are in a neat copperplate style and all appear to be written in the same hand. The recipes are not found in distinct sections, although there are some small clusters of particular types of recipes, highlighting the fact that they were added to the manuscript over a period of time. At the front of the manuscript there is a detailed index noting the page number on which each recipe is to be found. The recipes themselves follow the standard conventions of the period. The Sources The sources from which Clark gathered some of the recipes in her manuscript indicate the variety of texts that were available to her. There are a number of newspaper clippings pasted in the pages of her manuscript for a range of both recipes for foods as well as the so-called domestic remedies (medicines) and receipts for household products. Amongst the food recipes there are to be found instructions in the making of cream cheese in the Irish manner and a recipe for stewed shoulder of mutton as well as two different methods for preparing kangaroo. While it is impossible to fully know what newspapers all these clippings have been taken from, at least one of them came from the Darling Downs Gazette and General Advertiser and it is likely that some of them might also have come from a number of the local Warwick papers (one which was founded by her brother-in-law George Clark) that were in publication during Clark’s residence in the area. Clark also utilised a number of published cookbooks as sources for some of the recipes in her own manuscripts. Like most Australians until the last few decades of the nineteenth century, Clark would have mainly resorted to the British cookbooks that were available. The two most commonly acknowledged cookbooks in her manuscript were Enquire Within Upon Everything and Eliza Acton’s. Enquire Within Upon Everything was an immensely popular general household guide amassing eighty-nine editions in a little over forty years in print. It contained information on a plethora of subjects (over three thousand individual entries) including such topics as etiquette, first aid, domestic hints, and recipes. It first appeared on the British market in 1856, under the editorship of Robert Kemp Philp, and became available in Australia in the same year. Booksellers in the Darling Downs advertised copies of the book for the price of three shillings and six pence. Eliza Acton, for her part, was one of Britain’s leading cookbook authors. Her books were widely available throughout the colonies with copies advertised for sale by J. Walch and Sons booksellers in Hobart (‘Advertising’ 1). Extracts from her cookbook Modern Cookery for Private Families began to appear in Australian newspapers only months after it first was published in Britain in 1845 (‘Bullion’ 4). Although Modern Cookery did not provide any recipes directly catering for Australian conditions, its simple and straightforward approach to cookery made it an invaluable resource in the colonial kitchen. Such was the popularity and reputation of Acton’s work that in the preface to Australia’s first cookbook, The English and Australian Cookery Book, the author, Tasmanian born Edward Abbott, stated that he hoped that his cook book would posses “all the advantages of Mrs. Acton’s work” (Abbott vi). The range of printed sources contained within Clark’s manuscript indicate that women in colonial households were far from isolated from the culinary trends occurring in other parts of Australia and the wider British empire. The Recipes Like many Australian women of her class and generation, Phillis Clark reproduced the predominant British food culture in her kitchen. The great majority of recipes contained in her manuscript are for typically English dishes, particularly those for sweet dishes such as biscuits, cakes, and puddings. Plum pudding, trifle, and custard pudding are all featured in her book. As well, many of the savoury dishes such as curry, roast beef, and Yorkshire pudding similarly reflect the British palate. In There is No Taste like Home: The Food of Empire, Adele Wessell argues that the maintenance of British food habits in Australia was a device to reaffirm “cultural and historical bonds and sustain a shared sense of British identity” (811). However, as in many other rural kitchens, native ingredients also found a place. Her manuscript included a number of recipes for the preparation of kangaroo and detailed instructions for the butchering of the animal. Clark’s recipe for “Jugged Hare or Kangaroo” bares a close resemblance to the one that appears in Edward Abbott’s cookbook. Clark’s father and Abbott were from the same, small social milieu in colonial Hobart and were both active in the same political causes. This raises the intriguing possibility that Phillis also knew Abbott and came into contact with some of his culinary ideas. Australians consumed all manners of native ingredients, not only as a matter of necessity but also as a matter of choice. The inclusion of freshly killed native game in Clark’s kitchen would have served to alleviate the monotony of the salted beef and mutton that were common staples during this period. The distinct Australian flavour that began to appear in manuscript cookbooks like Clark’s would later be replicated in their printed counterparts. Australian cookbooks published in the last decades of the nineteenth century demonstrate the importance of native ingredients in colonial kitchens (Singley 37). The Darling Downs region had been a popular destination for German migrants from the 1850s and Clark’s manuscript contained a number of recipes for German dishes. This included one for the traditional German Christmas cake Lebkuchen as well as for various German puddings and biscuits. Clark also included an elaborate recipe for making ham or bacon in the traditional Westphalian fashion. This was a laborious process that involved vigorously rubbing salt, sugar, and beer into the leg of ham every day for a fortnight after which it is then hung to dry for a couple of days and then smoked. Katie Hume, a fellow Darling Downs resident and a close friend of the extended Clark family described feeling like a “gute verstandige Hausfrau” (a good sensible housewife) after salting 112 pounds of pork she had purchased from a neighbour (152). While, unlike their counterparts in the Barossa valley in South Australia, the Germans who lived in the Darling Downs area did not leave a significant mark on the local culinary landscape, the inclusion of German recipes in Clark’s manuscript indicates that there was not only some cross-cultural transmission of culinary knowledge, but also some willingness to go beyond traditional British fare. Many, more mundane recipes also populate Clark’s manuscript. “Toad in a Hole”, “Mutton Pie” and “Stewed Sirloin” all merit an entry. Yet, even with such simple dishes, Clark demonstrated a keen eye for detail. This is attested by her method for the preparation of a simple dish of roasted pumpkin: “Cut into slices 1 inch thick and about 5 inches long, have ready a baking dish with boiling fat—lay the slices in it so that the fat will cover them and bake for 20 minutes (by fat I mean good dripping) Half an hour will not bake them too much. They ought to be brown” (Clark 13). Whilst Clark’s manuscript is not indicative of the foodways of all classes across Queensland society, it does provide some insight as to what was consumed at the table of a well-heeled rural household. As the wife of a prominent businessman and a local dignitary, Phillis Clark would have also undoubtedly been called upon to play the role of hostess and to entertain her husband’s commercial and political acquaintances. Her manuscript also reflects the overwhelmingly British nature of colonial Australian foodways despite the intrusion of some foreign dishes. As Anne Murcott argues, the preparation and consumption of food provides a way through which individuals can express the more abstract significance of cultural values and social systems (204). The Clark household also showed some interest in producing a broad range of products in the home. There are, for example, a number of recipes for beverages including those for non-alcoholic ginger beers and flavoured cordials. They were also far from abstemious, with recipes for wine, mead, and ale included in the manuscript. This last recipe was given to her by her brother Alfred who, according to Clark, “understands brewing and therefore I think it can be depended upon” (Clark 43). Clark also bottled her own fruit, made a wide range of jams, including grape and mock melon, as well as making her own butter, confectionery, and vinegar. The production of goods like these within the home indicates the level of self-reliance in many colonial households, particularly those finding themselves far from the convenience of shops and markets. Many culinary historians argue that there exists a significant time lag between the initial appearance and consumption of a particular dish in a society and its subsequent appearance in the pages of a cookbook. This time lag can be between forty and 150 years long (Mennell 44; Mason 23). However, manuscript cookbooks reflect the immediacy of eating practices. The very personal nature of manuscript cookbooks would suggest that the recipes included within their pages were ones that the author intended to use in her own kitchen. Moreover, from the reciprocal nature of recipe sharing that is evident from these types of cookbooks it can be concluded that the recipes in Clark’s manuscript were ones that, at least in her own social milieu, were in common usage. In her manuscript Clark clearly noted those recipes which she especially liked or otherwise found useful. Many recipes throughout the manuscript have been marked as “proved” indicating that Clark had used and tested them at some stage. A number of them have also been favourably annotated as being “delicious”, “very nice”, “the best”, and “very good”. Amongst the number of recipes for “Soda Cake” that feature in the manuscript Clarke clearly indicates that “Number 1 is the best”. However, she was not averse to commenting on recipes and altering them to suit her taste. In a recipe for “A nice light Cake”, for example, Clark noted that the addition of a “little peel and currants is an improvement” (89). This form of marginal intrusion was a common practice amongst many women and it can even be seen in the margins of many published cookbooks (Theophano 186). These annotations, according to Sandra Sherman, are not transgressive, since the manuscripts are not authored “by” anyone (Sherman 121). In fact, annotations personalise the recipe and confirm the compiler’s confidence in it (Sherman 121). Not Just Food: ‘Domestic Receipts’ As noted above, Clark’s manuscript contained more than just recipes for food and drink. Many of them are “Domestic Receipts” that reflect the complex nature of running a household in rural Australia. Some of Clark’s domestic receipts are in the form of newspaper clippings and are general instructions for the manufacture of simple household products such as a “ready to use glue” and a home-made tooth powder. Others are handwritten and copied from other domestic advice books or were given to Clark by family and friends. A recipe for manufacturing “blacking for stoves”, essential in the maintenance of cast iron stoves, was, for example, culled from Enquire Within Upon Everything. Here, with some authorial intrusion, Clark includes her own list of measured ingredients to prepare the mixture. An intriguing method for the “artificial preparation of ice” involving the use of ammonium nitrate and bicarbonate of soda was given to Clark by Mrs. McKeachie, the wife of Charles Clark’s business partner. Clark also showed an interest in beekeeping and in raising turkeys, with instructions for both these tasks included in her manuscript. The wide range of miscellaneous receipts featured in Clark’s book highlights the breadth of activities that were carried out in many homes in rural Australia. A hint of Clark’s artistic side is also in evidence, with detailed instructions on how to create delicate fern impressions on paper also included in her book. As with many other women in colonial Australia, Clark was expected to take on the role of caregiver when members of her family fell ill or were injured. Her manuscript included a number of recipes for “domestic remedies”, another common trope in books of this kind as well as in their printed counterparts. These remedies included recipes for a cough mixture composed of linseed, liquorice, and water and a liniment to treat rheumatism which was made by mixing rape seed oil and turpentine with a hefty dose of laudanum. Clark used olive oil in a number of medical recipes to treat burns and scalds. As well, treatments for diphtheria, cholera, and diarrhoea feature prominently in her manuscript. The Darling Downs had been subject to a number of outbreaks of dysentery and cholera during Clark’s residency in the area (Waterson, Squatter 71). For “a pain in the chest” Clark recommended the following: “a piece of brown paper spread with tallow and placed on the chest” (69).The inclusion of these domestic remedies and Clark’s obvious concerns for her family’s health is particularly poignant given her personal history. Her family was plagued by misfortune and illness and she lost three of her ten children in a six-year period including two within just months of each other. Clark herself would die during childbirth in 1874. Sharing and Caring The word “recipe” has its origins in the Latin recipere meaning to “receive”. In order to receive there has to be, by implication, someone doing the giving. A recipe signifies an exchange and a connection between individuals. The sharing of recipes was a common activity for many women in nineteenth century Australia. Wilhelmina Rawson, Queensland’s first published cookbook author, was keenly aware of the manner in which women shared recipes and culinary knowledge. This act of reciprocity, she argued, not only helped to ease the isolation of bush living but also allowed each individual to be “benefited by the cleverness of the whole number” (14). For many, food often has a deeply private and personal component, being prepared and consumed within the realm of the home. However, food is also a communal experience and is openly shared through rituals, feasts, the contexts in which it is bought and sold, and, most importantly, reciprocal exchange. In her manuscript, Clark acknowledged a number of different individuals as the source for the recipes she included within its pages. The convention of acknowledging the sources of recipes in manuscript cookbooks functions as a way to assert the recipe’s authority and to ensure that they are proven (Sherman 122). This act of acknowledgement also locates Clark within a social network of women who not only shared recipes but also, one can imagine, many of the vicissitudes of domestic life in a remote rural setting. In her study of women’s manuscript cookbooks, entitled Eat My Words: Reading Women’s Lives Through the Cookbooks They Wrote, Janet Theophano describes these texts as “the maps of the social and cultural life they inhabited” (13). This circulation of recipes allowed women to share their knowledge, skills, and creativity. Those who received and used these recipes not only engaged in a conversation with the writer of these recipes but also formed a connection with a broader community that allowed them to learn more about themselves and the world. Conclusion The manuscript cookbook created by Phillis Clark is a fascinating prism through which to explore domestic life in colonial Australia. The recipes contained in Clark’s manuscript reflect the eating habits of her own family and those of a particular social class in Queensland. They not only demonstrate the tenacity of British foodways in Australia but also show the degree of culinary adventurism that existed in some homes. The personal, almost autobiographical nature of manuscript cookbooks also provides an intimate view in the life of its creator. In the splattered pages of Phillis Clark’s book we can read the many travails, joys, and tragedies of her life. References Abbott, Edward. The English and Australian Cookery Book: Cookery for the Many, as Well as for the Upper Ten Thousand. London: Sampson Low, Son, and Marston, 1864. ‘Advertising’. Launceston Examiner 9 Mar. 1858: 1. ‘Boullion, The Common Soup of France’. The Sydney Morning Herald 22 Aug. 1845: 4. 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