Journal articles on the topic 'Somers Town'

The Office for National Statistics estimates that between December 2003 and June 2009 the Polish-born population of the United Kingdom increased from 75,000 to 503,000. These statistics provide a contextual background for Shane Meadows’ Somers Town (2008) , a film which portrays a British teenager, Tomo (Thomas Turgoose) who befriends a young Polish photographer, Marek (Piotr Jagiełło), and his father, who is a guest-worker at the King's Cross reconstruction site. This article explores the ways in which Somers Town responds to increased transnationalism and mobility (be it migration or tourism) both in its thematics and through its context of production, and explores the effects of globalisation on British working-class masculinity. In particular, this article looks at how the film offers Polish migrant working-class masculinity as a nostalgic pre-modern foil, which embodies many characteristics of the old British working class. While Meadows' films consistently suggest that British working-class fathers have been harmed irretrievably by the Thatcherite years and post-industrial decline, the working-class community of migrant workers (defined primarily by its strong work ethic) seems to offer a (mythologised) model of good fatherhood and stable masculine identity. In so doing, the film explores what Anthony Giddens calls the move from modern to late modern society, and confirms the preoccupation of Meadows' oeuvre with nostalgia.

The middle years of the nineteenth century are notable in the history of Catholicism in England for the development of the ‘papal aggression’ crisis. Catholic emancipation had been met with suspicion by Protestant groups and this suspicion grew into violent antipathy with the publication by Nicholas Wiseman of ‘Ex Porta Flaminia.’ At the same time that this crisis was emerging, Catholic charitable organizations were also attempting to garner support from the state for the building of Catholic schools. With a boom in the poor, urban population, fuelled by the arrival of Irish refugees, this assistance was urgently required. In the midst of this a small school in the heart of London became the focus of a cause célèbre. The belief that this school had been funded by lucre, defrauded from dying and vulnerable members of the Somers Town community by simonist priests, provided the source of a widespread conspiracy theory. The result of this conspiracy theory was a lawsuit, brought in 1851 by the relatives of a deceased benefactor of the school, against the newly enthroned Cardinal Wiseman. Metairie vs. Wiseman became one of the most celebrated and cited cases of the early Victorian era.

Six African students enact a somber, silent dance. They stage a series of striking images at the base of South African artist Willie Bester's sculptureSara Baartman, in the Chancellor Oppenheimer Library at the University of Cape Town (UCT). Their faces and bodies smeared with black paint, the students articulate their protest ofSara Baartmanin explicitly racial terms, aligning their critiques of economic, colonial, and racial oppression under the sign of blackness.

The year 2009 was challenging for Papua New Guinea. Domestically, the most serious political issues were moves to depose Michael Somare and anti-Chinese rioting in major towns. The economy was in fairly good shape and the long-awaited gas pipeline was finally off the ground.

Hierdie opskrif laat min of meer reg geskied aan ’n belangrike baken in die ontwikkeling van die Afrikaanse prosa aan die einde van ’n dekade wat begin het met die meer tradisionele klem op die persoonlike, soos in die kortverhale van Hennie Aucamp en M.C. Botha. Nie dat dit by die private ache bly steek het nie! Sonder gevaar van teenspraak kan ’n mens hierdie roman ná die resepsie van Somer II en die ooreenkoms wat dit daarmee toon, as postmodernistiese teks benader. In die loop van hierdie bespreking sal om die beurt aan kernwoorde in die opskrif aandag gegee word.

-Monika Arnez, Keith Foulcher ,Clearing a space; Postcolonial readings of modern Indonesian literature. Leiden: KITlV Press, 2002, 381 pp. [Verhandelingen 202.], Tony Day (eds) -R.H. Barnes, Thomas Reuter, The house of our ancestors; Precedence and dualism in highland Balinese society. Leiden: KITLV Press, 2002, viii + 359 pp. [Verhandelingen 198.] -Freek Colombijn, Adriaan Bedner, Administrative courts in Indonesia; A socio-legal study. The Hague: Kluwer law international, 2001, xiv + 300 pp. [The London-Leiden series on law, administration and development 6.] -Manuelle Franck, Peter J.M. Nas, The Indonesian town revisited. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian studies, 2002, vi + 428 pp. [Southeast Asian dynamics.] -Hans Hägerdal, Ernst van Veen, Decay or defeat? An inquiry into the Portuguese decline in Asia 1580-1645. Leiden: Research school of Asian, African and Amerindian studies, 2000, iv + 306 pp. [Studies on overseas history, 1.] -Rens Heringa, Genevieve Duggan, Ikats of Savu; Women weaving history in eastern Indonesia. Bangkok: White Lotus, 2001, xiii + 151 pp. [Studies in the material culture of Southeast Asia 1.] -August den Hollander, Kees Groeneboer, Een vorst onder de taalgeleerden; Herman Nuebronner van der Tuuk; Afgevaardigde voor Indië van het Nederlandsch Bijbelgenootschap 1847-1873; Een bronnenpublicatie. Leiden: KITlV Uitgeverij, 2002, 965 pp. -Edwin Jurriëns, William Atkins, The politics of Southeast Asia's new media. London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2002, xii + 235 pp. -Victor T. King, Poline Bala, Changing border and identities in the Kelabit highlands; Anthropological reflections on growing up in a Kelabit village near an international frontier. Kota Samarahan, Sarawak: Unit Penerbitan Universiti Malayasia Sarawak, Institute of East Asian studies, 2002, xiv + 142 pp. [Dayak studies contemporary society series 1.] -Han Knapen, Bernard Sellato, Innermost Borneo; Studies in Dayak cultures. Singapore: Singapore University Press, 2002, 221 pp. -Michael Laffan, Rudolf Mrázek, Engineers of happy land; Technology and nationalism in a colony. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2002, xvii + 311 pp. [Princeton studies in culture/power/history 15.] -Johan Meuleman, Michael Francis Laffan, Islamic nationhood and colonial Indonesia; The umma below the winds. London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003, xvi + 294 pp. [SOAS/RoutledgeCurzon studies on the Middle East 1.] -Rudolf Mrázek, Heidi Dahles, Tourism, heritage and national culture in Java; Dilemmas of a local community. Leiden: International Institute for Asian studies/Curzon, 2001, xvii + 257 pp. -Anke Niehof, Kathleen M. Adams ,Home and hegemony; Domestic service and identity politics in South and Southeast Asia. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2000, 307 pp., Sara Dickey (eds) -Robert van Niel, H.W. van den Doel, Afscheid van Indië; De val van het Nederlandse imperium in Azië. Amsterdam: Prometheus, 2001, 475 pp. -Anton Ploeg, Bruce M. Knauft, Exchanging the past; A rainforest world of before and after. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002, x + 303 pp. -Harry A. Poeze, Nicolaas George Bernhard Gouka, De petitie-Soetardjo; Een Hollandse misser in Indië? (1936-1938). Amsterdam: Rozenberg, 303 pp. -Harry A. Poeze, Jaap Harskamp (compiler), The Indonesian question; The Dutch/Western response to the struggle for independence in Indonesia 1945-1950; an annotated catalogue of primary materials held in the British Library. London; The British Library, 2001, xx + 210 pp. -Elisabeth Schröder-Butterfill, Jan Breman ,Good times and bad times in rural Java; Case study of socio-economic dynamics in two villages towards the end of the twentieth century. Leiden: KITLV Press, 2002, xii + 330 pp. [Verhandelingen 195.], Gunawan Wiradi (eds) -Mariëtte van Selm, L.P. van Putten, Ambitie en onvermogen; Gouverneurs-generaal van Nederlands-Indië 1610-1796. Rotterdam: ILCO-productions, 2002, 192 pp. -Heather Sutherland, William Cummings, Making blood white; Historical transformations in early modern Makassar. Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press, 2002, xiii + 257 pp. -Gerard Termorshuizen, Olf Praamstra, Een feministe in de tropen; De Indische jaren van Mina Kruseman. Leiden: KITlV Uitgeverij, 2003, 111 p. [Boekerij 'Oost en West'.] -Jaap Timmer, Dirk A.M. Smidt, Kamoro art; Tradition and innovation in a New Guinea culture; With an essay on Kamoro life and ritual by Jan Pouwer. Amsterdam: KIT Publishers/Rijksmuseum voor Volkenkunde, 2003, 157 pp. -Sikko Visscher, Amy L. Freedman, Political participation and ethnic minorities; Chinese overseas in Malaysia, Indonesia and the United States. London: Routledge, 2000, xvi + 231 pp. -Reed L. Wadley, Mary Somers Heidhues, Golddiggers, farmers, and traders in the 'Chinese districts' of West Kalimantan, Indonesia. Ithaca, NY: Southeast Asia program, Cornell University, 2003, 309 pp. -Edwin Wieringa, Jan Parmentier ,Peper, Plancius en porselein; De reis van het schip Swarte Leeuw naar Atjeh en Bantam, 1601-1603. Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 2003, 237 pp. [Werken van de Linschoten-Vereeniging 101.], Karel Davids, John Everaert (eds) -Edwin Wieringa, Leonard Blussé ,Kennis en Compagnie; De Verenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie en de moderne wetenschap. Amsterdam: Balans, 2002, 191 pp., Ilonka Ooms (eds) -Edwin Wieringa, Femme S. Gaastra, De geschiedenis van de VOC. Zutphen; Wal_burg Pers, 2002, 192 pp.

AbstractIn this paper a new interpretation of the first stasimon of Euripides’Troadesis proposed, based on a plausible relationship with Sappho’s F 44 Voigt. Sappho’s version of the wedding of Hektor and Andromache seems to be poetically evoked by the women of the chorus right before Andromache’s arrival on stage in the second episode of the play. The lyric, recalling the welcoming of the Trojan Horse to the town and the ensuing communal revelry, conjures up the civic celebrations at the nuptial procession and reception of the happy couple. The striking contrast between the lyric past and the tragic present casts an even more somber light not only on the widow of Hektor but also on the Trojan women themselves who form the chorus of the play.

O Pioneers! begins with the wind, which is threatening to blow away Hanover, Nebraska, a little town serving homestead settlements. On their return to the Bergson homestead, Alexandra, her brother Emil, and their neighbor Carl Linstrum pass homesteads, whose sod houses, lowslung shelters made of the land itself, crouch in hollows to survive the elements, their very materials denoting their subjection to nature. “The great fact was the land itself,” “a wild thing that had its ugly moods; and no one knew when they were likely to come, or why,” only that “the land wanted … to preserve its own fierce strength.” Nature's unpredictable impulses to self-preservation “overwhelm[ed] the little beginnings of human society that struggled in its somber wastes.” In this novel, then, Willa Cather introduces the relation between nature and culture within the sublime tradition, in which the experience of nature discloses the limits of human faculties and threatens their health and continuance.

O Pioneers! begins with the wind, which is threatening to blow away Hanover, Nebraska, a little town serving homestead settlements. On their return to the Bergson homestead, Alexandra, her brother Emil, and their neighbor Carl Linstrum pass homesteads, whose sod houses, lowslung shelters made of the land itself, crouch in hollows to survive the elements, their very materials denoting their subjection to nature. “The great fact was the land itself,” “a wild thing that had its ugly moods; and no one knew when they were likely to come, or why,” only that “the land wanted … to preserve its own fierce strength.” Nature's unpredictable impulses to self-preservation “overwhelm[ed] the little beginnings of human society that struggled in its somber wastes.” In this novel, then, Willa Cather introduces the relation between nature and culture within the sublime tradition, in which the experience of nature discloses the limits of human faculties and threatens their health and continuance.

The aim of the study was to show how theatre may yield insight into living close to persons with dementia. Six focus group interviews with health providers and close relatives were conducted. The informants, recruited by the local dementia associations and nursing homes in three Norwegian towns, were invited to see the theatre play Our Wonderful World. Further, they were asked to send written reflections from during and after the play to the project group within one week. Transcripts from the interviews and reflection notes were analysed inspired by a phenomenological approach. After discussion and reflection on each member’s preliminary themes, a common meaning of the informants’ experiences were gained. Informants gave written informed consent and The Norwegian Social Sciences Data Services assessed the project. Data showed that the two groups of informants had different knowledge of the patients’ earlier life and thoughts of the future. They became aware of how different they experienced their responsibility, and they expressed different attitudes as to how open one should be about the illness. Findings are summarised in four themes: Bright memories and sombre views of the future, Life responsibility versus professional responsibility and Shielding versus openness. The drama creates emotional engagement that enabled the informants to transcend their personal experiences and gain new knowledge.

Syed Muhd Khairudin Aljunied, Rethinking Raffles; A study of Stamford Raffles’ discourse on religions amongst Malays. (Nathan Porath) Walter Angst, Wayang Indonesia; Die phantastische Welt des indonesischen Figurentheaters/The fantastic world of Indonesian puppet theatre. (Dick van der Meij) Adrienne Kappler and others, James Cook and the exploration of the Pacific. (H.J.M. Claesen) Aurel Croissant, Beate Martin and Sascha Kneip (eds), The politics of death; Political violence in Southeast Asia. (Freek Colombijn) Frank Dhont, Kevin W. Fogg and Mason C. Hoadley (eds), Towards an inclusive democratic Indonesian society; Bridging the gap between state uniformity and multicultural identity patterns. (Alexander Claver) Bronwen Douglas and Chris Ballard (eds), Foreign bodies; Oceania and the science of race, 1750-1940. (H.J.M. Claesen) Ricky Ganang, Jay Crain, and Vicki Pearson-Rounds, Kemaloh Lundayeh-English dictionary and bibliographic list of materials relating to the Lundayeh-Lun Bawang-Kelabit and related groups of Sarawak, Sabah, Brunei and East Kalimantan. (Michael Boutin) Jeffrey Hadler, Muslims and matriarchs; Cultural resilience in Indonesia through Jihad and Colonialism. (Franz von Benda-Beckmann) Uli Kozok, Kitab undang-undang Tanjung Tanah: Naskah Melayu yang tertua. (Arlo Griffiths) Alfonds van der Kraan, Murder and mayhem in seventeenth-century Cambodia; Anthony van Diemen vs. King Ramadhipati I. (Jeroen Rikkerink) Jean Michaud, ‘Incidental’ ethnographers; French Catholic missions on the Tonkin-Yunnan frontier, 1880-1930. (Nicholas Tapp) M.C. Ricklefs, Polarising Javanese society; Islamic and other visions (c. 1830-1930). (Matthew Isaac Cohen) Stuart Robson, Arjunawiwāha; The marriage of Arjuna of Mpu Kaṇwa. (Andrea Acri) László Székely and István Radnai, Dit altijd alleen zijn; Verhalen over het leven van planters en koelies in Deli (1914-1930). (Adrienne Zuiderweg) Patricia Tjiook-Liem (Giok Kiauw Nio Liem), De rechtspositie der Chinezen in Nederlands-Indië 1848-1942; Wetgevingsbeleid tussen beginsel en belang. (Mary Somers Heidhues) Zhou Daguan, A record of Cambodia: the land and its people. (Un Leang) REVIEW ESSAY Longitudinal studies in Javanese performing arts Benjamin Brinner, Music in Central Java; Experiencing music, expressing culture. Barbara Hatley, Javanese performances on an Indonesian stage; Contesting culture, embracing change. Felicia Hughes-Freeland, Embodied communities; Dance traditions and change in Java. (Matthew Isaac Cohen) REVIEW ESSAY Development and reform in Vietnam Stéphanie Balme and Mark Stephanie (eds), Vietnam’s new order; International perspectives on the state and reform in Vietnam. Sujian Guo, The political economy of Asian transition from communism. Ian Jeffries, Vietnam: a guide to economic and political developments. Pietro Masina, Vietnam’s development strategies. (Tran Quang Anh) KORTE SIGNALERINGEN Ulbe Bosma, Indiëgangers; Verhalen van Nederlanders die naar Indië trokken. Clara Brinkgreve, Met Indië verbonden; Een verhaal van vier generaties 1849-1949. Jack Botermans en Heleen Tichler, Het vergeten Indië; Stille getuigen van het dagelijks leven in het Indië van toen. Robin te Slaa en Edwin Klijn, De NSB; Ontstaan en opkomst van de Nationaal-Socialistische Beweging, 1931-1935. Mark Loderichs, Margaret Leidelmeijer, Johan van Langen en Jan Kompagnie, Verhalen in Documenten; Over het afscheid van Indië, 1940-1950. Frederik Erens en Adrienne Zuiderweg, Linggadjati, brug naar de toekomst; Soetan Sjahrir als een van de grondleggers van het vrije Indonesië. Peter Schumacher, met medewerking van Gerard de Boer, De zaak Aernout; Hardnekkige mythes rond een Indische moord ontrafeld. Cas Oorthuys, Een staat in wording; Fotoreportage van Cas Oorthuys over het Indonesië van 1947. René Kok, Erik Somers en Louis Zweers, Koloniale oorlog 1945-1949; Van Indië tot Indonesië. H.F. Veenendaal en J.P.W. Kelder, ZKH; Hoog spel aan het hof van Zijne Koninklijke Hoogheid; De geheime dagboeken van mr.dr.L.G. van Maasdijk. Ons Indië; 400 jaar Nederlandse sporen in Insulinde, de strijd om de onafhankelijkheid & 60 jaar Indonesië. (Harry A. Poeze)

Andrés Sánchez Robayna entiende la poesía como una forma de conocimiento, siguiendo la tradición que procede del Romanticismo. La poesía se presenta como liberación del poder espiritual de la palabra, capaz de reunificar al hombre con el mundo. El poema brota movido por el deseo de lo desconocido, que es el fondo invisible de lo visible. Este misterio que late en la realidad es lo sagrado para el poeta, quien experimenta el sentimiento de pertenencia a la tierra que remite al lugar de origen. El poema se muestra como una «auscultación del lugar» que procede del deseo: la belleza del lugar suscita el canto de celebración. De este modo la palabra convoca una presencia que toma cuerpo en la palabra; y al mismo tiempo este nombrar se ahonda en lo invisible, unificándolo con lo visible. Este construir y habitar la imagen-cuerpo del mundo mediante la obra poética constituye una liturgia que reúne a los hombres, el mundo y lo sagrado. La alianza tiene lugar en el símbolo-imagen, que unifica lo escindido y es el cimiento de la liturgia. El artículo concluye con un breve acercamiento a «La alianza», poema perteneciente a La sombra y la apariencia. Andrés Sánchez Robayna understands poetry as a way of knowledge, following the tradition that comes from Romanticism. Poetry is presented as a liberation of the spiritual power of the word, which is able to reunify the man with the world. The poem springs up moved by the desire of the unknown, which is the invisible depth of the visible. This mystery that beats in the reality is the sacred for the poet, who experiences the feeling of belonging to the earth that refers to the place of origin. The poem is shown like an “auscultation of the place” which comes from the desire: the beauty of the place arouses the chant of celebration. In this way, the word summons a presence that is embodied in the word , and, simultaneously, this calling deepens in the invisible, merging it with the visible. This scaffolding and inhabiting the image-body of the world using the poetic work, constitutes a liturgy that congregates humans, the world and the sacred. The covenant takes place in the symbol-image, which unifies what is torn and is the foundation of the liturgy. The article concludes with a brief approach to “La alianza”, a poem belonging to La sombra y la apariencia.

Contemporary children live in a digital era and it is almost impossible for them not to be tempted by technologies. This article presents some interesting results from Bulgarian project „Digital Competencies and Media Education at Pre-school and Primary School Age” (National Science Fund; Н05/8 14.12.2016). In 2018 there were interviewed 637 children from 13 Bulgarian towns. The focus in this article is only 8 years old students and their digital habits. The author is a Member of the team of the COST project ‘Digital literacy and multimodal practices of young children’ (Action IS1410) – DigiLitEY. In March 2019 in Manchester on the final project’s meeting of DigiLitEY were presented results connect ed with the key participants for this COST’s project – up to 8 years old students. This article analyses this aged group and their attitudes of digital technologies.

Contemporary children live in a digital era and it is almost impossible for them not to be tempted by technologies. This article presents some interesting results from Bulgarian project „Digital Competencies and Media Education at Pre-school and Primary School Age” (National Science Fund; Н05/8 14.12.2016). In 2018 there were interviewed 637 children from 13 Bulgarian towns. The focus in this article is only 8 years old students and their digital habits. The author is a Member of the team of the COST project ‘Digital literacy and multimodal practices of young children’ (Action IS1410) – DigiLitEY. In March 2019 in Manchester on the final project’s meeting of DigiLitEY were presented results connect ed with the key participants for this COST’s project – up to 8 years old students. This article analyses this aged group and their attitudes of digital technologies.

The larval fish abundance and species composition of the Gulf of Tehuantepec are described based on the analysis of samples obtained from oblique zooplankton tows during summer 2007 and spring 2008. Changes in species composition and abundance between both periods were also described. A total of 145 taxa were obtained from which 73 were identified to species level, 43 to genus and 29 to family. The larval fish assemblage of the Gulf of Tehuantepec showed distinctive characteristics from other regions of the American Pacific, such as: A) a dominance of coastal-pelagic species (mainly Bregmaceros bathymaster); B) high diversity and abundance of shallow demersal species even along the oceanic stations of the study area; and C) a low proportion of mesopelagic species, an unusual condition in areas with narrow continental shelf. The diversity estimations suggest that Gulf of Tehuantepec is one of the most diverse ecosystems of the American Pacific, even as compared with other regions considered of highest diversity such as the Gulf of California. The high abundance, as well as the presence of the larval, juvenile and adult stages of B. bathymaster, suggests the importance of this region as a reproductive, nursery and recruitment for this species. Cambios en la composición de especies y abundancia de larvas de peces en el Golfo de Tehuantepec, México Se describen la composición de especies y abundancia de larvas de peces del Golfo de Tehuantepec a partir del análisis de muestras obtenidas en arrastres oblicuos de zooplancton. Así mismo, se describen los cambios en composición y abundancia entre un periodo de verano y uno de primavera. Se obtuvieron 145 taxa de los que 73 se identificaron a nivel especie, 43 a género y 29 a familia. La comunidad de larvas de peces del Golfo de Tehuantepec mostró rasgos distintivos de otras regiones similares del Pacífico Americano, tales como: A) dominancia de especies pelágico-costeras (particularmente Bregmaceros bathymaster); B) alta diversidad y abundancia de especies demersales someras aún en las estaciones mas oceánicas del área de estudio; y C) una proporción menor de especies de peces mesopelágicos, condición poco común en áreas con plataforma continental estrecha. Las estimaciones de diversidad ubican al Golfo de Tehuantepec como uno de los ecosistemas más diversos del Pacífico americano, aún comparándolo con regiones consideradas de alta diversidad a nivel mundial como es el caso del Golfo de California. La abundancia y la presencia de estadios larvales, juveniles y adultos de B. bathymaster reflejan la importancia de esta zona como área de reproducción, crianza y reclutamiento de esta especie.

The larval fish abundance and species composition of the Gulf of Tehuantepec are described based on the analysis of samples obtained from oblique zooplankton tows during summer 2007 and spring 2008. Changes in species composition and abundance between both periods were also described. A total of 145 taxa were obtained from which 73 were identified to species level, 43 to genus and 29 to family. The larval fish assemblage of the Gulf of Tehuantepec showed distinctive characteristics from other regions of the American Pacific, such as: A) a dominance of coastal-pelagic species (mainly Bregmaceros bathymaster); B) high diversity and abundance of shallow demersal species even along the oceanic stations of the study area; and C) a low proportion of mesopelagic species, an unusual condition in areas with narrow continental shelf. The diversity estimations suggest that Gulf of Tehuantepec is one of the most diverse ecosystems of the American Pacific, even as compared with other regions considered of highest diversity such as the Gulf of California. The high abundance, as well as the presence of the larval, juvenile and adult stages of B. bathymaster, suggests the importance of this region as a reproductive, nursery and recruitment for this species. Cambios en la composición de especies y abundancia de larvas de peces en el Golfo de Tehuantepec, México Se describen la composición de especies y abundancia de larvas de peces del Golfo de Tehuantepec a partir del análisis de muestras obtenidas en arrastres oblicuos de zooplancton. Así mismo, se describen los cambios en composición y abundancia entre un periodo de verano y uno de primavera. Se obtuvieron 145 taxa de los que 73 se identificaron a nivel especie, 43 a género y 29 a familia. La comunidad de larvas de peces del Golfo de Tehuantepec mostró rasgos distintivos de otras regiones similares del Pacífico Americano, tales como: A) dominancia de especies pelágico-costeras (particularmente Bregmaceros bathymaster); B) alta diversidad y abundancia de especies demersales someras aún en las estaciones mas oceánicas del área de estudio; y C) una proporción menor de especies de peces mesopelágicos, condición poco común en áreas con plataforma continental estrecha. Las estimaciones de diversidad ubican al Golfo de Tehuantepec como uno de los ecosistemas más diversos del Pacífico americano, aún comparándolo con regiones consideradas de alta diversidad a nivel mundial como es el caso del Golfo de California. La abundancia y la presencia de estadios larvales, juveniles y adultos de B. bathymaster reflejan la importancia de esta zona como área de reproducción, crianza y reclutamiento de esta especie.

-Timothy P. Barnard, Cynthia Chou, Indonesian sea nomads; Money, magic, and fear of the Orang Suku Laut. London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003, xii + 159 pp. -R.H. Barnes, Toos van Dijk, Gouden eiland in de Bandazee; Socio-kosmische ideeën op Marsela, Maluku Tenggara, Indonesië. Leiden: Onderzoekschool voor Aziatische, Afrikaanse en Amerindische studies (CNWS), Universiteit Leiden, 2000, 458 pp. [CNWS Publications 94.] -Andrew Beatty, Peter G. Riddell, Islam and the Malay-Indonesian world; Transmission and responses. Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press, 2001, xvii + 349 pp. -Peter Boomgaard, Richard H. Grove ,El Niño - history and crisis; Studies from the Asia-Pacific region. Cambridge: White Horse Press, 2000, 230 pp., John Chappell (eds) -Bernardita Reyes Churchill, Florentino Rodao, Franco y el imperio japonés; Imágenes y propaganda en tiempos de guerra. Barcelona: Plaza and Janés, 2002, 669 pp. -Matthew Cohen, Stuart Robson, The Kraton; Selected essays on Javanese courts. Translated by Rosemary Robson-McKillop. Leiden: KITLV Press, 2003, xxvi + 397 pp. [Translation series 28.] -Serge Dunis, Ben Finney, Sailing in the wake of the ancestors; Reviving Polynesian voyaging. Honolulu: Bishop Museum Press, 2003, 176 pp. [Legacy of excellence.] -Heleen Gall, Jan A. Somers, De VOC als volkenrechtelijke actor. Deventer: Gouda Quint, Rotterdam: Sanders Instituut, 2001, x + 350 pp. -David Henley, Harold Brookfield, Exploring agrodiversity. New York: Columbia University Press, 2001, xix + 348 pp. -David Hicks, Ernst van Veen ,A guide to the sources of the history of Dutch-Portuguese relations in Asia (1594-1797). With a foreword by Leonard Blussé. Leiden: Institute for the history of European expansion, 2001, iv + 378 pp. [Intercontinenta 24.], Daniël Klijn (eds) -Nico Kaptein, Donald J. Porter, Managing politics and Islam in Indonesia. London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2002, xxi + 264 pp. -Victor T. King, Monica Janowski, The forest, source of life; The Kelabit of Sarawak. London: British Museum Press, 2003, vi + 154 pp. [Occasional paper 143.] -Dick van der Meij, Andrée Jaunay, Exploration dans la presqu île malaise par Jacques de Morgan 1884. Paris: CNRS Éditions, 2003, xiv + 268 pp. Avec les contributions de Christine Lorre, Antonio Guerreiro et Antoine Verney. -Toon van Meijl, Richard Eves, The magical body; Power, fame and meaning in a Melanesian society. Amsterdam: Harwood academic, 1998, xxii + 302 pp. [Studies in Anthropology and History 23.] -Otto van den Muijzenberg, Florentino Rodao ,The Philippine revolution of 1896; Ordinary lives in extraordinary times. Quezon city: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2001, xx + 303 pp., Felice Noelle Rodriguez (eds) -Frank Okker, Kees Snoek, Manhafte heren en rijke erfdochters; Het voorgeslacht van E. du Perron op Java. Leiden: KITLV Uitgeverij, 2003, 103 pp. [Boekerij 'Oost en West'.] (met medewerking van Tim Timmers) -Oona Thommes Paredes, Greg Bankoff, Cultures of disaster; Society and natural hazard in the Philippines, 2003, xviii + 232 pp. London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003, xviii + 232 pp. -Angela Pashia, Lake' Baling, The old Kayan religion and the Bungan religious reform. Translated and annotated by Jérôme Rousseau. Kota Samarahan: Unit Penerbitan Universiti Malaysia Sarawak, 2002, xviii + 124 pp. [Dayak studies monographs, Oral literature series 4.] -Anton Ploeg, Susan Meiselas, Encounters with the Dani; Stories from the Baliem Valley. New York: International center of photography, Göttingen: Steidl, 2003, 196 pp. -Nathan Porath, Robert W. Hefner, The politics of multiculturalism; Pluralism and citizenship in Malaysia, Singapore, and Indonesia. Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press, 2001, ix + 319 pp. -Jan van der Putten, Timothy P. Barnard, Multiple centres of authority; Society and environment in Siak and eastern Sumatra, 1674-1827. Leiden: KITLV Press, 2003, xvi + 206 pp. [Verhandelingen 210.] -Jan Piet Puype, David van Duuren, Krisses; A critical bibliography. Wijk en Aalburg: Pictures Publishers, 2002, 192 pp. -Thomas H. Slone, Gertrudis A.M. Offenberg ,Amoko - in the beginning; Myths and legends of the Asmat and Mimika Papuans. Adelaide: Crawford House, 2002, xxviii + 276 pp., Jan Pouwer (eds) -Fridus Steijlen, Kwa Chong Guan ,Oral history in Southeast Asia; Theory and method. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian studies, 2000, xii + 172 pp., James H. Morrison, Patricia Lim Pui Huen (eds) -Fridus Steijlen, P. Lim Pui Huen ,War and memory in Malaysia and Singapore. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian studies, 2000, vii + 193 pp., Diana Wong (eds) -Jaap Timmer, Andrew Lattas, Cultures of secrecy; Reinventing race in Bush Kaliai cargo cults. Madison/London: University of Wisconsin Press, 1998, xliv + 360 pp. -Edwin Wieringa, Kartika Setyawati ,Katalog naskah Merapi-Merbabu; Perpustakaan Nasional Republik Indonesia. Yogyakarta: Penerbitan Universitas Sanata Dharma, Leiden: Opleiding Talen en Culturen van Zuidoost-Azië en Oceanië, 2002, ix + 278 pp. [Semaian 23.], I. Kuntara Wiryamartana, Willem van der Molen (eds) -Julian Millie, Jakob Sumardjo, Simbol-simbol artefak budaya Sunda; Tafsir-tafsir pantun Sunda. Bandung: Kelir, 2003, xxvi + 364 pp. -Julian Millie, T. Christomy, Wawacan Sama'un; Edisi teks dan analisis struktur Jakarta: Djambatan (in cooperation with the Ford Foundation), 2003, viii + 404 pp. -Julian Millie, Dadan Wildan, Sunan Gunung Jati (antara fiksi dan fakta); Pembumian Islam dengan pendekatan struktural dan kultural. Bandung: Humaniora Utama Press, 2002, xx + 372 pp.

RESUMEN:En este artículo, procedemos a estudiar el traspaso familiar del oficio manufacturero,concretamente el de la platería, a través de tres generaciones de la familia Gálvez a lo largo de la centuria dieciochesca. Para ello, hemos esbozado la situación actual de la historia de la familia con respecto a su interés sobre los sectores artesanales para posteriormente adentrarnos, tras unos datos concretos del linaje, en los talleres y su evolución de forma conjunta con las trayectorias vitales de los individuos, haciendo hincapié en la importancia de las relaciones entre los consanguíneos para el progreso laboral.PALABRAS CLAVE: Antequera, siglos XVIII, familia, artesanos, platerosABSTRACT:In this paper, I study the family transfer of the manufacturing trade, specifically that of silversmiths, through three generations of the Gálvez family throughout the 18th century. To this end, I have outlined the current situation of the family’s history of the family with respect to their interest in the artisanal sectors to then consider, after some specific data regarding lineage, the workshops and their evolution together with the lives of the individuals concerned, emphasizing the importance of family to professional and economic progress.KEY WORDS: Antequera, 18th century, family, artisans, silversmiths BIBLIOGRAFÍAAlexandre, C. y Ruggiu, F. J., “La circulación de los oficios en Charleville. Familia y trabajo en los siglos XVIII y XIX”, Revista de Historia Moderna, 34 (2016), pp. 239-256.Barroso Vázquez, M. 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La familia en la historiografía española, Murcia, Universidad, 2007, pp. 51-68.Colón de Larraeátegui, J., Tiempos de reforma ilustrada. Informe sobre los gremios de Valladolid, Valladolid, Ayuntamiento, 2008 (ed. L. Amigo Vázquez, M. García Fernández y R. Hernández García).Cruz Valdovinos, J. M. y Nieva Soto, P., “Los Morenos, una familia de plateros madrileña en el Antiguo Régimen”, Anales del Instituto de Estudios Madrileños, 44 (2004), pp. 331-358.Cruz Valdovinos, J. M., Catálogo de platería, Madrid, Ministerio de Cultura, 1982.Cruz Valdovinos, J. M., Los plateros madrileños: estudio histórico-jurídico de su Organización Corporativa, Tomo I, Madrid, Gremio de Joyeros y Plateros de Madrid, 1993.Diego Velasco, T. de, Los gremios granadinos a través de sus ordenanzas, Madrid, Universidad Complutense de Madrid, 1986.Domínguez Ortiz, A., Sociedad y estado en el siglo XVIII español, Barcelona, Ariel, 1976.Fernández Guirao, F. J., “Los Laborda, una familia de plateros entre los siglos XVIII-XIX”, CLAVIS, 9 (2016), pp. 77-102.Fernández Pérez, P. y Sola-Corbacho, J. C., “Familia y comerciantes en la España del Antiguo Régimen”, en Espacios sociales, universos familiares. La familia en la historiografía española, Murcia, Universidad de Murcia, 2007, pp. 177-191.Frey, D. A., “Industrious Households: servival strategies of artisans in a Sothwest German town during the eighteenth an early nineteenth centuries”, International Review of Social History, 45 (2000), pp. 115-135.García Abellán, J., Organización de los gremios en la Murcia del siglo XVIII y recopilación de ordenanzas, Murcia, Academia Alfonso X el Sabio, 1976.García González, F. y Crespo Sánchez, F. J., “Radiografía de un impulso compartido. La historia de la familia en España e Iberoamérica (2000-2015)”, en Familias en el Viejo y el Nuevo Mundo, La Plata, Universidad Nacional de La Plata, 2017, pp. 44-78.García González, F., “Las estructuras familiares y su relación con los recursos humanos y económicos”, en Familias. Historia de la sociedad española (del final de la Edad Media a nuestros días), Madrid, Cátedra, 2011, pp. 159-254.García González, F., “Vejez, viudedad y soledad rural. Viudas, hogares y prácticas familiares en la España centro-meridional del siglo XVIII”, Studia historica. Historia moderna, vol. 38, 2 (2016), pp. 287-324.García González, F., Las estrategias de la diferencia. Familia y reproducción social en la Sierra (Alcaraz, siglo XVIII), Madrid, Ministerio de Agricultura, Pesca y Alimentación, 2000.González Barrero, N., “Los maestros de primeras letras en la provincia de Madrid a través del Catastro de Ensenada”, Historia y Memoria de la Educación, 3 (2016), pp. 197-228.González Enciso, A., “los gremios y el crecimiento económico”, Memoria y Civilización, 1 (1998), pp. 111-137.Guerra Guerra, A., “Profesionales, obreros y artesanos de Badajoz en 1750: sus ganancias y emolumentos según el Catastro de Ensenada”, Revista de estudio extremeños, vol. 27, 3 (1971), pp. 561-582.Gutiérrez Nieto, F. J. y Ybañez Worboys, P., “El llamamiento a la nobleza de las «dos Andalucías» de 1706”, Revista de Historia Moderna, 25 (2007), pp. 53-87.Hernández Benítez, M., A la sombra de la Corona. Poder local y oligarquía urbana (Madrid, 1606-1808), Madrid, Siglo XXI, 1995.Hernández Franco, J. y Molina Puche, S., “La sangre de la familia y su proceso socioinstitucional. Siglos XVI-XVII” en Familias. Historia de la sociedad española (del final de la Edad Media a nuestros días), Madrid, Cátedra, 2011, pp. 113-156.Hernández García, R., “Gremios y corporaciones laborales. Debate historiográficos y estado de la cuestión”, Areas, (34 (2015), pp. 7-18.Hernández López, C., “Trabajo y curso de vida. Los artesanos de Albacete (1636-1792)”, en Escenarios de familia: trayectorias, estrategias y pautas culturales, siglo XVI-XX, Murcia, Universidad, 2017, pp. 257-269.Herraéz Ortega, M. V., “Los Bello, platero de Sahagún, y las cruces procesionales de Vallecillo y Joarilla de las Matas (León)”, en Estudios de Platería: San Eloy, Murcia, Universidad, 2002, pp. 183-194.Irigoyen López, A. “Un obispado para la familia: Francisco Verdín Molina, prelado de Guadalajara y Valladolid en la segunda mitad del siglo XVII”, Historia mexicana, vol. 58, 2 (2008), pp. 557-594.Irigoyen López, A., “Bajo el manto de la Iglesia. Clero y familia en España durante la Edad Moderna”, en Espacios sociales, universos familiares. La familia en la historiografía española, Murcia, Universidad de Murcia, 2007, pp. 245-269.Llordén, A., “Noticas históricas de los maestros plateros antequeranos, siglos XVIII-XIX”, Jábega, (8 (1974), pp. 81-92.Mallo, J., “Emociones, honra y familia. Comerciantes españoles a finales del siglo XVIII”, en Familias en el Viejo y el Nuevo Mundo, La Plata, Universidad Nacional de La Plata, 2017, pp. 367-385.Marchant Rivera, A., “El prohijamiento, la tutela y la carta de aprendiz: instrumentos para una historia de la situación del menor en Málaga durante la primera mitad del siglo XVI”, en Población y grupos sociales en el Antiguo Régimen, vol. 2, Málaga, Área de Historia Moderna de la Universidad de Málaga, 2009, pp. 943-956.Miralles Martínez, P., Seda, trabajo y sociedad en la Murcia del siglo XVII, Murcia, Universidad, 2000.Moral Roncal, A. M. Gremios e Ilustración en Madrid, (1775-1836), Madrid, Actas, 1998.Moral Roncal, A. M., “Honor, vileza y honra de los oficios mecánicos en el siglo XVIII”, Baetica, 18 (1996), pp.Morgado García, A. J., “El ciclo vital de los esclavos en el Cádiz de la modernidad”, Revista de historia moderna: Anales de la Universidad de Alicante, 34 (2016), pp. 297-315.Morgado García, A. J., “La vida familiar de los esclavos en el Cádiz de la modernidad (1600-1750)”, Trocadero: revista de historia moderna y contemporánea, 24 (2012), pp. 67-81.Narotzky, S., “La renta del afecto: ideología y reproducción en el cuidado de los viejos”, en Antropología de los pueblos de España, Madrid, Taurus, 1991, pp. 464-474.Nieto Sánchez, J. A. y Zofío Llorente, J. C., “Los gremios de Madrid durante la Edad Moderna: una revisión”, Áreas, 34 (2015), pp. 47-61.Nieto Sánchez, J. A., Artesanos y mercaderes: una historia social y económica de Madrid, 1450-1850, Madrid, Fundamentos, 2006.Ortega López, M., “Las edades de las mujeres”, en Historia de las mujeres en España y América Latina, vol. 2, Madrid, Cátedra, 2005, pp. 317-350.Pérez Samper, M. A., “Espacios y prácticas de sociabilidad en el siglo XVIII: tertulias, refrescos y cafés de Barcelona”, Cuadernos de Historia Moderna, 26 (2001), pp. 11-55.Sánchez-Lafuente Gémar, R., “El Colegio-Congregación de plateros de Antequera (1782-1833)”, Boletín de Arte, 12 (1991), pp. 317-336.Sánchez-Lafuente Gémar, R., “La platería de Málaga en el siglo XVIII”, en Estudios de Platería: San Eloy, Murcia, Universidad, 2001, pp. 241-256.Sánchez-Lafuente Gémar, R., El Arte de Platería en Málaga, 1550-1800, Málaga, Universidad, 1997.Zofío Llorente, J. C., Gremios y artesanos en Madrid, 1550-1650: la sociedad del trabajo en una ciudad cortesana preindustrial, Madrid, Instituto de Estudio Madrileños, 2005.

That was the year that was! 2021 seemingly arrived just yesterday and now we are shortly to bid it farewell. I hailed its predecessor as heralding the hope for a new clarity of vision – the start of a new decade which promised much. However, I have become reminded that perfect 20/20 vision in the present may not necessarily lead to reliable predictions for the future. Further I have immediately been taken back to my undergraduate days and the unforgettable words of the great poet T. S Eliot in his poem Burnt Norton – the first of the four Quartets Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future, And time future contained in time past. If all time is eternally present All time is unredeemable. What might have been is an abstraction Remaining a perpetual possibility Only in a world of speculation. What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present They are words that seem to ring particularly true not only to anyone contemplating their remorselessly advancing years and reflecting on a career nearing completion, but they also seem particularly apposite for the experiences of the last two years. The pandemic started by destroying our expectations and predictions for what lay ahead. It ensured that our best laid plans for our immediate futures would remain unfulfilled and thus unredeemable. Subsequently during the year, we were left to speculate as to our future pathways - not only with regard to our professional activities, but also concerning our personal and family relationships – with a whole world of separation between ourselves and those of our kith and kin domiciled in distant lands. Though for some it may have been no more than a regional border! Such forced isolation caused many of us to think backwards as well, reflecting on our past trajectories and recalling both mistakes and successes alike. Yet for many it became a time to substitute the incessant demands of work and its associated travel and busy-ness with former and forgotten pleasures. Leisurely walks with friends and family, the rediscovering of rhythms and tempos unimpeded by the daily demands of our diaries and other extraneous demands on our time that had required us to respond immediately and forgo the immediate needs of the surroundings and people closest to us. Above all, with the future in limbo and the past re-emerging in our minds, it reinforced the realisation that the present is what we really have, and it contains what is most important. For a time, the incessant chatter and noise of the media retained our attention, just as it had dominated our attention at the end of 2019. Yet, somehow during the year, the hype and frenzied reporting seems to have diminished in impact. This was nowhere more evident than in the responses to COP26 – the 26th United Nations Climate Change Conference in Glasgow, UK. Items in the press came thick and fast leading up to the event: predictions of planetary doom; political conflicts were highlighted as world leaders met or didn’t meet on the conference stage; appearances by the celebrities of the world; demonstrations aplenty. All of this breathless activity faded imperceptibly out of our consciousness as the serious (but more boring?) negotiations between nations started to take place, with much of the brilliance of the limelight now exhausted. The anticlimactic conclusion was judged by Boris Johnson, the chair and among the most optimistic of politicians, as achieving a 6 out of 10. Several positive outcomes were identified such as: commitments to end deforestation; a global methane pledge; a socalled ‘Breakthrough Agenda’, which committed countries to work together to accelerate the clean energy transition. Yet predictably, this was labelled by the critics and activists as too little too late. Although there are many who would see climate crisis as the major crisis that faces us – there are many other current crises of even more pressing and immediate concern to very many of us. The most urgent of which, would depend upon your own circumstances and where you might find yourself in the world. Examples from recent media would include: the loss of previously taken for granted freedoms in Hong Kong; increased fears for personal safety and the prospect of hunger and poverty in Afghanistan; the loss of political freedoms and the prospects of war in Belarus and the Ukraine; the prospect of secession leading to renewed civil war in Serbia; another military coup in Sudan; civil unrest in Cuba, etc etc.. On a global scale the movement of people leaving failed states and war-torn areas looking for the chance to make a better future, has continued to increase on a scale that the world is quite unable to manage. Sadly, even in the countries that are eagerly sought as destinies, there seem to be endless stories of strife, anxiety and anger to be told. The Economist provides the example of France, the ninth largest economy in the world with the 20th largest population of 67+ million. This pillar of Europe is facing a presidential election. Far from rejoicing in its prosperity, stability and proud history – the mood is sombre. Tune in to any French prime time talk show this autumn, and discussion rages over the country’s wretched decline. France is losing its factories and jobs, squeezing incomes and small businesses, destroying its landscapes and language, neglecting its borders and squandering its global stature. Its people are fractious and divided, if not on the verge of a civil war, as a public letter from retired army officers suggested earlier this year. At the second presidential primary debate for the centre-right Republicans party, on November 14th, the five candidates competed with each other to chronicle French disaster. Listen to the hard right, and it is “the death of France as we know it”. The anxiety is widespread. In a recent poll 75% agreed that France is “in decline”. When asked to sum up their mood in another survey, the French favoured three words: uncertainty, worry and fatigue. So, we are entitled to ask, what is happening in the world as we contemplate the path out of Covid? Should we not be expecting some feeling of optimism and gratitude that modern medicine has provided a way forward out of the pandemic through vaccination and new medical treatments? We should be putting the trials and tribulations of the pandemic behind us, embracing the lessons we have learnt and anticipating the benefits of the reassessments and recalibrations we have undergone over the last two years. Yet instead, we seem to be facing re-entry into a world of strife and dissension. It is a view that that would seem to encourage retreat into the comfort of a limited and familiar space, rather than striking out confidently and optimistically. So, to return to Eliot – perhaps we need to be reminded that the present is all we have. We will only be able to experience our future when we arrive there. Therefore, the pathway we choose to it, should be as smooth, rich and rewarding as possible. It should not be characterised by hedonism but rather by enhancing rather than diminishing the future. Every moment spent devaluing either our future or our past, is a moment that further undermines our present. This last point is particularly true when we fail to see our present in the context of both our past and future. One of the major contributions to this current angst within our societies, appears to be the cultural wars being waged by the warriors of WOKE. Passing judgements on figures from a previous time, without a clear understanding of the context in which they operated makes absolutely no sense. It is akin to a capital punishment abolitionist vilifying the heroes of the French Revolution for allowing Madame Guillotine to be the agent of their retribution against the aristocracy. So, it is with defacing statues of those who lived and acted in far different times and were the product of the dominant values and beliefs of that time. It is indeed an act of vandalism. If we remove all evidence of the history to which such people belonged, how can we expect to learn from that time and ensure that the world does indeed move forward? Although we are talking about the context provided by time – this is equally true of all the contexts in which we currently find ourselves. It is impossible to understand human behaviour without knowing and understanding the context in which it occurs. This is a key principle of the science of human behaviour. Alas it is a principle that has been neglected in the sport sciences in recent years. Whereas research into the physiology, psychology and biomechanics of sport has flourished, too often it is reported in a way that fails to adequately take account of the context in which it occurs. It is why so many findings are ungeneralisable and remain in the laboratory rather than making the journey out onto the playing field of life. Understanding the history and the social context within which sport is practised is essential if scientists and professionals are going to be able to make comparisons between findings gained in different settings. Comparative studies in sport and physical education play an important role in enabling knowledge and understanding about these institutions to be widely shared. Our journal therefore has an important role to play in the development and sharing of knowledge and understanding between scientists and professionals in different settings. This is a role that has been filled by our journal over the last forty-three years. I am pleased to be able to report that the society (ISCPES), following a break of four years in activity, will be meeting again at the end of this year. The meeting which can be attended online will be hosted by Lakshmibai National College of Physical Education in India. Details are provided in this edition, and I commend this important meeting to you. That there is an interest and demand in comparative and international studies is clear from the number of submissions we have been receiving for our journal. The chance to meet with fellow researchers and colleagues in real time, if not actually face to face, is to be welcomed. It is my fervent hope that this will lead to continuing growth in interest in our multidiscipline and internationally focused field. I congratulate the organisers for their initiative. I would also like to pay tribute to former president Dr Walter Ho of the University of Macau, for his role in this as well as for his continuing support of our journal. So, I come to commend to you the contributions of this latest volume. They come from four different continents and as such provide a representative cross section of our readership. The topics about which they write give an example of the range of understanding and practices that can usefully be shared amongst us. In our first paper Croteau, Eduljee and Murphy report on the health, lifestyle behaviours and well-being of international Masters field hockey athletes. The Masters sport movement provides an important example of why sport represents a solid investment in assisting individuals to commit to health supporting physical activity across the lifespan. The study is particularly interesting, as it provides evidence of the broader sense of wellbeing to be gained by ongoing participation and also the fact that this benefit seems to apply even in the geographic and culturally different environments provided by life in Europe, North America and, Asia and the Pacific. Our second paper by Kubayi, Coopoo and Toriola addresses a familiar problem – the breakdown in communication between researchers and scientists in sport and the coaches who work with the athletes. The context for this study is provided by elite performance level sport in South Africa and the sports of soccer, athletics, hockey and netball. It is concluded that the sports scientists and academics need to be encouraged to make their work more available by presenting it more frequently face to face during coaching workshops, seminars, clinics and conferences. However, the caveat is that this needs to be done in a way that is understandable, applicable and relevant to helping the coach make effective decisions and solve problems in a way that benefits the athletes as the end product. A team of medical and pedagogical scientists from Gadjah Mada University in Indonesia provide the Asian input to this volume. They raise a concern over the issue of safety and risk in physical education and how well specialists in the subject are prepared in the area of sport injury management. Hidayat, Sakti, Putro, Triannga, Farkhan, Rahayu and Magetsari collaborated in a survey of 191 physical education teachers. They concluded that there was a need for better and more sustained teacher education on this important topic. PE teacher training should not only upgrade teachers’ knowledge but also increase their self-perceptions of competence. PE teachers should be provided with enhanced training on sports injuries and Basic Life Support (BLS) skills, in order to improve the safety and maximize the benefits of PE classes. It is a finding that could usefully be compared with current practices in other countries and settings, given the common focus in the PE lesson on children performing challenging tasks in widely varying contexts. Our final paper by Rojo, Ribeiro and Starepravo takes a very much broader perspective. Sport migration is a relatively new, specialised but expanding field in sports studies. This paper is however significant not for what it can tell us about current knowledge in sport migration, but rather in what it tells us about the way knowledge is gathered and disseminated in a specialist area such as this. Building on the ideas of Bourdieu, they demonstrate how the field of knowledge is shaped by the key actors in the process and how these key actors serve to gather and use their academic capital in that process. As such fields of knowledge can become artificially constricted in both the spaces and cultures in which they develop. The authors highlight a very real problem in the generation and transmission of academic knowledge, and it is one that International Sports Studies is well positioned to address. In conclusion, may I encourage you in sharing with these papers to actively engage in reflecting on the importance of the varying contexts these authors bring and how sensitivity to this can enlarge and deepen our own practices and understanding. John Saunders Brisbane, November 2021

<p><strong>List of Abstract Titles and authors:<br /></strong></p><p><strong>1. Psychosis: A matter of mental effort?</strong></p><p>M Borg, Y Y van der Zee, J H Hsieh, H Temmingh, D J Stein, F M Howells</p><p><strong>2.In search of an affordable, effective post-discharge intervention: A randomised control trial assessing the influence of a telephone-based intervention on readmissions for patients with severe mental illness in a developing country</strong></p><p><strong></strong>U A Botha, L Koen, M Mazinu, E Jordaan, D J H Niehaus</p><p><strong>3. The effect of early abstinence from long-term methamphetamine use on brain metabolism using 1H-magnetic resonance spectro-scopy (1H-MRS)</strong></p><p>A Burger, S Brooks, D J Stein, F M Howells</p><p><strong>4. The effect of <em>in utero exposure </em>to methamphetamine on brain metabolism in childhood using 1H-magnetic resonance spectroscopy (1H-MRS)</strong></p><p>A Burger, A Roos, M Kwiatkowski, D J Stein, K A Donald, F M Howells</p><p><strong>5. A prospective study of clinical, biological and functional aspects of outcome in first-episode psychosis: The EONKCS Study</strong></p><p><strong></strong>B Chiliza, L Asmal, R Emsley</p><p><strong>6. Stimulants as cognitive enhancers - perceptions v. evidence in a very real world</strong></p><p><strong></strong>H M Clark</p><p><strong>7. Pharmacogenomics in antipsychotic drugs</strong></p><p><strong></strong>Ilse du Plessis</p><p><strong>8. Serotonin in anxiety disorders and beyond</strong></p><p><strong></strong>Ilse du Plessis</p><p><strong>9. HIV infection results in ventral-striatal reward system hypo-activation during cue processing</strong></p><p><strong></strong>S du Plessis, M Vink, J A Joska, E Koutsilieri, A Bagadia, D J Stein, R Emsley</p><p><strong>10. Disease progression in schizophrenia: Is the illness or the treatment to blame?</strong></p><p>R Emsley, M J Sian</p><p><strong>11. Serotonin transporter variants play a role in anxiety sensitivity in South African adolescents</strong></p><p> S M J Hemmings, L I Martin, L van der Merwe, R Benecke, K Domschke, S Seedat</p><p><strong>12. Iron deficiency in two children diagnosed with multiple sclerosis: Report on whole exom sequencing</strong></p><p><strong></strong>S Janse van Rensburg, R van Toorn, J F Schoeman, A Peeters, L R Fisher, K Moremi, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>13. Benzodiazepines: Practical pharmacokinetics</strong></p><p><strong></strong>P Joubert</p><p><strong>14. What to consider when prescribing psychotropic medications</strong></p><p><strong></strong>G Lippi</p><p><strong>15. Current prescribing practices for obsessive-compulsive disorder in South Africa: Controversies and consensus</strong></p><p><strong></strong>C Lochner, L Taljaard, D J Stein</p><p><strong>16. Correlates of emotional and behavioural problems in children with preinatally acquired HIV in Cape Town, South Africa</strong></p><p><strong></strong>K-A Louw, N Phillips, JIpser, J Hoare</p><p><strong>17. The role of non-coding RNAs in fear extinction</strong></p><p><strong></strong>S Malan-Muller, L Fairbairn, W M U Daniels, M J S Dashti, E J Oakleley, M Altorfer, J Harvey, S Seedat, J Gamieldien, S M J Hemmings</p><p><strong>18. An analysis of the management og HIV-mental illness comorbidity at the psychiatric unit of the Dr George Mukhari Academic Hospital</strong></p><p><strong></strong>M L Maodi, S T Rataemane, T Kyaw</p><p><strong>19. The identification of novel genes in anxiety disorders: A gene X environment correlation and interaction study</strong></p><p><strong></strong>N W McGregor, J Dimatelis, S M J Hemmings, C J Kinnear, D J Stein, V Russel, C Lochner</p><p><strong>20. Collaborations between conventional medicine and traditional healers: Obstacles and possibilities</strong></p><p><strong></strong>G Nortje, S Seedat, O Gureje</p><p><strong>21. Thought disorder and form perception: Relationships with symptoms and cognitive function in first-episode schizophrenia</strong></p><p>M R Olivier, R Emsley</p><p><strong>22. Investigating the functional significance of genome-wide variants associated with antipsychotic treatment response</strong></p><p><strong></strong>E Ovenden, B Drogemoller, L van der Merwe, R Emsley, L Warnich</p><p><strong>23. The moral and bioethical determinants of "futility" in psychiatry</strong></p><p><strong></strong>W P Pienaar</p><p><strong>24. Single voxel proton magnetic resonance spectroscopy (1H-MRS) and volumetry of the amylgdala in social anxiety disorder in the context of early developmental trauma</strong></p><p>D Rosenstein, A T Hess, J Zwart, F Ahmed-Leitao, E Meintjies, S Seedat</p><p><strong>25. Schizoaffective disorder in an acute psychiatric unit: Profile of users and agreement with Operational Criteria (OPCRIT)</strong></p><p><strong></strong>R R Singh, U Subramaney</p><p><strong>26. The right to privacy and confidentiality: The ethics of expert diagnosis in the public media and the Oscar Pistorius trial</strong></p><p><strong></strong>C Smith</p><p><strong>27. A birth cohort study in South Africa: A psychiatric perspective</strong></p><p>D J Stein</p><p><strong>28. 'Womb Raiders': Women referred for observation in terms of the Criminal Procedures Act (CPA) charged with fetal abduction and murder</strong></p><p><strong></strong>U Subramaney</p><p><strong>29. Psycho-pharmacology of sleep wake disorders: An update</strong></p><p>R Sykes</p><p><strong>30. Refugee post-settlement in South Africa: Role of adjustment challenges and family in mental health outcomes</strong></p><p><strong></strong>L Thela, A Tomita, V Maharaj, M Mhlongo, K Jonathan</p><p><strong>31. Dstinguishing ADHD symptoms in psychotic disorders: A new insight in the adult ADHD questionnaire</strong></p><p>Y van der Zee, M Borg, J H Hsieh, H Temmingh, D J Stein, F M Howells</p><p><strong>32. Oscar Pistorius ethical dilemmas in a trial by media: Does this include psychiatric evaluation by media?</strong></p><p>M Vorster</p><p><strong>33. Genetic investigation of apetite aggression in South African former young offenders: The involvement of serotonin transporter gene</strong></p><p>K Xulu, J Somer, M Hinsberger, R Weierstall, T Elbert, S Seedat, S Hemmings</p><p><strong>34. Effects of HIV and childhood trauma on brain morphemtry and neurocognitive function</strong></p><p>G Spies, F Ahmed-Leitao, C Fennema-Notestine, M Cherner, S Seedat</p><p><strong>35. Measuring intentional behaviour normative data of a newly developed motor task battery</strong></p><p><strong></strong>S Bakelaar, J Blampain, S Seedat, J van Hoof, Y Delevoye-Turrel</p><p><strong>36. Resilience in social anxiety disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder in the context of childhood trauma</strong></p><p>M Bship, S Bakelaar, D Rosenstein, S Seedat</p><p><strong>37. The ethical dilemma of seclusion practices in psychiatry</strong></p><p>G Chiba, U Subramaney</p><p><strong>38. Physical activity and neurological soft signs in patients with schizophrenia</strong></p><p>O Esan, C Osunbote, I Oladele, S Fakunle, C Ehindero</p><p><strong>39. A retrospective study of completed suicides in the Nelson Mandela Bay Metropolitan Area from 2008 to 2013 - preliminary results</strong></p><p><strong></strong>C Grobler, J Strumpher, R Jacobs</p><p><strong>40. Serotonin transporter variants play a role in anxiety sensitivity in South African adolescents</strong></p><p><strong></strong>S M J Hemmings, L I Martin, L van der Merwe, R Benecke, K Domschke, S Seedat</p><p><strong>41. Investigation of variants within antipsychotic candidate pharmacogenes associated with treatment outcome</strong></p><p>F Higgins, B Drogmoller, G Wright, L van der Merwe, N McGregor, B Chiliza, L Asmal, L Koen, D Niehaus, R Emsley, L Warnich</p><p><strong>42. Effects of diet, smoking and alcohol consumption on disability (EDSS) in people diagnosed with multiple sclerosis</strong></p><p>S Janse van Rensburg, W Davis, D Geiger, F J Cronje, L Whati, M Kidd, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>43. The clinical utility of neuroimaging in an acute adolescnet psychiatric inpatient population</strong></p><p><strong></strong>Z Khan, A Lachman, J Harvey</p><p><strong>44. Relationships between childhood trauma (CT) and premorbid adjustment (PA) in a highly traumatised sample of patients with first-episode schizophrenia (FES</strong>)</p><p>S Kilian, J Burns, S Seedat, L Asmal, B Chiliza, S du Plessis, R Olivier, R Emsley</p><p><strong>45. Functional and cognitive outcomes using an mTOR inhibitor in an adolescent with TSC</strong></p><p>A Lachman, C van der Merwe, P Boyes, P de Vries</p><p><strong>46. Perceptions about adolescent body image and eating behaviour</strong></p><p><strong></strong>K Laxton, A B R Janse van Rensburg</p><p><strong>47. Clinical relevance of FTO rs9939609 as a determinant of cardio-metabolic risk in South African patients with major depressive disorder</strong></p><p>H K Luckhoff, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>48. Childhood abuse and neglect as predictors of deficits in verbal auditory memory in non-clinical adolescents with low anxiety proneness</strong></p><p>L Martin, K Martin, S Seedat</p><p><strong>49. The changes of pro-inflammatory cytokines in a prenatally stressed febrile seizure animal model and whether <em>Rhus chirindensis</em> may attenuate these changes</strong></p><p><strong></strong>A Mohamed, M V Mabandla, L Qulu</p><p><strong>50. Influence of TMPRSS6 A736v and HFE C282y on serum iron parameters and age of onset in patients with multiple sclerosis</strong></p><p><strong></strong>K E Moremi, M J Kotze, H K Luckhoff, L R Fisher, M Kidd, R van Toorn, S Janse van Rensburg</p><p><strong>51. Polypharmacy in pregnant women with serious mental illness</strong></p><p>E Thomas, E du Toit, L Koen, D Niehaus</p><p><strong>52. Infant attachment and maternal depression as predictors of neurodevelopmental and behavioural outcomes at follow-up</strong></p><p>J Nothling, B Laughton, S Seedat</p><p><strong>53. Differences in abuse, neglect and exposure to community violence in adolescents with and without PTSD</strong></p><p><strong></strong>J Nothling, S Suliman, L Martin, C Simmons, S Seedat</p><p><strong>54. Assessment of oxidative stress markers in children with autistic spectrum disorders in Lagos, Nigeria</strong></p><p><strong></strong>Y Oshodi, O Ojewunmi, T A Oshodi, T Ijarogbe, O F Aina, J Okpuzor, O C F E A Lesi</p><p><strong>55. Change in diagnosis and management of 'gender identity disorder' in pre-adolescent children</strong></p><p>S Pickstone-Taylor</p><p><strong>56. Brain network connectivity in women exposed to intimate partner violence</strong></p><p>A Roos, J-P Fouche, B Vythilingum, D J Stein</p><p><strong>57. Prolonged exposure treatment for PTSD in a Third-World, task-shifting, community-based environment</strong></p><p>J Rossouw, E Yadin, I Mbanga, T Jacobs, W Rossouw, D Alexander, S Seedat</p><p><strong>58. Contrasting effects of early0life stress on mitochondrial energy-related proteins in striatum and hippocampus of a rat model of attention-deficit/ hyperactivity disorder</strong></p><p><strong></strong>V Russell, J Dimatelis, J Womersley, T-L Sterley</p><p><strong>59. Attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder in adults: A South African perspective</strong></p><p>R Schoeman, M de Klerk, M Kidd</p><p><strong>60. Cognitive function in women with HIV infection and early-life stress</strong></p><p>G Spies, C Fennema-Notestine, M Cherner, S Seedat</p><p><strong>61. Changes in functional connectivity networks in bipolar disorder patients after mindfulness-based cognitic therapy</strong></p><p>J A Starke, C F Beckmann, N Horn</p><p><strong>62. Post-traumatic stress disorder, overweight and obesity: A systematic review and meta-analysis</strong></p><p><strong></strong>S Suliman, L Anthonissen, J Carr, S du Plessis, R Emsley, S M J Hemmings, C Lochner, N McGregor L van den Heuvel, S Seedat</p><p><strong>63. The brain and behaviour in a third-trimester equivalent animal model of fetal alcohol spectrum disorders</strong></p><p>P C Swart, C B Currin, J J Dimatelis, V A Russell</p><p><strong>64. Irritability Assessment Model (IAM) to monitor irritability in child and adolescent psychiatric disorders.</strong></p><p>D van der Westhuizen</p><p><strong>65. Outcome of parent-adolescent training in chilhood victimisation: Adaptive functioning, psychosocial and physiological variables</strong></p><p>D van der Westhuizen</p><p><strong>66. The effect of ketamine in the Wistar-Kyoto and Sprague Dawley rat models of depression</strong></p><p>P J van Zyl, J J Dimatelis, V A Russell</p><p><strong>67. Investigating COMT variants in anxiety sensitivity in South African adolescents</strong></p><p>L J Zass, L Martin, S Seedat, S M J Hemmings</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p><strong><br /></strong></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>

Hubertus Siegert’s impressionistic documentary, Berlin Babylon, illuminates the demolition and urban renewal of Berlin during the mid-late 1990s. This was a critical phase in the city’s history, as it prepared, amidst a flurry of excitement and anticipation, to become the united Germany's seat of power. Siegert's film seeks to give pause for thought, but deliberately eschews a “voice of god” voiceover, opting instead for a poetic audiovisual montage. This includes shots of the cityscape (and its lacunae), archival footage documenting the wartime devastation and subsequent dynamiting of buildings, observational cinema of the city’s busy building sites, and of verbal snippets from various architects, developers and politicians––following the film title’s cue, the agents in a rerun of the construction of the Tower of Babel––as well as epigraphs from the Bible and Walter Benjamin, and a prominent soundscape and musical score. As this article will demonstrate, the film’s (mostly) sombre soundtrack plays a critical role here, commenting on the footage, and beyond that on the whole project of the new ‘Berlin Republic’ and its attitude to architectural heritage and twentieth century history. Re-figuring the theme of this volume, Berlin Babylon’s music is a form of writing about (collapsing, old) architecture and history. And yet, the soundtrack is not as unambiguous as a voiceover might have been, and thereby allows creative space for the audience’s interpretation, a matter that was very important to the film’s director. This article will focus, in particular, on three elements: the use (and treatment) of historical recordings in the film; the use of silence; and finally the way in which tracks from the Berlin band Einstürzende Neubauten use music, noise and text to comment on the project of the new Berlin.

Kostas Ouranis (1890–1953), a Greek poet and essayist, lesser known abroad, was regarded as one of the first to introduce “travel writing” in Greece. As a correspondent of different newspapers, he travelled to many countries in Europe and abroad and recorded his impressions in travel books, of which the best known is his travelogue on Spain, Sol y sombra (1934). However, the book that is of special interest as regards the Greek perspective of the writer, is Travels in Greece (Ταξίδια στην Ελλάδα, 1949), where Ouranis describes impressions from his travels in his homeland which took place in 1930. In the present paper, basing on the brief chapter on Monemvasia from the above-mentioned book, I will shed some light on the reception of Byzantium in Ouranis’ view, trying to answer, among others, the question whether the writer conveys any specific knowledge of the subject. In my opinion, his view of Byzantine heritage deserves special attention as regards the broad framework of the European approach to the legacy of the Eastern Roman Empire. Firstly, because his impressions on this Byzantine town constitute a vivid example of a clearly Greek perspective in this regard, which is relatively poorly known. Secondly, his deeply personal account on Monemvasia reveals the general attitude of the Greeks to their legacy and as such it may be regarded as a characteristic miniature which, like a lens, focuses their approach to the past.

In World’s Fair (1985) E.L. (Edgar Lawrence) Doctorow (1931–) artistically transforms autobiographical and historical facts and memories of the actual world of his childhood into a Bildungsroman. Doctorow was in his fifties when he wrote this novel, which is widely regarded as more autobiographic than his other Bildungsromane, namely The Book of Daniel (1971), Loon Lake (1980) and Billy Bathgate (1989). This fictionalisation takes place through the use of a retrospective narrator who depicts the memories of his formative experiences as a nine-year-old boy. The novel is marked by a striking structural feature, namely that positive and sombre or serious events alternate. The question therefore arises: Why does Doctorow construct his childhood memoir in this manner? In brief, the answer is that the narrator’s Bildung depends on a carnivalesque dialectic of dangerous and/or threatening events and the relief and/or repair of these same events. This article therefore attempts to make sense of World’s Fair in terms of selected aspects of M.M. Bakhtin’s notion of ‘carnival’. It shows a clear link between, on the one hand, this novel’s status as a Bildungsroman along with the personal growth of the narrator and central character and, on the other hand, a carnivalesque dialectic of seriousness and amelioration. It thus shows that the main theme of the book is, in fact, the reliance of growth on this dialectic. The article begins with a brief analysis of the novel in terms of its semi-autobiographic character and then provides an equally brief overview of Bakhtin’s (1984, 1985) notion of carnival. The main body of the text provides examples from the novel and thus evidence for the above-mentioned dialectic.E.L. Doctorow se fiktiewe outobiografie: World’s Fair (1985), as ’n karnavaleske Bildungsroman. In World’s Fair (1985) omvorm E.L. (Edgar Lawrence) Doctorow (1931–) outobiografiese en geskiedkundige feite en herinneringe van die werklike wêreld van sy kindertyd op ‘n artistieke wyse in ’n Bildungsroman. Doctorow was in sy vyftigs toe hy hierdie roman geskryf het, wat oor die algemeen as meer outobiografies beskou word as sy ander Bildungsromane, naamlik The Book of Daniel (1971), Loon Lake (1980) en Billy Bathgate (1989). Hierdie fiksionalisering vind plaas deur ’n retrospektiewe verteller wat sy herinneringe aan sy lewensvormende ervaringe as ’n negejarige seun skilder. ’n Opvallende strukturele eienskap kenmerk hierdie roman, naamlik dat positiewe en somber of ernstige gebeurtenisse mekaar afwissel. Die vraag ontstaan dus: Waarom konstrueer Doctorow die memoir van sy kindertyd op hierdie wyse? Die antwoord is kortliks dat die verteller, Edgar Altschuler, se Bildung op ’n karnevalistiese dialektiek van gevaarlike en/of bedreigende gebeurtenisse en die verligting en/of herstel van dieselfde gebeurtenisse berus. Die doel van hierdie artikel is om World’s Fair in terme van geselekteerde aspekte van M.M. Bakhtin se idee van ‘karnaval’ te verstaan. Dit toon aan dat daar ʼn duidelike verband bestaan tussen, aan die een kant, die roman se posisie as ʼn Bildungroman tesame met die persoonlike ontwikkeling van die verteller en die sentrale karakter en, aan die ander kant, die karnavaleske dialektiek van erns en verbetering. Persoonlike groei wat op hierdie dialektiek gebaseer is, is dus die sentrale tema van hierdie boek. Die artikel begin met ʼn kort ontleding van die semi-outobiografiese aard van die roman en verskaf dan ʼn ewe kort oorsig van Bakhtin (1984, 1985) se konsep ‘karnaval’. Die hoofdeel van die artikel bestaan uit voorbeelde en daarmee bewyse van bogenoemde dialektiek.

Caracterización litológica y paleontológica del Cretáceo inferior en Cajamarca: Las formaciones Santa y Carhuáz Alejandro Lagos M.&, Zenón Quispe M. Universidad Nacional de Cajamarca DOI: https://doi.org/10.33017/RevECIPeru2012.0009/ RESUMEN En este estudio se analizan tanto los fósiles y las rocas que pertenecen a las formaciones (fms.) Santa y Carhuáz de edad cretáceo inferior, hallados en las localidades de San Marcos y Cajamarca. Estos análisis han permitido determinar su edad y las condiciones de depositación. La determinación de la posición media pesada relativa (PMPR) de las areniscas de la fm. Carhuaz determinó su caracterización depositacional regional. Cabe indicar que, tanto la fm. Santa como la Carhuaz, en contacto con intrusivos miocénicos se comporta muchas veces como buenas rocas receptoras para eventos de mineralización, como es el caso del yacimiento tipo Pórfido de Cu- Mo El Galeno, ubicado en el Departamento de Cajamarca. La fm. Santa, nombre dado por [1] de edad cretácica inferior, está constituida por una alternancia de arcillitas gris oscuras y limolitas calcáreas de carácter marino- transgresivo, descansa en concordancia sobre las areniscas litoral- playero- continental de la fm. Chimu. De acuerdo con [2] esta unidad muestra regionalmente un cambio de facies notables, mientras que en el norte del país la proporción de calizas es mayor, en Cajamarca es más lutacea. En las localidades de Namora y Matara ubicados en el Cuadrángulo de San Marcos, se identificaron Gasterópodos, que según [3] son (Cassiope) neumayri (NAGAO); paraglauconia strombiformis (SCHLOTHEIM); Corbícula sp. que indican una edad Valanginiano medio - Hauteriviano y un ambiente marino somero de aguas salobres muy cercano a la costa. Esta misma fauna fósil ha sido reportada también en las zonas de Cruz Blanca, Shaullo Chico y carretera de Huambocancha (Cuadrángulo de Cajamarca). La fm. Carhuaz, nombre dado también por [1] de edad cretácica inferior, consta de una alternancia de limolitas y areniscas de grano fino en estratos comúnmente delgados. En Namora y Matara se ha identificado una flora fósil que de acuerdo con [3] son: Weichselia peruviana ZEILLER (improntas de ramas y hojas): (Cassiope) neumayri (NAGAO), Pelcurdia sp. que indica una edad Hauteriviano medio a superior y una depositación en un ambiente continental y muy cercano a una zona transicional, con predominancia de climas cálidos y húmedos. Aplicando el PMPR, metodología propuesta por [4], a las areniscas de la fm. Carhuáz en una columna sedimentología elaborada en la zona de Cruz Blanca (localidad de Cajamarca) se determinó que las areniscas se ubican a 46% de la parte superior de toda la columna, indicando que esta ubicación es cercana a la parte central de toda la columna. El PMPR en la zona de Namora (Cuadrángulo San Marcos), está a 55%. Estos resultados indican que las facies ubicadas en Cajamarca son menos continentales que las ubicadas en San Marcos. Parece ser que el abundante contenido de materia orgánica, el carácter depositacional cálido y de aguas salobres de ambas formaciones han favorecido las reacciones químicas entre los fluidos hidrotermales y estas. En cambio estas reacciones químicas se producen de igual manera tanto dentro de un carácter ambiental transgresivo como regresivo dentro de la formación Carhuaz. Descriptores: caracterización, formación, fósil. ABSTRACT In this study, we analyzed the fossils and rocks of the formations Santa and Carhuaz of Cretaceous age found in the towns of San Marcos and Cajamarca determining its age and condition of their deposition. The determination of the relative heavy middle position (PMPR) of the sandstones of the fm. Carhuaz determined regional depositional characterization. It should be noted that both the fm. Santa as Carhuaz Miocene intrusive contact often behave as good host rocks for mineralization events, such as reservoir type Cu-Mo Porphyry El Galeno, located in the Department of Cajamarca. The fm. Santa, a name given by [1] of Cretaceous age, consists of an alternation of dark gray claystones and calcareous siltstones of marine transgressive character, lies in keeping on-shore beach sands of the fmcontinental. Chimú. According to [2] this machine exhibits regionally significant facies change, while in the northern limestone proportion is higher, more lutacea Cajamarca. In the towns of Matara- Namora and located in the San Marcos Quadrangle, gastropods were identified, which according to [3] are (Cassiope) neumayri (GAAS); paraglauconia strombiformis (Schlotheim), Corbicula sp. Valanginian age indicate a half - Hauterivian shallow marine environment and brackish waters close to shore. This same fossil fauna has been reported also in the areas of Cruz Blanca, Shaullo Chico y Huambocancha (Quadrangle Cajamarca). The fm. Carhuaz, also the name given by [1] of Cretaceous age, consists of alternating sandstones, siltstones and fine-grained strata commonly thin. In Matara Namora and has identified a fossil flora according to [3] are: Weichselia peruviana Zeiller (imprints of branches and leaves, Pelcurdia sp. indicating an age Valanginian - Hauterivian and a deposition in a continental environment and close to a transitional zone, with predominantly hot and humid climates. Applying the PMPR, methodology proposed by [4], the sandstones of the Fm. Sedimentology Carhuaz made in a column in the White Cross (Cajamarca) determined that the sandstones are located 46% of the top of the whole column, indicating that this location is close to the central part of the whole column. The area PMPR Namora (Quad San Marcos) is 55%. These results indicate that the facies located in Cajamarca are less continental those located in San Marcos. It seems that the rich content of organic matter, depositional character warm and salty waters of both bands have favored chemical reactions between hydrothermal fluids and such. Instead these chemical reactions occur equally well in a transgressive and regressive environmental nature within the formation Carhuáz. Keywords: characterization, formation, fossil.

Introduction Films with deaf characters often do not focus on the condition of deafness at all. Rather, the characters seem to satisfy a role in the story that either furthers the plot or the audience’s understanding of other hearing characters. The deaf characters can be symbolic, for example as a metaphor for isolation representative of ‘those without a voice’ in a society. The deaf characters’ misunderstanding of auditory cues can lead to comic circumstances, and their knowledge can save them in the case of perilous ones. Sign language, because of its unique linguistic properties and its lack of comprehension by hearing people, can save the day in a story line. Deaf characters are shown in different eras and in different countries, providing a fictional window into their possible experiences. Films shape and reflect cultural attitudes and can serve as a potent force in influencing the attitudes and assumptions of those members of the hearing world who have had few, if any, encounters with deaf people. This article explores categories of literary function as identified by the author, providing examples and suggestions of other films for readers to explore. Searching for Deaf Characters in Film I am a sign language interpreter. Several years ago, I started noticing how deaf characters are used in films. I made a concerted effort to find as many as I could. I referred to John Shuchman’s exhaustive book about deaf actors and subject matter, Hollywood Speaks; I scouted video rental guides (key words were ‘deaf’ or ‘disabled’); and I also plugged in the key words ‘deaf in film’ on Google’s search engine. I decided to ignore the issue of whether or not the actors were actually deaf—a political hot potato in the Deaf community which has been discussed extensively. Similarly, the linguistic or cultural accuracy of the type of sign language used or super-human lip-reading talent did not concern me. What was I looking for? I noticed that few story lines involving deaf characters provide any discussion or plot information related to that character’s deafness. I was puzzled. Why is there signing in the elevator in Jerry Maguire? Why does the guy in Grand Canyon have a deaf daughter? Why would the psychosomatic response to a trauma—as in Psych Out—be deafness rather than blindness? I concluded that not being able to hear carried some special meaning or fulfilled a particular need intrinsic to the plot of the story. I also observed that the functions of deaf characters seem to fall into several categories. Some deaf characters fit into more than one category, serving two or more symbolic purposes at the same time. By viewing and analysing the representations of deafness and deaf characters in forty-six films, I have come up with the following classifications: Deafness as a plot device Deaf characters as protagonist informants Deaf characters as a parallel to the protagonist Sign language as ‘hero’ Stories about deaf/hearing relationships A-normal-guy-or-gal-who-just-happens-to-be-deaf Deafness as a psychosomatic response to trauma Deafness as metaphor Deafness as a symbolic commentary on society Let your fingers do the ‘talking’ Deafness as Plot Device Every element of a film is a device, but when the plot hinges on one character being deaf, the story succeeds because of that particular character having that particular condition. The limitations or advantages of a deaf person functioning within the hearing world establish the tension, the comedy, or the events which create the story. In Hear No Evil (1993), Jillian learns from her hearing boyfriend which mechanical devices cause ear-splitting noises (he has insomnia and every morning she accidentally wakes him in very loud ways, eg., she burns the toast, thus setting off the smoke detector; she drops a metal spoon down the garbage disposal unit). When she is pursued by a murderer she uses a fire alarm, an alarm/sprinkler system, and a stereo turned on full blast to mask the sounds of her movements as she attempts to hide. Jillian and her boyfriend survive, she learns about sound, her boyfriend learns about deafness, and she teaches him the sign for orgasm. Life is good! The potential comic aspects of deafness may seem in this day and age to be shockingly politically incorrect. While the slapstick aspect is often innocent and means no overt harm or insult to the Deaf as a population, deafness functions as the visual banana peel over which the characters figuratively stumble in the plot. The film, See No Evil, Hear No Evil (1989), pairing Gene Wilder with Richard Pryor as deaf and blind respectively, is a constant sight gag of lip-reading miscues and lack-of-sight gags. Wilder can speak, and is able to speech read almost perfectly, almost all of the time (a stereotype often perpetuated in films). It is mind-boggling to imagine the detail of the choreography required for the two actors to convince the audience of their authenticity. Other films in this category include: Suspect It’s a Wonderful Life Murder by Death Huck Finn One Flew over the Cuckoo’s NestThe Shop on Main StreetRead My Lips The Quiet Deaf Characters as Protagonist Informants Often a deaf character’s primary function to the story is to give the audience more information about, or form more of an affinity with, the hearing protagonist. The deaf character may be fascinating in his or her own right, but generally the deafness is a marginal point of interest. Audience attitudes about the hearing characters are affected because of their previous or present involvement with deaf individuals. This representation of deafness seems to provide a window into audience understanding and appreciation of the protagonist. More inferences can be made about the hearing person and provides one possible explanation for what ensues. It is a subtle, almost subliminal trick. There are several effective examples of this approach. In Gas, Food, Lodging (1992), Shade discovers that tough-guy Javier’s mother is deaf. He introduces Shade to his mother by simple signs and finger-spelling. They all proceed to visit and dance together (mom feels the vibrations on the floor). The audience is drawn to feel ‘Wow! Javier is a sensitive kid who has grown up with a beautiful, exotic, deaf mother!’ The 1977 film, Looking for Mr. Goodbar presents film-goers with Theresa, a confused young woman living a double life. By day, she is a teacher of deaf children. Her professor in the Teacher of the Deaf program even likens their vocation to ‘touching God’. But by night she cruises bars and engages in promiscuous sexual activity. The film shows how her fledgling use of signs begins to express her innermost desires, as well as her ability to communicate and reach out to her students. Other films in this category include: Miracle on 34th Street (1994 version)Nashville (1975, dir. Robert Altman)The Family StoneGrand CanyonThere Will Be Blood Deaf Characters as a Parallel to the Protagonist I Don’t Want to Talk about It (1993) from Argentina, uses a deaf character to establish an implied parallel story line to the main hearing character. Charlotte, a dwarf, is friends with Reanalde, who is deaf. The audience sees them in the first moments of the film when they are little girls together. Reanalde’s mother attempts to commiserate with Charlotte’s mother, establishing a simultaneous but unseen story line somewhere else in town over the course of the story. The setting is Argentina during the 1930s, and the viewer can assume that disability awareness is fairly minimal at the time. Without having seen Charlotte’s deaf counterpart, the audience still knows that her story has contained similar struggles for ‘normalcy’ and acceptance. Near the conclusion of the film, there is one more glimpse of Reanalde, when she catches the bridal bouquet at Charlotte’s wedding. While having been privy to Charlotte’s experiences all along, we can only conjecture as to what Reanalde’s life has been. Sign Language as ‘Hero’ The power of language, and one’s calculated use of language as a means of escape from a potentially deadly situation, is shown in The River Wild (1996). The reason that any of the hearing characters knows sign language is that Gail, the protagonist, has a deaf father. Victor appears primarily to allow the audience to see his daughter and grandson sign with him. The mother, father, and son are able to communicate surreptitiously and get themselves out of a dangerous predicament. Signing takes an iconic form when the signs BOAT, LEFT, I-LOVE-YOU are drawn on a log suspended over the river as a message to Gail so that she knows where to steer the boat, and that her husband is still alive. The unique nature of sign language saves the day– silently and subtly produced, right under the bad guys’ noses! Stories about Deaf/Hearing Relationships Because of increased awareness and acceptance of deafness, it may be tempting to assume that growing up deaf or having any kind of relationship with a deaf individual may not pose too much of a challenge. Captioning and subtitling are ubiquitous in the USA now, as is the inclusion of interpreters on stages at public events. Since the inception of USA Public Law 94-142 and section 504 in 1974, more deaf children are ‘mainstreamed’ into public schools than ever before. The Americans with Disabilities Act was passed in 1993, opening the doors in the US for more access, more job opportunities, more inclusion. These are the external manifestations of acceptance that most viewers with no personal exposure to deafness may see in the public domain. The nuts and bolts of growing up deaf, navigating through opposing philosophical theories regarding deaf education, and dealing with parents, siblings, and peers who can’t communicate, all serve to form foundational experiences which an audience rarely witnesses. Children of a Lesser God (1986), uses the character of James Leeds to provide simultaneous voiced translations of the deaf student Sarah’s comments. The audience is ushered into the world of disparate philosophies of deaf education, a controversy of which general audiences may not have been previously unaware. At the core of James and Sarah’s struggle is his inability to accept that she is complete as she is, as a signing not speaking deaf person. Whether a full reconciliation is possible remains to be seen. The esteemed teacher of the deaf must allow himself to be taught by the deaf. Other films in this category include: Johnny Belinda (1949, 1982)Mr. Holland’s OpusBeyond SilenceThe Good ShepherdCompensation A Normal Guy-or-Gal-Who-Just-Happens-to-Be-Deaf The greatest measure of equality is to be accepted on one's own merits, with no special attention to differences or deviations from whatever is deemed ‘the norm.’ In this category, the audience sees the seemingly incidental inclusion of a deaf or hearing-impaired person in the casting. A sleeper movie titled Crazy Moon (1986) is an effective example. Brooks is a shy, eccentric young hearing man who needs who needs to change his life. Vanessa is deaf and works as a clerk in a shop while takes speech lessons. She possesses a joie de vivre that Brooks admires and wishes to emulate. When comparing the way they interact with the world, it is apparent that Brooks is the one who is handicapped. Other films in this category include: Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance (South Korea, 1992)Liar, LiarRequiem for a DreamKung Fu HustleBangkok DangerousThe Family StoneDeafness as a Psychosomatic Response to Trauma Literature about psychosomatic illnesses enumerates many disconcerting and disruptive physiological responses. However, rarely is there a PTSD response as profound as complete blockage of one of the five senses, ie; becoming deaf as a result of a traumatic incident. But it makes great copy, and provides a convenient explanation as to why an actor needn't learn sign language! The rock group The Who recorded Tommy in 1968, inaugurating an exciting and groundbreaking new musical genre – the rock opera. The film adaptation, directed by Ken Russell, was released in 1975. In an ironic twist for a rock extravaganza, the hero of the story is a ‘deaf, dumb, and blind kid.’ Tommy Johnson becomes deaf when he witnesses the murder of his father at the hands of his step-father and complicit mother. From that moment on, he is deaf and blind. When he grows up, he establishes a cult religion of inner vision and self-discovery. Another film in this category is Psych Out. Deafness as a Metaphor Hearing loss does not necessarily mean complete deafness and/or lack of vocalization. Yet, the general public tends to assume that there is utter silence, complete muteness, and the inability to verbalize anything at all. These assumptions provide a rich breeding ground for a deaf character to personify isolation, disenfranchisement, and/or avoidance of the harsher side of life. The deafness of a character can also serve as a hearing character’s nemesis. Mr. Holland’s Opus (1995) chronicles much of the adult life of a beleaguered man named Glenn Holland whose fondest dream is to compose a grand piece of orchestral music. To make ends meet he must teach band and orchestra to apparently disinterested and often untalented students in a public school. His golden son (named Cole, in honor of the jazz great John Coltrane) is discovered to be deaf. Glenn’s music can’t be born, and now his son is born without music. He will never be able to share his passion with his child. He learns just a little bit of sign, is dismissive of the boy’s dreams, and drifts further away from his family to settle into a puddle of bitterness, regrets, and unfulfilled desires. John Lennon’s death provides the catalyst for Cole’s confrontation with Glenn, forcing the father to understand that the gulf between them is an artificial one, perpetuated by the unwillingness to try. Any other disability could not have had the same effect in this story. Other films in this category include: Ramblin’ RoseBabelThe Heart Is a Lonely HunterA Code Unkown Deafness as a Symbolic Commentary on Society Sometimes films show deafness in a different country, during another era, and audiences receive a fictionalized representation of what life might have been like before these more enlightened times. The inability to hear and/or speak can also represent the more generalized powerlessness that a culture or a society’s disenfranchised experience. The Chinese masterpiece To Live (1994) provides historical and political reasons for Fenxi’s deafness—her father was a political prisoner whose prolonged absence brought hardship and untended illness. Later, the chaotic political situation which resulted in a lack of qualified doctors led to her death. In between these scenes the audience sees how her parents arrange a marriage with another ‘handicapped’ comrade of the town. Those citizens deemed to be crippled or outcast have different overt rights and treatment. The 1996 film Illtown presents the character of a very young teenage boy to represent the powerlessness of youth in America. David has absolutely no say in where he can live, with whom he can live, and the decisions made all around him. When he is apprehended after a stolen car chase, his frustration at his and all of his generation’s predicament in the face of a crumbling world is pounded out on the steering wheel as the police cars circle him. He is caged, and without the ability to communicate. Were he to have a voice, the overall sense of the film and his situation is that he would be misunderstood anyway. Other films in this category include: Stille Liebe (Germany)RidiculeIn the Company of Men Let Your Fingers Do the ‘Talking’ I use this heading to describe films where sign language is used by a deaf character to express something that a main hearing character can’t (or won’t) self-generate. It is a clever device which employs a silent language to create a communication symbiosis: Someone asks a hearing person who knows sign what that deaf person just said, and the hearing person must voice what he or she truly feels, and yet is unable to express voluntarily. The deaf person is capable of expressing the feeling, but must rely upon the hearing person to disseminate the message. And so, the words do emanate from the mouth of the person who means them, albeit self-consciously, unwillingly. Jerry Maguire (1996) provides a signed foreshadowing of character metamorphosis and development, which is then voiced for the hearing audience. Jerry and Dorothy have just met, resigned from their jobs in solidarity and rebellion, and then step into an elevator to begin a new phase of their lives. Their body language identifies them as separate, disconnected, and heavily emotionally fortified. An amorous deaf couple enters the elevator and Dorothy translates the deaf man’s signs as, ‘You complete me.’ The sentiment is strong and a glaring contrast to Jerry and Dorothy’s present dynamic. In the end, Jerry repeats this exact phrase to her, and means it with all his heart. We are all made aware of just how far they have traveled emotionally. They have become the couple in the elevator. Other films in this category include: Four Weddings and a FuneralKnowing Conclusion This has been a cursory glance at examining the narrative raison d’etre for the presence of a deaf character in story lines where no discussion of deafness is articulated. A film’s plot may necessitate hearing-impairment or deafness to successfully execute certain gimmickry, provide a sense of danger, or relational tension. The underlying themes and motifs may revolve around loneliness, alienation, or outwardly imposed solitude. The character may have a subconscious desire to literally shut out the world of sound. The properties of sign language itself can be exploited for subtle, undetectable conversations to assure the safety of hearing characters. Deaf people have lived during all times, in all places, and historical films can portray a slice of what their lives may have been like. I hope readers will become more aware of deaf characters on the screen, and formulate more theories as to where they fit in the literary/narrative schema. ReferencesMaltin, Leonard. Leonard Maltin’s 2009 Movie Guide. Penguin Group, 2008.Shuchman, John S. Hollywood Speaks. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1988. Filmography Babel. Dir. Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu. Central Films, 2006. DVD. Bangkok Dangerous. Dir. Pang Brothers. Film Bangkok, 1999. VHS. Beyond Silence. Dir. Caroline Link. Miramax Films, 1998. DVD. Children of a Lesser God. Dir. Randa Haines. Paramount Pictures, 1985. DVD. A Code Unknown. Dir. Michael Heneke. MK2 Editions, 2000. DVD. Compensation. Dir. Zeinabu Irene Davis. Wimmin with a Mission Productions, 1999. VHS. Crazy Moon. Dir. Allan Eastman. Allegro Films, 1987. VHS. The Family Stone. Dir. Mike Bezucha. 20th Century Fox, 2005. DVD. Four Weddings and a Funeral. Dir. Mike Newell. Polygram Film Entertainment, 1994. DVD. Gas, Food, Lodging. Dir. Allison Anders. IRS Media, 1992. DVD. The Good Shepherd. Dir. Robert De Niro. Morgan Creek, TriBeCa Productions, American Zoetrope, 2006. DVD. Grand Canyon. Dir. Lawrence Kasdan, Meg Kasdan. 20th Century Fox, 1991. DVD. Hear No Evil. Dir. Robert Greenwald. 20th Century Fox, 1993. DVD. The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter. Dir. Robert Ellis Miller. Warner Brothers, 1968. DVD. Huck Finn. Stephen Sommers. Walt Disney Pictures, 1993. VHS. I Don’t Want to Talk about It. Dir. Maria Luisa Bemberg. Mojame Productions, 1994. DVD. Knowing. Dir. Alex Proyas. Escape Artists, 2009. DVD. Illtown. Dir. Nick Gomez. 1998. VHS. In the Company of Men. Dir. Neil LaBute. Alliance Atlantis Communications,1997. DVD. It’s a Wonderful Life. Dir. Frank Capra. RKO Pictures, 1947. DVD. Jerry Maguire. Dir. Cameron Crowe. TriSTar Pictures, 1996. DVD. Johnny Belinda. Dir. Jean Nagalesco. Warner Brothers Pictures, 1948. DVD. Kung Fu Hustle. Dir. Stephen Chow. Film Production Asia, 2004. DVD. Liar, Liar. Dir. Tom Shadyac. Universal Pictures, 1997. DVD. Looking for Mr. Goodbar. Dir. Richard Brooks. Paramount Miracle on 34th Street. Dir. Les Mayfield. 20th Century Fox, 1994. DVD. Mr. Holland’s Opus. Dir. Stephen Hereck. Hollywood Pictures, 1996. DVD Murder by Death. Dir. Robert Moore. Columbia Pictures, 1976. VHS. Nashville. Dir. Robert Altman. Paramount Pictures, 1975. DVD. One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Dir. Milos Forman. United Artists, 1975. DVD. The Perfect Circle. Dir. Ademir Kenovic. 1997. DVD. Psych Out. Dir. Richard Rush. American International Pictures, 1968. DVD. The Quiet. Dir. Jamie Babbit. Sony Pictures Classics, 2005. DVD. Ramblin’ Rose. Dir. Martha Coolidge. Carolco Pictures, 1991. DVD. Read My Lips. Dir. Jacques Audiard. Panthe Films, 2001. DVD. Requiem for a Dream. Dir. Darren Aronofsky. Artisan Entertainment, 2000. DVD. Ridicule. Dir. Patrice Laconte. Miramax Films, 1996. DVD. The River Wild. Dir. Curtis Hanson. Universal Pictures, 1995. DVD. See No Evil, Hear No Evil. Dir. Arthur Hiller. TriSTar Pictures,1989. DVD. The Shop on Main Street. Dir. Jan Kadar, Elmar Klos. Barrandov Film Studio, 1965. VHS. Stille Liebe. Dir. Christoph Schaub. T and C Film AG, 2001. DVD. Suspect. Dir. Peter Yates. Tri-Star Pictures, 1987. DVD. Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance. Dir. Park Chan-wook. CJ Entertainments, Tartan Films, 2002. DVD. There Will Be Blood. Dir. Paul Thomas Anderson. Paramount Vantage, Miramax Films, 2007. DVD. To Live. Dir. Zhang Yimou. Shanghai Film Studio and ERA International, 1994. DVD. What the Bleep Do We Know?. Dir. Willam Arntz, Betsy Chasse, Mark Vicente. Roadside Attractions, 2004. DVD.

1. Make a list of things to do2. Copy list of things left undone from previous list3. Add items to list of new things needing to be done4. Add some of the things already done from previous list and immediately cross off so as to put off the feeling of an interminable list of never accomplishable tasks5. Finish writing list and sit back feeling an overwhelming sense of listlessnessIt started so well. Get up: make list: get on. But lists can breed listlessness. It can’t always be helped. The word “list” referring to a sequence of items comes from the Italian and French words for “strip”—as in a strip of material. The word “list” that you find in the compound “listlessness” comes from the old English word for pleasing (to list is to please and to desire). To be listless is to be without desire, without the desire to please. The etymologies of list and listless don’t correspond but they might seem to conspire in other ways. Oh, and by the way, ships can list when their balance is off.I list, like a ship, itemising my obligations to job, to work, to colleagues, to parenting, to family: write a reference for such and such; buy birthday present for eighty-year-old dad; finish article about lists – and so on. I forget to add to the list my necessary requirements for achieving any of this: keep breathing; eat and drink regularly; visit toilet when required. Lists make visible. Lists hide. I forget to add to my list all my worries that underscore my sense that these lists (or any list) might require an optimism that is always something of a leap of faith: I hope that electricity continues to exist; I hope my computer will still work; I hope that my sore toe isn’t the first sign of bodily paralysis; I hope that this heart will still keep beating.I was brought up on lists: the hit parade (the top one hundred “hit” singles); football leagues (not that I ever really got the hang of them); lists of kings and queens; lists of dates; lists of states; lists of elements (the periodic table). There are lists and there are lists. Some lists are really rankings. These are clearly the important lists. Where do you stand on the list? How near the bottom are you? Where is your university in the list of top universities? Have you gone down or up? To list, then, for some at least is to rank, to prioritise, to value. Is it this that produces listlessness? The sense that while you might want to rank your ten favourite films in a list, listing is something that is constantly happening to you, happening around you; you are always in amongst lists, never on top of them. To hang around the middle of lists might be all that you can hope for: no possibility of sudden lurching from the top spot; no urgent worries that you might be heading for demotion too quickly.But ranking is only one aspect of listing. Sometimes listing has a more flattening effect. I once worked as a cash-in-hand auditor (in this case a posh name for someone who counts things). A group of us (many of whom were seriously stoned) were bussed to factories and warehouses where we had to count the stock. We had to make lists of items and simply count what there was: for large items this was relatively easy, but for the myriad of miniscule parts this seemed a task for Sisyphus. In a power-tool factory in some unprepossessing town on the outskirts of London (was it Slough or Croydon or somewhere else?) we had to count bolts, nuts, washers, flex, rivets, and so on. Of course after a while we just made it up—guesstimates—as they say. A box of thousands of 6mm metal washers is a homogenous set in a list of heterogeneous parts that itself starts looking homogenous as it takes its part in the list. Listing dedifferentiates in the act of differentiating.The task of making lists, of filling-in lists, of having a list of tasks to complete encourages listlessness because to list lists towards exhaustiveness and exhaustion. Archives are lists and lists are often archives and archived. Those that work on lists and on archives constantly battle the fatigue of too many lists, of too much exhaustiveness. But could exhaustion be embraced as a necessary mood with which to deal with lists and archives? Might listlessness be something of a methodological orientation that has its own productivity in the face of so many lists?At my university there resides an archive that can appear to be a list of lists. It is the Mass-Observation archive, begun at the end of 1936 and, with a sizeable hiatus in the 1960s and 1970s, is still going today. (For a full account of Mass-Observation, see Highmore, Everyday Life chapter 6, and Hubble; for examples of Mass-Observation material, see Calder and Sheridan, and Highmore, Ordinary chapter 4; for analysis of Mass-Observation from the point of view of the observer, see Sheridan, Street, and Bloome. The flavour of the project as it emerges in the late 1930s is best conveyed by consulting Mass-Observation, Mass-Observation, First Year’s Work, and Britain.) It was begun by three men: the filmmaker Humphrey Jennings, the poet and sociologist Charles Madge, and the ornithologist and anthropologist-of-the-near Tom Harrisson. Both Jennings and Madge were heavily involved in promoting a form of social surrealism that might see buried forces in the coincidences of daily life as well as in the machinations and contingency of large political and social events (the abdication crisis, the burning of the Crystal Palace—both in late 1936). Harrisson brought a form of amateur anthropology with him that would scour football crowds, pub clientele, and cinema queues for ritualistic and symbolic forms. Mass-Observation quickly recruited a large group of voluntary observers (about a thousand) who would be “the meteorological stations from whose reports a weather-map of popular feeling can be compiled” (Mass-Observation, Mass-Observation 30). Mass-Observation combined the social survey with a relentless interest in the irrational and in what the world felt like to those who lived in it. As a consequence the file reports often seem banal and bizarre in equal measure (accounts of nightmares, housework routines, betting activities). When Mass-Observation restarted in the 1980s the surrealistic impetus became less pronounced, but it was still there, implicit in the methodology. Today, both as an on-going project and as an archive of previous observational reports, Mass-Observation lives in archival boxes. You can find a list of what topics are addressed in each box; you can also find lists of the contributors, the voluntary Mass-Observers whose observations are recorded in the boxes. What better way to give you a flavour of these boxes than to offer you a sample of their listing activities. Here are observers, observing in 1983 the objects that reside on their mantelpieces. Here’s one:champagne cork, rubber band, drawing pin, two hearing aid batteries, appointment card for chiropodist, piece of dog biscuit.Does this conjure up a world? Do we have a set of clues, of material evidence, a small cosmology of relics, a reduced Wunderkammer, out of which we can construct not the exotic but something else, something more ordinary? Do you smell camphor and imagine antimacassars? Do you hear conversations with lots of mishearing? Are the hearing aid batteries shared? Is this a single person living with a dog, or do we imagine an assembly of chiropodist-goers, dog-owners, hearing aid-users, rubber band-pingers, champagne-drinkers?But don’t get caught imagining a life out of these fragments. Don’t get stuck on this list: there are hundreds to get through. After all, what sort of an archive would it be if it included a single list? We need more lists.Here’s another mantelpiece: three penknives, a tube of cement [which I assume is the sort of rubber cement that you get in bicycle puncture repair kits], a pocket microscope, a clinical thermometer.Who is this? A hypochondriacal explorer? Or a grown-up boy-scout, botanising on the asphalt? Why so many penknives? But on, on... And another:1 letter awaiting postage stamp1 diet book1 pair of spare spectacles1 recipe for daughter’s home economics1 notepad1 pen1 bottle of indigestion tablets1 envelope containing 13 pence which is owed a friend1 pair of stick-on heels for home shoe repairing session3 letters in day’s post1 envelope containing money for week’s milk bill1 recipe cut from magazine2 out of date letters from schoolWhat is the connection between the daughter’s home economics recipe and the indigestion tablets? Is the homework gastronomy not quite going to plan? Or is the diet book causing side-effects? And what sort of financial stickler remembers that they owe 13p; even in 1983 this was hardly much money? Or is it the friend who is the stickler? Perhaps this is just prying...?But you need more. Here’s yet another:an ashtray, a pipe, pipe tamper and tobacco pouch, one decorated stone and one plain stone, a painted clay model of an alien, an enamelled metal egg from Hong Kong, a copper bracelet, a polished shell, a snowstorm of Father Christmas in his sleigh...Ah, a pipe smoker, this much is clear. But apart from this the display sounds ritualistic – one stone decorated the other not. What sort of religion is this? What sort of magic? An alien and Santa. An egg, a shell, a bracelet. A riddle.And another:Two 12 gauge shotgun cartridges live 0 spread Rubber plantBrass carriage clockInternational press clock1950s cigarette dispenser Model of Panzer MKIV tankWWI shell fuseWWI shell case ash tray containing an acorn, twelve .22 rounds of ammunition, a .455 Eley round and a drawing pinPhoto of Eric Liddell (Chariots of Fire)Souvenir of Algerian ash tray containing marbles and beach stonesThree 1930s plastic duck clothes brushesLetter holder containing postcards and invitations. Holder in shape of a cow1970s Whizzwheels toy carWooden box of jeweller’s rottenstone (Victorian)Incense holderWorld war one German fuse (used)Jim Beam bottle with candle thereinSol beer bottle with candle therein I’m getting worried now. Who are these people who write for Mass-Observation? Why so much military paraphernalia? Why such detail as to the calibrations? Should I concern myself that small militias are holding out behind the net curtains and aspidistra plants of suburban England?And another:1930s AA BadgeAvocado PlantWooden cat from MexicoKahlua bottle with candle there in1950s matchbook with “merry widow” cocktail printed thereonTwo Britain’s model cannonOne brass “Carronade” from the Carron Iron Works factory shopPhotography pass from Parkhead 12/11/88Grouse foot kilt pinBrass incense holderPheasant featherNovitake cupBlack ash tray with beach pebbles there inFull packet of Mary Long cigarettes from HollandPewter cocktail shaker made in ShanghaiI’m feeling distance. Who says “there in” and “there on?” What is a Novitake cup? Perhaps I wrote it down incorrectly? An avocado plant stirs memories of trying to grow one from an avocado stone skewered in a cup with one “point” dunked in a bit of water. Did it ever grow, or just rot? I’m getting distracted now, drifting off, feeling sleepy...Some more then – let’s feed the listlessness of the list:Wood sculpture (Tenerife)A Rubber bandBirdJunior aspirinToy dinosaur Small photo of daughterSmall paint brushAh yes the banal bizarreness of ordinary life: dinosaurs and aspirins, paint brushes and rubber bands.But then a list comes along and pierces you:Six inch piece of grey eyeliner1 pair of nail clippers1 large box of matches1 Rubber band2 large hair gripsHalf a piece of cough candy1 screwed up tissue1 small bottle with tranquillizers in1 dead (but still in good condition) butterfly (which I intended to draw but placed it now to rest in the garden) it was already dead when I found it.The dead butterfly, the tranquillizers, the insistence that the mantelpiece user didn’t actually kill the butterfly, the half piece of cough candy, the screwed up tissue. In amongst the rubber bands and matches, signs of something desperate. Or maybe not: a holding on (the truly desperate haven’t found their way to the giant tranquillizer cupboard), a keeping a lid on it, a desire (to draw, to place a dead butterfly at rest in the garden)...And here is the methodology emerging: the lists works on the reader, listing them, and making them listless. After a while the lists (and there are hundreds of these lists of mantle-shelf items) begin to merge. One giant mantle shelf filled with small stacks of foreign coins, rubber bands and dead insects. They invite you to be both magical ethnographer and deadpan sociologist at one and the same time (for example, see Hurdley). The “Martian” ethnographer imagines the mantelpiece as a shrine where this culture worships the lone rubber band and itinerant button. Clearly a place of reliquary—on this planet the residents set up altars where they place their sacred objects: clocks and clippers; ammunition and amulets; coins and pills; candles and cosmetics. Or else something more sober, more sombre: late twentieth century petite-bourgeois taste required the mantelpiece to hold the signs of aspirant propriety in the form of emblems of tradition (forget the coins and the dead insects and weaponry: focus on the carriage clocks). And yet, either way, it is the final shelf that gets me every time. But it only got me, I think, because the archive had worked its magic: ransacked my will, my need to please, my desire. It had, for a while at least, made me listless, and listless enough to be touched by something that was really a minor catalogue of remainders. This sense of listlessness is the way that the archive productively defeats the “desire for the archive.” It is hard to visit an archive without an expectation, without an “image repertoire,” already in mind. This could be thought of as the apperception-schema of archival searching: the desire to see patterns already imagined; the desire to find the evidence for the thought whose shape has already formed. Such apperception is hard to avoid (probably impossible), but the boredom of the archive, its ceaselessness, has a way of undoing it, of emptying it. It corresponds to two aesthetic positions and propositions. One is well-known: it is Barthes’s distinction between “studium” and “punctum.” For Barthes, studium refers to a sort of social interest that is always, to some degree, satisfied by a document (his concern, of course, is with photographs). The punctum, on the other hand, spills out from the photograph as a sort of metonymical excess, quite distinct from social interest (but for all that, not asocial). While Barthes is clearly offering a phenomenology of viewing photographs, he isn’t overly interested (here at any rate) with the sort of perceptional-state the viewer might need to be in to be pierced by the puntum of an image. My sense, though, is that boredom, listlessness, tiredness, a sort of aching indifference, a mood of inattentiveness, a sense of satiated interest (but not the sort of disinterest of Kantian aesthetics), could all be beneficial to a punctum-like experience. The second aesthetic position is not so well-known. The Austrian dye-technician, lawyer and art-educationalist Anton Ehrenzweig wrote, during the 1950s and 1960s, about a form of inattentive-attention, and a form of afocal-rendering (eye-repelling rather than eye-catching), that encouraged eye-wandering, scanning, and the “‘full’ emptiness of attention” (Ehrenzweig, The Hidden Order 39). His was an aesthetics attuned to the kind of art produced by Paul Klee, but it was also an aesthetic propensity useful for making wallpaper and for productively connecting to unconscious processes. Like Barthes, Ehrenzweig doesn’t pursue the sort of affective state of being that might enhance such inattentive-attention, but it is not hard to imagine that the sort of library-tiredness of the archive would be a fitting preparation for “full emptiness.” Ehrenzweig and Barthes can be useful for exploring this archival mood, this orientation and attunement, which is also a disorientation and mis-attunement. Trawling through lists encourages scanning: your sensibilities are prepared; your attention is being trained. After a while, though, the lists blur, concentration starts to loosen its grip. The lists are not innocent recipients here. Shrapnel shards pull at you. You start to notice the patterns but also the spaces in-between that don’t seem to fit sociological categorisations. The strangeness of the patterns hypnotises you and while the effect can generate a sense of sociological-anthropological homogeneity-with-difference, sometimes the singularity of an item leaps out catching you unawares. An archive is an orchestration of order and disorder: however contained and constrained it appears it is always spilling out beyond its organisational structures (amongst the many accounts of archives in terms of their orderings, see Sekula, and Stoler, Race and Along). Like “Probate Inventories,” the mantelpiece archive presents material objects that connect us (however indirectly) to embodied practices and living spaces (Evans). The Mass-Observation archive, especially in its mantelpiece collection, is an accretion of temporalities and spaces. More crucially, it is an accumulation of temporalities materialised in a mass of spaces. A thousand mantelpieces in a thousand rooms scattered across the United Kingdom. Each shelf is syncopated to the rhythms of diverse durations, while being synchronised to the perpetual now of the shelf: a carriage clock, for instance, inherited from a deceased parent, its brass detailing relating to a different age, its mechanism perpetually telling you that the time of this space is now. The archive carries you away to a thousand living rooms filled with the momentary (dead insects) and the eternal (pebbles) and everything in-between. Its centrifugal force propels you out to a vast accrual of things: ashtrays, rubber bands, military paraphernalia, toy dinosaurs; a thousand living museums of the incidental and the memorial. This vertiginous archive threatens to undo you; each shelf a montage of times held materially together in space. It is too much. It pushes me towards the mantelshelves I know, the ones I’ve had a hand in. Each one an archive in itself: my grandfather’s green glass paperweight holding a fragile silver foil flower in its eternal grasp; the potions and lotions that feed my hypochondria; used train tickets. Each item pushes outwards to other times, other spaces, other people, other things. It is hard to focus, hard to cling onto anything. Was it the dead butterfly, or the tranquillizers, or both, that finally nailed me? Or was it the half a cough-candy? I know what she means by leaving the remnants of this sweet. You remember the taste, you think you loved them as a child, they have such a distinctive candy twist and colour, but actually their taste is harsh, challenging, bitter. There is nothing as ephemeral and as “useless” as a sweet; and yet few things are similarly evocative of times past, of times lost. Yes, I think I’d leave half a cough-candy on a shelf, gathering dust.[All these lists of mantelpiece items are taken from the Mass-Observation archive at the University of Sussex. Mass-Observation is a registered charity. For more information about Mass-Observation go to http://www.massobs.org.uk/]ReferencesBarthes, Roland. Camera Lucida. Translated by Richard Howard. London: Fontana, 1984.Calder, Angus, and Dorothy Sheridan, eds. Speak for Yourself: A Mass-Observation Anthology 1937–1949. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1985.Ehrenzweig, Anton. The Psychoanalysis of Artistic Vision and Hearing: An Introduction to a Theory of Unconscious Perception. Third edition. London: Sheldon Press, 1965. [Originally published in 1953.]---. The Hidden Order of Art. London: Paladin, 1970.Evans, Adrian. “Enlivening the Archive: Glimpsing Embodied Consumption Practices in Probate Inventories of Household Possessions.” Historical Geography 36 (2008): 40-72.Highmore, Ben. Everyday Life and Cultural Theory. London: Routledge, 2002.---. Ordinary Lives: Studies in the Everyday. Abingdon: Routledge, 2011.Hubble, Nick. Mass-Observation and Everyday Life: Culture, History, Theory, Houndmills and New York: Palgrave, 2006.Hurdley, Rachel. “Dismantling Mantelpieces: Narrating Identities and Materializing Culture in the Home.” Sociology 40, 4 (2006): 717-733Mass-Observation. Mass-Observation. London: Fredrick Muller, 1937.---. First Year’s Work 1937-38. London: Lindsay Drummond, 1938.---. Britain. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1939.Sekula, Allan. “The Body and the Archive.” October 39 (1986): 3-64.Sheridan, Dorothy, Brian Street, and David Bloome. Writing Ourselves: Mass-Observation and Literary Practices. Cresskill, New Jersey: Hampton Press, 2000.Stoler, Ann Laura. Race and the Education of Desire: Foucault’s History of Sexuality and the Colonial Order of Things. Durham and London: Duke UP, 1995. Stoler, Ann Laura. Along the Archival Grain: Epistemic Anxieties and Colonial Common Sense. Princeton: Princeton UP, 2009.

The Leichhardt Highway is a six hundred-kilometre stretch of sealed inland road that joins the Australian Queensland border town of Goondiwindi with the Capricorn Highway, just south of the Tropic of Capricorn. Named after the young Prussian naturalist Ludwig Leichhardt, part of this roadway follows the route his party took as they crossed northern Australia from Morton Bay (Brisbane) to Port Essington (near Darwin). Ignoring the usual colonial practice of honouring the powerful and aristocratic, Leichhardt named the noteworthy features along this route after his supporters and fellow expeditioners. Many of these names are still in use and a series of public monuments have also been erected in the intervening century and a half to commemorate this journey. Unlike Leichhardt, who survived his epic trip, some contemporary travellers who navigate the remote roadway named in his honour do not arrive at their final destinations. Memorials to these violently interrupted lives line the highway, many enigmatically located in places where there is no obvious explanation for the lethal violence that occurred there. This examination profiles the memorials along Leichhardt’s highway as Gothic practice, in order to illuminate some of the uncanny paradoxes around public memorials, as well as the loaded emotional terrain such commemorative practices may inhabit. All humans know that death awaits them (Morell). Yet, despite this, and the unprecedented torrent of images of death and dying saturating news, television, and social media (Duwe; Sumiala; Bisceglio), Gorer’s mid-century ideas about the denial of death and Becker’s 1973 Pulitzer prize-winning description of the purpose of human civilization as a defence against this knowledge remains current in the contemporary trope that individuals (at least in the West) deny their mortality. Contributing to this enigmatic situation is how many deny the realities of aging and bodily decay—the promise of the “life extension” industries (Hall)—and are shielded from death by hospitals, palliative care providers, and the multimillion dollar funeral industry (Kiernan). Drawing on Piatti-Farnell’s concept of popular culture artefacts as “haunted/haunting” texts, the below describes how memorials to the dead can powerfully reconnect those who experience them with death’s reality, by providing an “encrypted passageway through which the dead re-join the living in a responsive cycle of exchange and experience” (Piatti-Farnell). While certainly very different to the “sublime” iconic Gothic structure, the Gothic ruin that Summers argued could be seen as “a sacred relic, a memorial, a symbol of infinite sadness, of tenderest sensibility and regret” (407), these memorials do function in both this way as melancholy/regret-inducing relics as well as in Piatti-Farnell’s sense of bringing the dead into everyday consciousness. Such memorialising activity also evokes one of Spooner’s features of the Gothic, by acknowledging “the legacies of the past and its burdens on the present” (8).Ludwig Leichhardt and His HighwayWhen Leichhardt returned to Sydney in 1846 from his 18-month journey across northern Australia, he was greeted with surprise and then acclaim. Having mounted his expedition without any backing from influential figures in the colony, his party was presumed lost only weeks after its departure. Yet, once Leichhardt and almost all his expedition returned, he was hailed “Prince of Explorers” (Erdos). When awarding him a significant purse raised by public subscription, then Speaker of the Legislative Council voiced what he believed would be the explorer’s lasting memorial —the public memory of his achievement: “the undying glory of having your name enrolled amongst those of the great men whose genius and enterprise have impelled them to seek for fame in the prosecution of geographical science” (ctd. Leichhardt 539). Despite this acclaim, Leichhardt was a controversial figure in his day; his future prestige not enhanced by his Prussian/Germanic background or his disappearance two years later attempting to cross the continent. What troubled the colonial political class, however, was his transgressive act of naming features along his route after commoners rather than the colony’s aristocrats. Today, the Leichhardt Highway closely follows Leichhardt’s 1844-45 route for some 130 kilometres from Miles, north through Wandoan to Taroom. In the first weeks of his journey, Leichhardt named 16 features in this area: 6 of the more major of these after the men in his party—including the Aboriginal man ‘Charley’ and boy John Murphy—4 more after the tradesmen and other non-aristocratic sponsors of his venture, and the remainder either in memory of the journey’s quotidian events or natural features there found. What we now accept as traditional memorialising practice could in this case be termed as Gothic, in that it upset the rational, normal order of its day, and by honouring humble shopkeepers, blacksmiths and Indigenous individuals, revealed the “disturbance and ambivalence” (Botting 4) that underlay colonial class relations (Macintyre). On 1 December 1844, Leichhardt also memorialised his own past, referencing the Gothic in naming a watercourse The Creek of the Ruined Castles due to the “high sandstone rocks, fissured and broken like pillars and walls and the high gates of the ruined castles of Germany” (57). Leichhardt also disturbed and disfigured the nature he so admired, famously carving his initials deep into trees along his route—a number of which still exist, including the so-called Leichhardt Tree, a large coolibah in Taroom’s main street. Leichhardt also wrote his own memorial, keeping detailed records of his experiences—both good and more regretful—in the form of field books, notebooks and letters, with his major volume about this expedition published in London in 1847. Leichhardt’s journey has since been memorialised in various ways along the route. The Leichhardt Tree has been further defaced with numerous plaques nailed into its ancient bark, and the town’s federal government-funded Bicentennial project raised a formal memorial—a large sandstone slab laid with three bronze plaques—in the newly-named Ludwig Leichhardt Park. Leichhardt’s name also adorns many sites both along, and outside, the routes of his expeditions. While these fittingly include natural features such as the Leichhardt River in north-west Queensland (named in 1856 by Augustus Gregory who crossed it by searching for traces of the explorer’s ill-fated 1848 expedition), there are also many businesses across Queensland and the Northern Territory less appropriately carrying his name. More somber monuments to Leichhardt’s legacy also resulted from this journey. The first of these was the white settlement that followed his declaration that the countryside he moved through was well endowed with fertile soils. With squatters and settlers moving in and land taken up before Leichhardt had even arrived back in Sydney, the local Yeeman people were displaced, mistreated and completely eradicated within a decade (Elder). Mid-twentieth century, Patrick White’s literary reincarnation, Voss of the eponymous novel, and paintings by Sidney Nolan and Albert Tucker have enshrined in popular memory not only the difficult (and often described as Gothic) nature of the landscape through which Leichhardt travelled (Adams; Mollinson, and Bonham), but also the distinctive and contrary blend of intelligence, spiritual mysticism, recklessness, and stoicism Leichhardt brought to his task. Roadside Memorials Today, the Leichhardt Highway is also lined with a series of roadside shrines to those who have died much more recently. While, like centotaphs, tombstones, and cemeteries, these memorialise the dead, they differ in usually marking the exact location that death occurred. In 43 BC, Cicero articulated the idea of the dead living in memory, “The life of the dead consists in the recollection cherished of them by the living” (93), yet Nelson is one of very few contemporary writers to link roadside memorials to elements of Gothic sensibility. Such constructions can, however, be described as Gothic, in that they make the roadway unfamiliar by inscribing onto it the memory of corporeal trauma and, in the process, re-creating their locations as vivid sites of pain and suffering. These are also enigmatic sites. Traffic levels are generally low along the flat or gently undulating terrain and many of these memorials are located in locations where there is no obvious explanation for the violence that occurred there. They are loci of contradictions, in that they are both more private than other memorials, in being designed, and often made and erected, by family and friends of the deceased, and yet more public, visible to all who pass by (Campbell). Cemeteries are set apart from their surroundings; the roadside memorial is, in contrast, usually in open view along a thoroughfare. In further contrast to cemeteries, which contain many relatively standardised gravesites, individual roadside memorials encapsulate and express not only the vivid grief of family and friends but also—when they include vehicle wreckage or personal artefacts from the fatal incident—provide concrete evidence of the trauma that occurred. While the majority of individuals interned in cemeteries are long dead, roadside memorials mark relatively contemporary deaths, some so recent that there may still be tyre marks, debris and bloodstains marking the scene. In 2008, when I was regularly travelling this roadway, I documented, and researched, the six then extant memorial sites that marked the locations of ten fatalities from 1999 to 2006. (These were all still in place in mid-2014.) The fatal incidents are very diverse. While half involved trucks and/or road trains, at least three were single vehicle incidents, and the deceased ranged from 13 to 84 years of age. Excell argues that scholarship on roadside memorials should focus on “addressing the diversity of the material culture” (‘Contemporary Deathscapes’) and, in these terms, the Leichhardt Highway memorials vary from simple crosses to complex installations. All include crosses (mostly, but not exclusively, white), and almost all are inscribed with the name and birth/death dates of the deceased. Most include flowers or other plants (sometimes fresh but more often plastic), but sometimes also a range of relics from the crash and/or personal artefacts. These are, thus, unsettling sights, not least in the striking contrast they provide with the highway and surrounding road reserve. The specific location is a key component of their ability to re-sensitise viewers to the dangers of the route they are travelling. The first memorial travelling northwards, for instance, is situated at the very point at which the highway begins, some 18 kilometres from Goondiwindi. Two small white crosses decorated with plastic flowers are set poignantly close together. The inscriptions can also function as a means of mobilising connection with these dead strangers—a way of building Secomb’s “haunted community”, whereby community in the post-colonial age can only be built once past “murderous death” (131) is acknowledged. This memorial is inscribed with “Cec Hann 06 / A Good Bloke / A Good hoarseman [sic]” and “Pat Hann / A Good Woman” to tragically commemorate the deaths of an 84-year-old man and his 79-year-old wife from South Australia who died in the early afternoon of 5 June 2006 when their Ford Falcon, towing a caravan, pulled onto the highway and was hit by a prime mover pulling two trailers (Queensland Police, ‘Double Fatality’; Jones, and McColl). Further north along the highway are two memorials marking the most inexplicable of road deaths: the single vehicle fatality (Connolly, Cullen, and McTigue). Darren Ammenhauser, aged 29, is remembered with a single white cross with flowers and plaque attached to a post, inscribed hopefully, “Darren Ammenhauser 1971-2000 At Rest.” Further again, at Billa Billa Creek, a beautifully crafted metal cross attached to a fence is inscribed with the text, “Kenneth J. Forrester / RIP Jack / 21.10.25 – 27.4.05” marking the death of the 79-year-old driver whose vehicle veered off the highway to collide with a culvert on the creek. It was reported that the vehicle rolled over several times before coming to rest on its wheels and that Forrester was dead when the police arrived (Queensland Police, ‘Fatal Traffic Incident’). More complex memorials recollect both single and multiple deaths. One, set on both sides of the road, maps the physical trajectory of the fatal smash. This memorial comprises white crosses on both sides of road, attached to a tree on one side, and a number of ancillary sites including damaged tyres with crosses placed inside them on both sides of the road. Simple inscriptions relay the inability of such words to express real grief: “Gary (Gazza) Stevens / Sadly missed” and “Gary (Gazza) Stevens / Sadly missed / Forever in our hearts.” The oldest and most complex memorial on the route, commemorating the death of four individuals on 18 June 1999, is also situated on both sides of the road, marking the collision of two vehicles travelling in opposite directions. One memorial to a 62-year-old man comprises a cross with flowers, personal and automotive relics, and a plaque set inside a wooden fence and simply inscribed “John Henry Keenan / 23-11-1936–18-06-1999”. The second memorial contains three white crosses set side-by-side, together with flowers and relics, and reveals that members of three generations of the same family died at this location: “Raymond Campbell ‘Butch’ / 26-3-67–18-6-99” (32 years of age), “Lorraine Margaret Campbell ‘Lloydie’ / 29-11-46–18-6-99” (53 years), and “Raymond Jon Campbell RJ / 28-1-86–18-6-99” (13 years). The final memorial on this stretch of highway is dedicated to Jason John Zupp of Toowoomba who died two weeks before Christmas 2005. This consists of a white cross, decorated with flowers and inscribed: “Jason John Zupp / Loved & missed by all”—a phrase echoed in his newspaper obituary. The police media statement noted that, “at 11.24pm a prime mover carrying four empty trailers [stacked two high] has rolled on the Leichhardt Highway 17km north of Taroom” (Queensland Police, ‘Fatal Truck Accident’). The roadside memorial was placed alongside a ditch on a straight stretch of road where the body was found. The coroner’s report adds the following chilling information: “Mr Zupp was thrown out of the cabin and his body was found near the cabin. There is no evidence whatsoever that he had applied the brakes or in any way tried to prevent the crash … Jason was not wearing his seatbelt” (Cornack 5, 6). Cornack also remarked the truck was over length, the brakes had not been properly adjusted, and the trip that Zupp had undertaken could not been lawfully completed according to fatigue management regulations then in place (8). Although poignant and highly visible due to these memorials, these deaths form a small part of Australia’s road toll, and underscore our ambivalent relationship with the automobile, where road death is accepted as a necessary side-effect of the freedom of movement the technology offers (Ladd). These memorials thus animate highways as Gothic landscapes due to the “multifaceted” (Haider 56) nature of the fear, terror and horror their acknowledgement can bring. Since 1981, there have been, for instance, between some 1,600 and 3,300 road deaths each year in Australia and, while there is evidence of a long term downward trend, the number of deaths per annum has not changed markedly since 1991 (DITRDLG 1, 2), and has risen in some years since then. The U.S.A. marked its millionth road death in 1951 (Ladd) along the way to over 3,000,000 during the 20th century (Advocates). These deaths are far reaching, with U.K. research suggesting that each death there leaves an average of 6 people significantly affected, and that there are some 10 to 20 per cent of mourners who experience more complicated grief and longer term negative affects during this difficult time (‘Pathways Through Grief’). As the placing of roadside memorials has become a common occurrence the world over (Klaassens, Groote, and Vanclay; Grider; Cohen), these are now considered, in MacConville’s opinion, not only “an appropriate, but also an expected response to tragedy”. Hockey and Draper have explored the therapeutic value of the maintenance of “‘continuing bonds’ between the living and the dead” (3). This is, however, only one explanation for the reasons that individuals erect roadside memorials with research suggesting roadside memorials perform two main purposes in their linking of the past with the present—as not only sites of grieving and remembrance, but also of warning (Hartig, and Dunn; Everett; Excell, Roadside Memorials; MacConville). Clark adds that by “localis[ing] and personalis[ing] the road dead,” roadside memorials raise the profile of road trauma by connecting the emotionless statistics of road death directly to individual tragedy. They, thus, transform the highway into not only into a site of past horror, but one in which pain and terror could still happen, and happen at any moment. Despite their increasing commonality and their recognition as cultural artefacts, these memorials thus occupy “an uncomfortable place” both in terms of public policy and for some individuals (Lowe). While in some states of the U.S.A. and in Ireland the erection of such memorials is facilitated by local authorities as components of road safety campaigns, in the U.K. there appears to be “a growing official opposition to the erection of memorials” (MacConville). Criticism has focused on the dangers (of distraction and obstruction) these structures pose to passing traffic and pedestrians, while others protest their erection on aesthetic grounds and even claim memorials can lower property values (Everett). While many ascertain a sense of hope and purpose in the physical act of creating such shrines (see, for instance, Grider; Davies), they form an uncanny presence along the highway and can provide dangerous psychological territory for the viewer (Brien). Alongside the townships, tourist sites, motels, and petrol stations vying to attract customers, they stain the roadway with the unmistakable sign that a violent death has happened—bringing death, and the dead, to the fore as a component of these journeys, and destabilising prominent cultural narratives of technological progress and safety (Richter, Barach, Ben-Michael, and Berman).Conclusion This investigation has followed Goddu who proposes that a Gothic text “registers its culture’s contradictions” (3) and, in profiling these memorials as “intimately connected to the culture that produces them” (Goddu 3) has proposed memorials as Gothic artefacts that can both disturb and reveal. Roadside memorials are, indeed, so loaded with emotional content that their close contemplation can be traumatising (Brien), yet they are inescapable while navigating the roadway. Part of their power resides in their ability to re-animate those persons killed in these violent in the minds of those viewing these memorials. In this way, these individuals are reincarnated as ghostly presences along the highway, forming channels via which the traveller can not only make human contact with the dead, but also come to recognise and ponder their own sense of mortality. While roadside memorials are thus like civic war memorials in bringing untimely death to the forefront of public view, roadside memorials provide a much more raw expression of the chaotic, anarchic and traumatic moment that separates the world of the living from that of the dead. While traditional memorials—such as those dedicated by, and to, Leichhardt—moreover, pay homage to the vitality of the lives of those they commemorate, roadside memorials not only acknowledge the alarming circumstances of unexpected death but also stand testament to the power of the paradox of the incontrovertibility of sudden death versus our lack of ability to postpone it. In this way, further research into these and other examples of Gothic memorialising practice has much to offer various areas of cultural study in Australia.ReferencesAdams, Brian. Sidney Nolan: Such Is Life. Hawthorn, Vic.: Hutchinson, 1987. Advocates for Highway and Auto Safety. “Motor Vehicle Traffic Fatalities & Fatality Rate: 1899-2003.” 2004. Becker, Ernest. The Denial of Death. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1973. Bisceglio, Paul. “How Social Media Is Changing the Way We Approach Death.” The Atlantic 20 Aug. 2013. Botting, Fred. Gothic: The New Critical Idiom. 2nd edition. Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 2014. 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