Artículos de revistas sobre el tema "Super paper mario"

Abstract Super Mario Maker (2015) and its sequel Super Mario Maker 2 (2019) have enabled a near-unprecedented amount of user-created level design, with well over seven million stages created to date by players from around the world. Within this vast library of levels, those built according to “troll” or “kaizo” level design rationales - which expect impressive feats of physical ability, puzzle-solving, psychological deduction, and emotional calm from their players - have become especially infamous and lasting. Drawing on literature around “productive play”, high-difficulty “masocore” game design, and gaming as a craft, this paper examines the playful work required to build and upload levels of this sort, and the laborious play that committed Super Mario Maker Players engage in when actually attempting to play them. In the first case, I study how designers create these sorts of levels, the meticulous attention to detail and the hypothesising about player mental states this requires, and how new norms have been created by these designers which reframe Super Mario Maker play. In the second case, I look at the players of these challenges, the sorts of enjoyment or satisfaction they get from these gruelling levels, the skills required to triumph over them, and the thin line between “good” and “bad” kaizo and troll levels. The analysis particularly focuses on the generation of dialogues between designers and players, and the deep emotional and intellectual appeal of such exchanges. The paper concludes by summarising how Super Mario Maker shows us the motivations to both produce and consume extremely challenging gaming content, and the playful work and laborious play required to construct and enable these experiences.

Considerados como mídias interativas, os jogos eletrônicos têm suas características sonoras como fortes auxiliadoras para se obter uma UX (experiência de usuário) expandida: quer como feedback de ações dos jogadores ou como elemento construtor da atmosfera imersiva. As interfaces auditivas são pontes de comunicação designer-usuário que extrapolam os elementos visuais das telas. Os efeitos sonoros e trilhas têm ainda um papel importante para construção identitária do jogo, possibilitando ao jogador ter pleno conhecimento das ações. O presente trabalho buscou avaliar a capacidade do usuário de identificar ações do jogo apenas por seus respectivos efeitos sonoros, com o objetivo de estudar o papel do sound design na UX. Para isso, optou-se pelo estudo de caso da interface sonora do jogo Super Mario Bros., lançado pela Nintendo para o console NES, em 1985, e que deu origem a uma das mais importantes franquias de games da história. O estudo é relevante para o desenvolvimento de novos projetos sonoros em videogames, principalmente levando em consideração a possibilidade de se trabalhar aspectos inclusivos por meio da interface sonora.

Este texto situa o papel da extensão rural no marco de novas iniciativas de desenvolvimento rural que devem ser orientadas pelo imperativo socioambiental. Destaca-se que os processos de transição agroecológica devem sustentar-se nos conceitos e princípios da Agroecologia, razão pela qual buscou-se trazer uma aproximação a esses conceitos, bem como sobre as abordagens que tratam dos níveis de transição que devem orientar as ações dos extensionistas, agricultores ou consumidores envolvidos em processos. Neste sentido, considera-se que os processos de transição agroecológica requerem o apoio de uma Extensão Rural Agroecológica, que supere o modelo difusionista clássico do extensionismo rural e no qual o extensionista além do seu papel como técnico deve atuar como um facilitador. Ademais, sugere-se um conjunto de etapas da transição agroecológica, que vão da dimensão pessoal às dimensões meso e macrossocial, de modo que, na medida em que avança, o processo de transição se torna mais complexo, pois, a cada etapa correspondem novas propriedades emergentes. Portanto, a transição agroecológica não se confunde com a conversão para sistemas orgânicos pela simples substituição de insumos. O objetivo deste artigo é, justamente, refletir sobre a complexidade dos processos de transição agroecológica e sobre o papel que pode desempenhar a extensão rural.

Neste trabalho abordamos a memória como objeto de estudo, a película cinematográfica Super 8 e os filmes domésticos. No embasamento teórico, utilizamos autores como Andreas Huyssen e Pierre Nora (memória), Roger Odin e Lila Foster (filmes domésticos). Nosso objetivo é apresentar os filmes em Super 8 feitos pelo fotógrafo Márcio Assis na década de 1970, a fim de verificar as relações entre sua narrativa oral atual por meio da gravação em áudio de seus comentários do filme, em comparação a sua narrativa visual sobre a própria família na década de 1970. Também fazemos um estudo de como os familiares de Márcio Assis assistem a esses filmes, cerca de quarenta anos depois, por meio da coleta de depoimentos nas redes sociais e entrevistas.PALAVRAS-CHAVE: Audiovisual; memória; Super 8; filmes domésticos. ABSTRACTIn this paper we address the memory as an object of study, the motion picture film and Super 8 home movies. On theoretical basis, we use authors like Andreas Huyssen and Pierre Nora (memory), Roger Odin and Lila Foster (home movies). Our goal is to present Super 8 films made by the photographer Marcio Assis in the 1970s in order to verify the relationship between his current oral narrative through the audio recording of his comments the film, compared to its visual narrative about his own family in the 1970s. We also do a study as family Marcio Assis watch these movies, some forty years later, by collecting testimonials on social networks and interviews.KEYWORDS: Audiovisual; memory; Super 8; home movies. RESUMENEn este artículo, abordamos la memoria como un objeto de estudio, la película cinematográfica Súper 8 y el cine doméstico. En la base teórica, utilizamos autores como Andreas Huyssen y Pierre Nora (memoria), Roger Odin y Lila Foster (cine doméstico). Nuestro objetivo es presentar las películas en Súper 8 realizadas por el fotógrafo Marcio Assis en la década de 1970 con el fin de verificar la relación entre la narrativa oral actual mediante el registro de información de audio de la película en comparación con su narrativa visual acerca de la propia familia, en la década de 1970. También hacemos un estudio de cómo la familia de Marcio Assis asiste a estas películas, unos cuarenta años más tarde, mediante la recopilación de testimonios en las redes sociales y entrevistas. PALABRAS CLAVE: Audiovisual; memoria; Súper 8; cine doméstico. ReferênciasÁLVAREZ, Efrén Cuevas. De vuelta a casa: Variaciones del documental realizado con cine doméstico. In: La casa abierta: el cine doméstico y sus reciclajes contemporáneos. Ayuntamiento de Madrid, 2010. p. 121-166.ASSIS, Bianca Vieira Marques. Filmes domésticos de Júlio e Márcio Assis. 25 jun. 2014. Depoimento concedido a Ana Clara Campos dos Santos por meios eletrônicos.ASSIS, Ana Carolina Furtado de. Filmes domésticos de Júlio e Márcio Assis. Juiz de Fora. 16 mai. 2014. Depoimento concedido a Ana Clara Campos dos Santos em áudio.ASSIS, Márcio de Alcântara. Comentários dos filmes do acervo de Super 8 de Márcio Assis. Juiz de Fora. 11 mai. 2014. Depoimento dado a Ana Clara Campos dos Santos em áudio.ASSIS, Mariana Furtado. Filmes domésticos de Júlio e Márcio Assis. 26 jun. 2014. Depoimento concedido a Ana Clara Campos dos Santos por meios eletrônicos.CARUSO, Carlos Alberto Antonio. Conceitos fundamentais para o estudo do filme doméstico. In: O filme de família: O Fascínio da Preservação da Imagem, Histórias e Memórias. 2012. Dissertação (Mestrado em Comunicação) - Universidade Anhembi Morumbi, São Paulo, 2012. cap. 01, p. 13-32. Disponível em: <http://portal.anhembi.br/wp-content/uploads/Dissertacao_Carlos_Alberto_Antonio_Caruso1.pdf>. Acesso em: 11 mar. 2015.DARGY, P. A prática do super 8 / P. Dargy, N. Bau; adaptação e prefácio da ed. Brasileira de Abrão Berman; (tradução de Luiz Roberto S. Malta). - 4. ed. - São Paulo: Summus, 1979.FOSTER, Lila Silva. Conceitos fundamentais para o estudo do filme doméstico. In: Filmes domésticos: uma abordagem a partir do acervo da Cinemateca Brasileira. 2010. Dissertação (Mestrado em Imagem e Som) - Universidade Federal de São Carlos, São Carlos, 2010. cap. 01, p. 17-53. Disponível em: <http://www.bdtd.ufscar.br/htdocs/tedeSimplificado/tde_busca/arquivo.php?codArquivo=2965>. Acesso em: 11 mar. 2015.HOME Movie Day Rio. 2013. Apresenta informações sobre inscrições e programação do evento Home Movie Day Rio, ano de 2013. Disponível em: <http://homemoviedayrio.wordpress.com/>. Acesso em: 11 mar. 2015. Site.HUYSSEN, Andreas. Passados presentes: mídia, política, amnésia. In: Seduzidos pela memória: arquitetura, monumentos, mídia. 2. ed. Rio de Janeiro: Aeroplano, 2004. cap. 01, p. 09-40.LEAL, Marília Muniz. Filmes de família: lembrança e documento. 2013. 62 f. Monografia (Bacharel em Comunicação Social, habilitação cinema). Universidade Federal Fluminense, Niterói, 2013. Disponível em: <http://www.rascunho.uff.br/ojs/index.php/rascunho/article/view/49/31>. Acesso em: 11 mar. 2015.LINS, Consuelo; BLANK, Thais. Filmes de família, cinema amador e a memória do mundo. Significação. Vol. 39, nº 37, 2012. p. 52-54. Disponível em: <http://www.revistas.usp.br/significacao/article/view/71254>. Acesso em: 11 mar. 2015.NORA, Pierre. Entre memória e história: a problemática dos lugares. In: Projeto História. São Paulo, dez. 1993. p. 07-28.ODIN, Roger. El cine doméstico en la instituición familiar. In: La casa abierta: el cine doméstico y sus reciclajes contemporáneos. Ayuntamiento de Madrid, 2010. p. 39-60.SILVA, Armando. O arquivo do álbum de fotografias. In: Álbum de família: a imagem de nós mesmos. São Paulo: Senac, 2008. cap. 02, p. 41-75. Disponível em:Url: http://opendepot.org/2705/ Abrir em (para melhor visualização em dispositivos móveis - Formato Flipbooks):Issuu / Calameo

Abstract This paper explores the relationship of Scripture to the Lord’s Supper in and for Pentecostal theology and praxis, drawing on a figurative reading of the story of the Emmaus disciples (Luke 24) as a paradigm. The paper’s central claim is that faithful eucharistic participation is indispensable to the faithful reading of Scripture — and vice versa. It is just as our lives are consumed by the Eucharist event that our eyes are opened to see the Jesus of whom the Scriptures testify and that we are made apt for the transforming work of the Spirit. On this basis, a call is made for a robust and authentically Pentecostal sacramentality to orient and ground uses of Scripture in and by the Pentecostal ecclesial community. In addition to fellow Pentecostals, dialogue partners from the wider Christian tradition are also engaged, including, most prominently, Rowan Williams, Jean-Luc Marion, and Robert W. Jenson.

This study focuses on the parallel resolution of the matrix chain ordering problem and the optimal convex polygon triangulation problem on the Coarse grain multicomputer model (CGM for short). There has been intensive work on the parallelization of these dynamic programming problems in PRAM, including the use of systolic arrays, but a BSP/CGM solution is necessary for ease of implementation and portability. Our CGM algorithm is based on Yao's sequential solution running in O(n2) time and O(n2) space. This CGM algorithm uses p processors, each with O(n/p) local memory. It requires at most O(S/p×n2) running time with S communication rounds and with S/p<1. Our algorithm performs better than the algorithm proposed in 2012 by Dilson and Marco when S is less than n/p. We offer several ways of partitioning the problem to solve and study the impact of each partitioning algorithm performance. A CGM solution exists based on Yao's algorithm, but the subdivision of tasks is defined according to the BSP cost model. In this paper, we propose a solution based only on the CGM model specifications. Note that S is the number of super-steps of the CGM algorithm.

Los recientes procesos de convergencia contable que la Ley 1314 de 2009 impulsa de manera definitiva, deben ser comprendidos en el marco de la denominada Nueva Arquitectura Financiera Internacional y, en particular, como consecuentes con el modelo de desarrollo económico neoliberal implementado en Colombia hace ya varias décadas. El trabajo cuestiona que éste sea el único y más importante papel de la contabilidad para favorecer el desarrollo económico y la internacionalización de la economía colombianas, si en ella no se tienen en cuenta otro tipo de mensajes para la equidad y la inclusión social, propósito que supera los alcances de la regulación mundial en contabilidad. Para soportar dicho cuestionamiento e iniciar propuestas para la construcción de un nuevo rol de la contabilidad, no sólo al servicio del mercado sino de la sociedad en general, es imprescindible generar acuerdo conceptual, histórico y teórico acerca del neoliberalismo y relacionarlo con los procesos de regu- lación contable que se adelantan hoy en Colombia y a nivel mundial.

La nueva concepción del Ejército español como instrumento al servicio de la causa de la paz internacional ha contribuido a configurar una nueva imagen que supere todos los tópicos y los prejuicios tan generalizados entre los ciudadanos sobre la institución armada. Dentro de ese marco, ésta pretende ser una reflexión documentada sobre la imagen que los españoles han tenido tradicionalmente de sus Ejércitos, particularmente del de Tierra, como consecuencia de las repetidas disfunciones de esta institución manifestadas en dos planos: por un lado, la propia ineficacia e incompetencia profesional del Ejército a la hora de cumplir satisfactoriamente, dentro de su ámbito específico, las misiones que tenía encomendadas, al tiempo que se sacrificaban inútil y repetidamente miles de vidas humanas; por otro, el papel de gendarme de su propio pueblo, de fuerza de ocupación desplegada sobre el territorio nacional, no para la defensa del mismo ante un enemigo externo, sino para conjurar cualquier movimiento del llamado “enemigo interior”.

The late medieval panel painting of the Assumption of Virgin Mary from the Collection of the National Museum in Poznań was most likely created in Greater Poland (Wielkopolska), probably in Poznań, in the early 16th century. Scholars have pointed out the connection of its iconography with several other art pieces from the area of Greater Poland. In the light of these findings, our painting seemed to be traditional in the terms of form, as well as of content. This paper shows that some formal solutions and motifs used in the painting from Poznań differ from a typical iconographic practice, and it has only partial coverage in literary sources. The Apostles’ behaviour not fully corresponding to the subject and the chair in which an unidentified Apostle is sitting in a strangely complicated pose by the sarcophagus are the exceptional traits of the Poznań painting. The reason for their presence is the fact that the painter quoted a large part of the copperplate engraving of the Netherlandish Master IAM of Zwolle on a completely different subject: the Last Supper. The painter repeated selected elements quite accurately, without trying too much to adopt them to the new context. The Poznań painting is one of the countless examples of the use of prints as a pattern in the late medieval workshop practice. But at the same time, it belongs to the smaller in number works that were created in a more sophisticated way, through a compilation of motifs taken from various sources, combined with iconographic transformations. The paintings of Jörg Stoker, active in Ulm, and the prominent Antwerp artist Joos van Cleve analysed in the paper, are the examples of the application of a similar creative procedure. The last part of the text is devoted to the reception of the copperplate engraving by Master IAM of Zwolle, which determined so markedly the form and iconography of the painting at the National Museum in Poznań. The range of impact of this pattern, including Northern France, Greater Poland, Austria, Southern Germany (?), Northern Italy, Sardinia and Castilla, illustrates how universal, despite all the regional differences, the visual culture of Latin Europe was at the time.

<p class="VARAbstract">Can we preserve cultural heritage and, consequently, the memory of the past? To answer this question, one should look at the digital revolution that the world has gone through in recent decades and analyse the complex and the dialectical relationship between cultural heritage and new technologies. Thanks to these, increasingly accurate reconstructions of archaeological sites and historical monuments are possible. The resulting digital replicas are fundamental to experience and understand cultural heritage in innovative ways: they have complex and dynamic relationships with the original objects. This research paper highlights the importance and the scientific validity of digital replicas aimed at understanding, enhancing and protecting cultural heritage. The study focuses on the virtual reconstruction of the constructive phases, from the mid-15^th century to date, of one of the most emblematic Gothic-Renaissance buildings in the city of Milan (Italy): the convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie, famous worldwide for hosting Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper painting. This site proved to be an ideal case study because of its troubled and little-known history that led to numerous changes over the centuries. Thanks to a methodological approach based on the analysis of the documentary sources and three-dimensional (3D) modelling, it was possible to outline the chronological succession of the convent transformations; the way in which these overlapped the pre-existing structures was described starting from the Renaissance harmonious and organic interventions, to finally reach 18^th-19^thcenturies inhomogeneous and incompatible additions. Finally, the research was completed by mapping the 3D models based on the sources used and their different levels of accuracy. The 3D models have thus become a valid tool for checking and verifying the reconstruction hypotheses.</p><p class="VARAbstract">Highlights:</p><ul><li><p>The study focused on the virtual reconstruction of the convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie, one of the most emblematicGothic-Renaissance buildings in the city of Milan.</p></li><li><p>By combining data from documentary sources, architectural treatises, period photos and digital survey, the mainbuilding phases of the convent, from the 15th century to date, were digitally reconstructed.</p></li><li><p>The 3D models are enriched with information about the accuracy of the digital reconstruction, creating 3D databasesthat can be easily consulted and updated.</p></li></ul>

No presente número da Texto Livre, o nosso desfio foi no sentido de abordar as Humanidades Digitais construindo um leque de participações que fosse expressivo desta disciplina que, sendo recente, tem apresentado uma evolução que se expressa, desde logo, nos múltiplos ajustes na sua denominação.Tomamos como ponto de partida a premissa de que o texto é, por natureza, multidimensional e elástico, polifônico e polimórfico, o que o torna interpretável e traduzível de muitas maneiras. Por outras palavras, convocamos à reflexão a forma como o texto evolui e se transforma através da nova parceria e confronto entre humanos e máquinas?Em resposta ao desafio, encontramos diferentes abordagens e exercícios do texto quando ligado à tecnologia computacional e digital. Assim, no presente número contamos, na secão Linguística e Tecnologia, com o contributo de Gabriel Pérez Salazar, com o texto “El meme em Internet como texto digital: caracterización y usos sociales em processos electorales”, que nos convoca a ver o texto, em contexto das Humanidades Digitais, a partir de uma reflexão do uso de memes (texto-imagem) como recurso de enunciação nas campanhas eleitorais. Esta seção é complementada com a proposta de Flavia Susana Krul, com o artigo “O texto electrónico e as suas particularidades Textuais”, que se debruça sobre as convergências e divergências entre a leitura em dois suportes diferentes, o papel e a tela do computador.Na secão Educação e tecnologia, os investigadores Ricardo-Adán Salas-Rueda, Érika-Patricia Salas-Rueda e Rodrigo-David Salas-Rueda apresentam o estudo de caso em torno do processo educativo sobre o exercício da Hipóteses (APEPH), que é operacionalizado pelo modelo de instruções ASSURE, demonstrando que o aplicativo APEPH facilita o processo de ensino-aprendizagem. Na mesma linha, o texto “As narrativas digitais interativas e transmídia e a sua aplicação na aprendizagem: o storytelling encontrou o CONSTRUIT e partiram em busca do SLIDE” apresenta duas aplicações de aprendizagem que fazem uso da ligação das humanidades com as ciências computacionais, ambas utilizando a narrativa como ferramenta de aprendizagem.Na seção Semiótica e Tecnologia, Mário Sérgio Teodora da Silva Júnior apresenta o estudo de caso “Apontamentos sobre a narratividade e a conceptualização do ato de jogar no jogo Super Mario”, identificando as marcações no enunciado do videogame Super Mario World.Na Seção Comunicação e Tecnologia, Vagner Aparecido de Moura apresenta o texto “Novas maneiras de ressignificar, de participar e de colaborar na era da mobilidade informacional”, confrontando os conceitos de mobilidade e comunicação de massa em contexto de transmodernidade. Na mesma seção, Branco Di Fátima, Filipe Montargil e Sandra Miranda, apresentam-nos o artigo “Estudando os comportamentos online: premissas e desafios no desenvolvimento de um painel de utilizadores de Internet”, que nos introduz no projeto pioneiro Living Labo On Media Content and Platforms (LLMCP), que desenvolveu uma extensão do Google Chrome capaz de monitorizar, em tempo real, a navegação dos utilizadores da Internet através desse browser.O artigo de Érica Camillo Azzellini, João Alexandre Peschanski e Fernando Jorge da Paixão, “As potencialidades de narrativas estruturadas para o jornalismo computacional: competências jornalísticas na elaboração de textos gerados em bancos de dados”, abrem o campo de análise ao texto jornalístico e à sua relação com as ciências da computação. Fecha a seção o artigo dos investigadores Arantxa Carla da Silva Santos, Renata da Cruz Paes e Altem Nascimento Pontes, “Mídia pós-massiva: um levantamento do podcast especializado em meio ambiente como instrumento de conscientização ambiental”.Assim, o presente número percorre, como foi nosso desejo, o texto em contexto das Humanidades Digitais em diversas vertentes, da dimensão gráfica do meme, ao texto digital e computacional como ferramenta de aprendizagem, passando pelo texto do jogo digital, recuperando o texto jornalístico na era das Humanidades digitais e, finalmente, abordando o texto enquanto som, o texto falado, no podcast.

<p><strong>Abstract.</strong> This paper is part of a current of researches that deal with the survey of Cultural Heritage as the first tool of knowledge and dissemination of the memory and value of ancient architecture. The progress of survey techniques and the spread of new tools and measurements instruments obliges frequents update in our project; the survey also compares itself with progression over the time, especially when the context of interest is broad as in the case here described. Here the complex of Santa Maria delle Grazie has been surveyed starting from the Chiostro delle Rane and Old Sacristy, including the room of the Candle man, by Donato Bramante, the Chiostro del Priore, built through the years with the aid of Beltrami and Portaluppi, and the New Sacristy. The cathedral survey and the Last supper room together with The Chiostro dei Morti has not yet been included; this first part has been considered as a first cross section enough to present first problems, techniques and aims. In addition, the destination of the survey in progress has been evaluated on a broad spectrum: from comparison with other Bramante’s masterpieces to the map rendering of some of its decorated parts to the construction of simple meshes for the reconstruction of virtual environments. This is the reason why some part of the complex has been surveyed with more attention and high-detail while other with more simplicity and low-detail, not only to spare time.</p>

Neste artigo apresento um estudo de caso sobre a paisagem linguística na fronteira entre as cidades de Tabatinga (Brasil) e Leticia (Colômbia), com base nos conceitos de paisagem linguística (Bloomaert, 2012; Shohamy, 2010; Cenoz y Gorter, 2006), superdiversidade (Bloomaert y Rampton, 2012; Vertovec, 2007) e metrolinguismo (Otsuji; Pennycook, 2010). Este estudo de caso utiliza como dados de análise imagens de placas e letreiros de estabelecimentos comerciais, localizados próximo ao marco de fronteira entre Brasil e Colômbia, fotografadas durante trabalho de campo nas cidades mencionadas e tem como objetivo pensar a paisagem linguística como um dos instrumentos que podem auxiliar no diagnóstico sociolinguístico dos repertórios comunicativos dos falantes de uma determinada comunidade e o status das línguas nesses territórios fronteiriços. Além disso, proponho pensar a paisagem como um importante recurso para a promoção do multilinguismo e das línguas autóctones invisibilizadas pela hegemonia das línguas oficiais dos países onde se desenvolve o presente estudo. Essa invisibilização é perceptível, conforme aponto no estudo, não apenas na paisagem linguística dessas cidades, mas também no sistema escolar municipal e estadual ao não se observar a presença dessas línguas nos currículos das escolas regulares, revelando a ausência de uma representação identitária e linguística de grupos étnicos que vivem nesse espaço.REFERÊNCIASBEN-RAFAEL, E.; SHOHAMY, E.; AMARA, M. H.; TRUMPER-HECHT, N. Linguistic Landscape as Symbolic Construction of the Public Space: The Case of Israel. In: GORTER, D. Linguistic Landscape: New Approach to Multilingualism. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters Ltd., 2006. p. 7-30.BERGER, I. R. Gestão do .multi/plurilinguismo em escolas brasileiras na fronteira Brasil – Paraguai: um olhar a partir do Observatório da Educação na Fronteira. 2015. Tese (Doutorado em Linguística) - Centro de Comunicação e Expressão, Universidade Federal de Santa Catarina, Florianópolis, 2015. Disponível em: https://repositorio.ufsc.br/handle/123456789/133000 Acesso em: 14 jun. 2018.BERGER, I. R.; LECHETA, M. A paisagem linguística de um campus universitário fronteiriço: língua e poder em perspectiva. Entrepalavras, Fortaleza, v. 9, n. 2, p. 01-19, 2019.BLOMMAERT, J. Chronicles of complexity Ethnography, superdiversity, and linguistic landscapes. Tilburg: Tilburg Papers in Culture Studies, 2012.BLOMMAERT, J.; RAMPTON, B. Language and Superdiversity. MMG Working Paper Print. Göttingen, 2012.BOURDIEU, P. O poder simbólico. Rio de Janeiro: Bertrand Brasil, 1989.CENOZ, J.; GORTER, D. El estudio del paisage lingüístico. Amsterdam: Journal Hizkunea, 2008. P.1-10. Disponível em: https://hdl.handle.net/11245/1.293687 Acesso em: 04 abr. 2019.CENOZ, J; GORTER, D. Linguistic Landscape and Minority Languages. International Journal of Multilingualism, Vol. 3, No. 1, 2006. Disponível em: http://citeseerx.ist.psu.edu/viewdoc/download?doi=10.1.1.573.7767rep=rep1type=pdf Acesso em 15 jul. 2019.CRUL, M. Super-diversity vs. assimilation: how complex diversity in majority–minority cities challenges the assumptions of assimilation. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, 42:1, p. 54-68, 2016. Disponível em: https://doi.org/10.1080/1369183X.2015.1061425 Acesso em 14 ago. 2019.LANDRY, R.; BOURHIS, R. Y. Linguistic Landscape and Ethnolinguistic Vitality: An Empirical Study. Journal of Language and Social Psycology, Mar., v. 16, n. 1, p. 23-49, 1997. Disponível em: https://doi.org/ 10.1177/0261927X970161002 Acesso em 14 ago. 2019.LOMBARDI, R. S.; SALGADO, A. C. P.; SOARES, M. S. Paisagem linguística e repertórios em tempos de diversidade: uma situação em perspectiva. Calidoscópio, v. 14, n. 2, p. 209-218, maio/ago., 2016. Disponível em: http://revistas.unisinos.br/index.php/calidoscopio/article/viewFile/cld.2016.142.03/5558 Acesso em 08 ago. 2019OTSUJI. E.; PENNYCOOK, A. Metrolingualism: fixity, fluidity and language in flux. International Journal in Multilingualism, 7:3, p. 240-254, 2009. Disponível em: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14790710903414331 Acesso em 25 jul. 2019.SCHILLER, N. G., ; CAGLAR, A. Locating Migrant Pathways of Economic Emplacement: Thinking Beyond the Ethnic Lens.” Ethnicities 13 (4): 494–514 , 2013. Disponível em: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/258136583_Locating_Migrant_Pathways_of_Economic_Emplacement_Thinking_Beyond_the_Ethnic_Lens Acesso em 12 ago. 2019.SHOHAMY, E. Language Policy: hidden agendas and new approaches. Nova York: Routledge, 2006. Disponível em: https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203387962 Acesso em 23 ago. 2019.SPOLSKY, B. Prolegomena to a Sociolinguistic Theory of Public Signage. In: GORTER, D.; SHOHAMY, E. Linguistic Landscape: Expanding the scenary. Nova York: Routledge, 2009. p.25-39.STEIMAN, R. A geografia das cidades de fronteira: um estudo de caso de Tabatinga (Brasil) e Letícia (Colômbia). 2002. Dissertação de Mestrado em Geografia, Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro, 2002. Disponível em: http://objdig.ufrj.br/16/teses/581220.pdf Acesso em 05 mar. 2018.VERTOVEC, S. Super-diversity and its implications. Ethnic and Racial Studies, v. 30, n. 6, p. 1024-1054, 2007. Disponível em: http://www.informaworld.com/smpp/title~content=t713685087. Acesso em: 06 jun. 2019.YIN, R. K. Estudo de caso: planejamento e métodos. 2. ed. Porto Alegre: Bookman, 2001.Recebido em 29-11-2019 | Aceito em 10-02-2020

<p>El concepto de la norma fundamental juega, en el marco de la Teoría pura del derecho, un papel esencial. Mediante la introducción de una norma precediendo al objeto de conocimiento, dicho objeto adquiere su carácter normativo. Esa norma fundamental, precisamente, confiere al objeto “derecho positivo” su unidad. Es por ello que, actualmente, no se puede pensar en una norma fundamental separada de<br />la Teoría pura del derecho. Sin embargo, esto no siempre ocurrió así.<br />En los Hauptprobleme der Staatsrechtslehre. Entwickelt aus der Lehre vom Rechtssätze. obra aparecida en 1911, en la cual se basa la Reine Rechtslehre (Teoría pura del derecho), no encontramos el concepto de norma fundamental. En los Hauptprobleme se establece una distinción entre el “ser” (Sein) y el “deber ser” (Sollen) como formas diferentes<br />del conocimiento —dos mundos separados— marcadamente diferentes y recíprocamente independientes. Asimismo, con ello se deja en claro que a partir de un “ser” no se puede derivar un “deber ser”. Esto permite echar a un lado la teoría, muy difundida entonces, de la “fuerza normativa de los hechos”.3 La cuestión del origen del “deber ser” (Sollen) es considerada por Kelsen existente más allá de su observación.</p><p>El punto decisivo es formulado por él de la siguiente manera:</p><p>... la cuestión de la creación ... del “deber ser” (Sollen) no tiene ... cabida en el punto de vista proyectado sobre el deber ser dentro del método de conocimiento peculiar de éste que es el normativo.</p><p><br />Sin duda, si Kelsen hubiera desarrollado desde entonces el concepto de norma fundamental, nos hubiésemos acercado en ese punto a remitir la existencia del “deber ser” (Sollen), ciertamente no al “ser” (Sein), lo que hubiera sido imposible, pero sí a una norma superior, claro, a una norma aceptada.<br />De todas formas, las reflexiones de Kelsen contienen ya lo esencial para la introducción de una norma fundamental, la cual habría de realizarse posteriormente. Por una parte, existe ya la idea de que el “deber ser” (Sollen) solamente puede ser derivado de un “deber ser” (Sollen) y, por otro lado, el conocimiento de que el problema de la última fundamentación del “deber ser” (Sollen) supera los límites la observación científica del “deber ser».<br />Como para entonces no se había elaborado aún el concepto de norma fundamental, los Hauptprobleme concentran su observación en las leyes ya creadas, entendidas como “deber ser” (Sollen) y consideran la elaboración de las leyes como un proceso metajurídico, que se encuentra fuera de las consideraciones [científicas].</p>

This paper shows, through the analysis of the literature and the most recent news, how through the use of neural algorithms and the application of strategies framed in what is called post-truth, certain political groups, mainly those who hold power in democracies with weak institutions, create a segmented reality that serves their interests and that in turn makes the task of exposing the factual facts more complicated.methodologies as long as appropriate teacher training and education processes are in place. Keywords: Post-truth, discrete reality, politics. References [1]P. Berger y T. Luckmann, Construcción social de la realidad, Buenos Aires: Amorrortu Editores, 2003. [2]F. B. Morales Romero y R. R. Martínez Martínez, «La posverdad: identidades colectivas que degeneran las democracias,» Anagramas Rumbos y Sentidos de la Comunicación, vol. 19, nº 37, pp. 111-126, 2020. [3]M. Barón Pulido, Á. Duque Soto, F. Mendoza Lozano y Q.P. Wilmer, «Redes sociales y relaciones digitales, una comunicación que supera el cara a cara,» Revista Internacional de Pedagogía en Innovación educativa, vol. 1, nº 1, pp. 123-148, 2020. [4]P. Iosifidis, «The battle to end fakenews: A qualitative content analysis of Facebook announcements on how it combats disinformation,» The International Communication Gazette, vol. 82, nº 1, pp. 60-81, 2020. [5]D. Kaufman y L. Santaella, «The role of artificial intelligence algorithms in the social web,» Revista Famecos- Midia, Cultura e Tecnologia, vol. 2020, nº Unique, pp. 20-26, 2020. [6]J. Habermas, Historía y crítica de la opinión pública, Barcelona: Gustavo Gili, 2002. [7]E. Noelle-Neumann, La espiral del silencio, Barcelona:Paidós, 2010. [8]D. Innerarity, Politica para perplejos, Barcelona: Galaxia Gutenberg, 2018. [9]I. Blanco Alfonso, «Posverdad, percepción de la realidad y opinión pública. Una aproximación desde la fenomenología, » Revista de Estudios Políticos, 187, vol. 2020, nº 187, pp. 167-186, 2020. [10]V. Bufacchi, «Truth, lies and tweets: A Consensus Theory of Post-Truth.,» Philosophy and Social Criticism, vol. 47, nº3, p. 347–361, 2021. [11]J. Ortega y Gasset, Meditaciones del Quijote, Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1969. [12]c. Belvedere, «El problema de la realidad en el marco de la influencia hispánica en la obra de Alfred Schutz,» Investigaciones Fenomenológicas, vol. 4, nº II, pp. 245-277, 2013. [13]A. Schutz, El problema de la realidad social, Buenos Aires: Amorrortu Editores, 1995. [14]Y. Hernández Romero y R. V. Galindo Sosa, «El concepto de intersubjetividad en Alfred Schutz,» espacios Públicos, vol. 10, nº 20, pp. 228-240, 2007. [15]L. Aguilar Villanueva, «Una reconstrucción del concepto de opinión pública,» Revista Mexicana de opinión pública, vol. 12, nº 23, pp. 125-148, 2017. [16]Wikipedia, «es.wikipedia.org,» Wikipedia, 27 March 2021. [En línea]. Available: https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gallup_(empresa). [Último acceso: 30 March 2021]. [17]W. Lippmann, La opinión público, Madrid: Cuadernos de Langre, 2003. [18]P. Capilla, «De qué hablamos cuando hablamos de posverdad? Análisis del término en siete diarios de calidad.,» ElProfesional de la Información , vol. 28, nº 3, pp. 1-12, 2019. [19]D. Peter, «Public Sphere Participation Online: the Ambiguities of Affect,» Dans Les Enjeux de l'information et de la communication , vol. 19, nº 1, pp. 5-20, 2019. [20]I. Schulze Schneider, «Los medios de comunicación en la Gran Guerra: Todo por la Patria,» Historia y Comunicación Social, vol. 18, nº 1, pp. 15-30, 2013. [21]E. Parisier, The Filter Bubble: What The Internet Is Hiding From, New York: Penguin, 2012. [22]TED, «www.ted.com,» TED, 1 March 2011. [En línea]. Available: https://www.ted.com/talks/eli_pariser_beware_online_filter_bubbles?language=es. [Último acceso: 25 January 2021]. [23]B.-C. Han, La sociedad de la transparencia, Barcelona: Herder, 2013. [24]J. A. O. y. Romero, «Desinformación: concepto y perspectivas,» Real Instituto Elcano, vol. 2019, nº 41, pp. 1-8, 2019. [25]M. Arias Maldonado, La democracia sentimental. politica y emociones del siglo XXI, Barcelona: Página Indómita, 2016. [26]S. Tesich, «A government of lies,» The Nation, p. Online, 6 January 1992. [27]d. Innerarity y C. Colomina, «La verdad en las democracias algorítmicas,» Revista CIDOB d’Afers Internacionals, vol. 2020, nº 124, pp. 11-23, 2020. [28]E. Herreras y M. García-Granero, «Sobre verdad, mentira y posverdad. Elementos para una filosofía de la información., » Bajo Palabra, vol. 2020, nº 24, pp. 157-176, 2020. [29]C. Iriarte, «La era de la inmediatez,» Milenio, p. online, 28 February 2017. [30]J. E. García-Guerrero, «Redes sociales e interés político, » Icono 14, vol. 17, nº 2, pp. 231-253, 2018. [31]A. M. Lorusso, «Between Truth, Legitimacy, and Legality in the Post truth,» International Journal Semiot law, vol. 2020, nº 33, pp. 1005-1017, 2020. [32]K. Amer y J. Noujaim, Dirección, The great hack. [Película]. EEUU: netflix, 2019. [33]R. Trejo, «Escepticismo democrático y medios en disputa en tiempos de la posverdad,» Revista de la asociación española de investigaci{on de la comunicación, vol. 4, nº 8, pp. 2-9, 2017.

Al cierre de la presente edición de INNOVAR, la ciudadanía en Latinoamérica y Colombia se encuentra consternada frente a los hechos de corrupción público-privada que han sido conocidos por la opinión pública en casos como los de Reficar ("Reficar: ¿el escándalo económico del siglo?", 2016) y Odebrecht ("¿Qué es el caso Odebrecht?: claves para entender el millonario escándalo de corrupción", 2017), entre otros. La consternación no se debe tanto a la novedad de los hechos, sino a la dimensión de los ilícitos y a la posición de los implicados (que incluye a múltiples miembros de las élites políticas, económicas y empresariales de varios países de la región). El malestar social crece ante la incapacidad de prevención y la ineficacia en la reacción de los aparatos de justicia. El siglo XXI ha sido especialmente profuso en eventos que visibilizan prácticas corruptas, tanto en el contexto empresarial como estatal: Enron, Worldcom, Adelphia, Tyco, Parmalat, J. P. Morgan, hipotecas subprime, los papeles de Panamá, entre muchas otras (Ashforth, Gioia, Robinson y Treviño, 2008). La dimensión de la corrupción supera las fronteras geográficas, las formas de gobierno de los Estados, las tradiciones culturales y los niveles de desarrollo socioeconómico de los países.El origen de la corrupción, sus manifestaciones y dimensiones, así como los mecanismos para enfrentarla, constituyen un campo de estudio que reclama enfoques inter y multidisciplinarios. Existen aproximaciones desde diversas perspectivas: la economía, la sociología, el derecho, la teoría organizacional, entre otros, y se identifican diversos enfoques y cuerpos de teoría que buscan explicar y comprender tal problemática (Pinto, Leana y Pil, 2008). Desde el punto de vista de la gestión y la teoría de las organizaciones, reconociendo la variedad de paradigmas sobre el asunto, un texto que ya se considera clásico fue el artículo de Diane Vaughan (1999) "The Dark Side of Organizations: Mistake, Misconduct, and Disaster" publicado en Annual Review of Sociology. La importancia del tema, fruto de la profundización de las crisis por corrupción del presente siglo, llevó a que una publicación académica tan reconocida como Academy of Management Review dedicara un número especial al abordaje de este fenómeno en el 2008.Allí, Lange (2008) ha definido la corrupción organizacional como: "[…] pursuit of individual interests by one or more organizational actors through the intentional misdirection of organizational resources or perversion of organizational routines" (p. 710). Esta definición enfatiza los comportamientos y malas prácticas de los gestores como fuente de la corrupción en las organizaciones. Pone el acento, por tanto, en la corrupción como una desviación de los individuos, de los agentes que solo persiguen su interés particular. Sin negar la responsabilidad de los individuos en la corrupción los fallos éticos-, es necesario también desarrollar un enfoque sobre la estructura y el sistema como generadores de corrupción en las organizaciones. El abordaje que desde la ciencia política y la filosofía se ha realizado a partir de la "banalidad del mal" (Arendt, 2003) puede aportar a este propósito en las ciencias de gestión y en la teoría organizacional. La tesis central de este planteamiento es que lo criminal y lo aberrante se pueden convertir en lo legal o en lo axiológicamente valorado como correcto en ciertas condiciones históricas, lo que hace que se establezcan estructuras que promueven lo incorrecto e institucionalizan una forma de lo corrupto. Esto impide que el juicio individual opere como freno ético del mal (Arendt estudió cómo los militares alemanes que participaron en el genocidio judío creían actuar correctamente y simplemente cumplir con las órdenes emitidas por el Tercer Reich).Los últimos años han visto la entrada a la gestión organizacional de perspectivas soportadas en la competencia sin límite, la visión de corto plazo, la gestión por medio del estrés, la generación de inestabilidad psicológica como motivante del desempeño, la amenaza del desempleo y el abrumador consumo y sus efectos sobre el medioambiente; y todo esto tiene lugar bajo el objetivo estandarizado del crecimiento incesante de los rendimientos financieros (con el eufemismo de la "creación de valor"). Estos elementos se han convertido en imperativos institucionalizados y naturalizados que hacen parte de las estructuras de las organizaciones contemporáneas. Gerentes y subalternos señalan: "¡así es la organización, ese es el mercado, todos se comportan igual!". Este contexto normaliza la "astucia" como valor que debe ser premiado, la "viveza" como capacidad a exaltar, la innovación como cualquier cambio formal por el que pagan los consumidores y, en su conjunto, promueven la negación de las consideraciones éticas por el interés general, lo que evita la valoración del impacto de las acciones administrativas sobre las personas, el entorno social y el medioambiente -es decir, negando la otredad-.Así pues, desde esta tribuna que es INNOVAR, convocamos a los investigadores en Colombia e Iberoamérica a realizar aportes teóricos e investigaciones empíricas que enriquezcan nuestra comprensión del flagelo de la corrupción, para plantear propuestas para su identificación, prevención y tratamiento; de esta manera, se pueden superar los enfoques que responsabilizan solamente a los individuos, sin abordar adecuadamente las dimensiones sistémicas o estructurales de la corrupción organizacional.La edición 64 de INNOVAR se estructura en cuatro de nuestras tradicionales secciones. La primera sección está dedicada a Marketing, y en esta publicamos tres trabajos, resultados de investigación.Desde la sede Medellín de la Universidad Nacional de Colombia, el investigador James Sánchez-Alzate y la profesora Luz Alexandra Montoya aportan a este número el artículo titulado "La confianza como elemento fundamental en las compras a través de canales de comercio electrónico: caso de los consumidores en Antioquia (Colombia)". La investigación tuvo como objetivo identificar y recoger los factores que afectan la confianza de quienes compran por medios electrónicos en un mercado local, concretamente en Antioquia. Metodológicamente el trabajo se desarrolló por medio de una encuesta a 500 participantes, cuyo instrumento siguió una estructura de diseño según la escala de Likert, con la que posteriormente se realizaron análisis estadísticos descriptivos. Se concluye que la reputación del vendedor, el riesgo percibido, la privacidad en el manejo de los datos y la seguridad de las transacciones son los factores más influyentes en la confianza de los consumidores en el estudio realizado.Los profesores António Carrizo, Pedro Freitas y Victor Ferreira, de la Universidad de Aveiro, Portugal, son los autores del trabajo "The Effects of Brand Experiences on Quality, Satisfaction and Loyalty: An Empirical Study in the Telecommunications Multiple-play Service Market". El artículo se planteó como objetivo aportar al conocimiento sobre el papel que juega la experiencia de marca, relacionando factores como la satisfacción, la confianza y la calidad en el servicio, en la lealtad hacia esta. El objeto de estudio estuvo compuesto por usuarios del sector telecomunicaciones en Portugal. Metodológicamente se desarrollaron ecuaciones estructurales, para identificar relaciones causales en los constructos para cada factor. Los resultados muestran que la experiencia de marca está significativamente relacionada con la lealtad, la confianza y la calidad. Se concluye que las experiencias de marca pueden ser una oportunidad clara de diferenciación en el sector servicios.Con el artículo "La influencia del consumo simbólico en la intensidad de uso de las redes sociales digitales y el valor percibido de las experiencias", el profesor Gonzalo Luna Cortés, de la Universidad Autónoma del Caribe, Colombia, participa en esta sección de Marketing. El trabajo tiene como objetivo analizar la relación existente entre la congruencia de la experiencia y la identidad, con el valor percibido de la experiencia. También busca aportar evidencia empírica sobre las experiencias de consumo simbólico por medio de las redes sociales. Se realizaron 380 encuestas a estudiantes universitarios españoles, con las que se concluye que la percepción del consumidor, relativa al refuerzo de su propia identidad, aumenta su satisfacción y la intención de recompra. Esto se evidencia de forma muy clara en el consumo por medio de las redes sociales.La segunda sección de este número de la revista está dedicada a las Empresas de Menor Tamaño y presenta dos artículos de investigación.De la Universidad Jorge Tadeo Lozano, Colombia, el profesor Leonardo Santana nos presenta su artículo "Determinantes de la supervivencia de microempresas en Bogotá: un análisis con modelos de duración". La investigación tuvo como objetivo establecer la tasa de supervivencia de las microempresas en Bogotá, identificando las principales variables financieras que determinan el nivel de supervivencia. Con información financiera y de apertura y cierre de 25.523 microempresas, provista por la Cámara de Comercio de Bogotá, se aplican modelos de duración para realizar la medición perseguida. Se identifican como determinantes de la duración de la empresa el número de empleados, la rentabilidad operativa y la capacidad de generación de ingresos para atender el servicio de la deuda.Los profesores Natanael Ramírez, Alejandro Mungaray, José Gabriel Aguilar y Yadira Zulith, vinculados a la Universidad Autónoma de Baja California, México, son los autores del trabajo "Microemprendimientos como instrumento de combate a la pobreza: una evaluación social para el caso mexicano". El artículo tiene como objetivo evaluar la rentabilidad social y económica de un grupo de microempresas (marginadas) de Tijuana (México). Al mismo tiempo, busca evaluar la pertinencia del fomento al desarrollo de la microempresa como política de lucha contra la pobreza y de desarrollo social del país. El trabajo estudia 394 microempresas ubicadas en zonas marginales de Tijuana, que recibieron servicios de capacitación, asistencia técnica y acercamiento a las fuentes de financiamiento. Los resultados del trabajo muestran que la vulnerabilidad de estas empresas es menor una vez son apoyadas, por lo que resulta pertinente el fomento gubernamental con financiación y capacitación, ya que ayuda a paliar la pobreza, promoviendo el desarrollo económico.En nuestra sección de Turismo, se publican dos trabajos resultados de investigación.El artículo titulado "Determinantes estratégicos en la formación de la lealtad del joven residente: el caso de las Islas Canarias" es el resultado de investigación de los profesores José Alberto Martínez, Noemí Padrón y Eduardo Parra, vinculados a la Universidad de la Laguna, España. El trabajo buscó identificar las variables que determinan la formación de la lealtad de los jóvenes que residen en destinos turísticos domésticos (concretamente en las Islas Canarias). A partir de una muestra de 678 jóvenes residentes en Tenerife y Gran Canaria, se desarrolló un cuestionario, y con los datos se construyó un modelo de ecuaciones estructurales. Los resultados muestran que la orientación al mercado, constituye la base para generar procesos que consiguen la lealtad del consumidor, así como que la satisfacción es la única variable que determina la lealtad.Las profesoras Marysela Morillo Moreno y Cororina del Carmen Cardozo Moreno, de la Universidad de los Andes, Venezuela, son las autoras del artículo "Sistema de costos basado en actividades en hoteles cuatro estrellas del estado Mérida, Venezuela". En el contexto de competitividad que presenta el sector hotelero, este trabajo buscó formular un modelo de costos ABC para hoteles cuatro estrellas del estado Mérida (Venezuela), enfatizando en sus aportes a la creación de valor, el control y la reducción de costos. A partir de un enfoque de investigación cualitativo, de campo, de carácter exploratorio, descriptivo y documental, se caracterizó el contexto hotelero (por medio de entrevistas y observación directa), se identificaron sus necesidades y se planteó el modelo, llegando a la identificación de actividades y criterios de asignación del costo. Se concluye que los costos ABC son una herramienta de gestión que orienta las decisiones estratégicas y el control de costos, con diversos beneficios.La sección Aportes a la Investigación y la Docencia de este número recoge tres artículos académicos.Desde la Universidad de Talca, Chile, los profesores Sebastián Donoso-Díaz y Nibaldo Benavides Moreno suscriben el artículo que lleva por título "Descentralización de la gestión de la educación pública e institucionalidad local en Chile: el caso de los directores comunales de educación". Este trabajo busca analizar la institucionalidad y la gestión de la educación pública local en Chile, mostrando los cambios promovidos por los marcos normativos que buscan modernizar la administración pública. Particularmente, el documento se enfoca en el rol institucional y funciones de los jefes de departamentos de educación municipal. Con un enfoque metodológico cualitativo y a través de entrevistas semiestructuradas, se identifican "nudos críticos" en las funciones de los jefes de departamento que deben resolverse. Por ello, el trabajo formula propuestas de reorganización de la educación en el plano local.Se publica en este número el artículo titulado "Una reflexión ex post facto sobre la conducción de estudios multicaso para la construcción de teoría en ciencias de gestión", de autoría de la profesora Ruth Esperanza Román Castillo, de la Universidad Distrital Francisco José de Caldas, Colombia, y el profesor Ali Smida, de la Universitéde Paris 13 Sorbonne Paris Cité, Francia. Este trabajo recibió reconocimiento como una de las mejores ponencias presentadas en el Primer Congreso Internacional de Gestión de las Organizaciones (CIGO), desarrollado en la Universidad Nacional de Colombia, del 17 al 20 de noviembre del 2015. El objetivo de este trabajo es mostrar cómo, desde los referentes metodológicos de los estudios multicaso, se pueden realizar contribuciones teóricas a las ciencias de gestión. Evaluando las contribuciones de Yin (2014) y de Stake (2006), se muestran las potencialidades de la experiencia concreta, la reflexión observacional, la conceptualización abstracta y de la experimentación activa, en los estudios multicaso y sus aportes al desarrollo de teorías en ciencias de gestión.En una colaboración internacional, las profesoras Cecilia Alexandra Portalanza, de la Universidad Espíritu Santo de Ecuador, Merlin Patricia Grueso, de la Universidad del Rosario de Colombia, y el profesor Edison Jair Duque, de la Universidad Nacional de Colombia y de la Universidad Espíritu Santo de Ecuador, son los autores del artículo titulado "Propiedades de la Utrecht Work Engagement Scale (UWES-S 9): análisis exploratorio con estudiantes en Ecuador". El trabajo tuvo como objetivo analizar las propiedades psicométricas de una escala de engagement (compromiso o lealtad de marca) académico en estudiantes pertenecientes a una institución de educación superior en el Ecuador. Las implicaciones de este trabajo en el plano teórico se relacionan con la necesidad de desarrollar un marco conceptual que permita explicar el constructo del engagement en Latinoamérica que, por sus condiciones, podría diferir de lo que ocurre en otros contextos. Desde un punto de vista práctico, la ies en la que se aplica la escala debería fortalecer su engagement, para conseguir un mayor compromiso o lealtad de sus actuales y futuros estudiantes.Finalmente, nuestra edición cierra con el aporte del profesor Carlos Eduardo Maldonado, de la Universidad del Rosario, Colombia, quien realiza una reseña del libro Teoría general de sistemas. Conceptos y aplicaciones, de autoría de Carlos Alberto Ossa, editado por la Universidad Tecnológica de Pereira.

Abstract One challenge faced by reinforcement learning (RL) agents is that in many environments the reward signal is sparse, leading to slow improvement of the agent’s performance in early learning episodes. Potential-based reward shaping can help to resolve the aforementioned issue of sparse reward by incorporating an expert’s domain knowledge into the learning through a potential function. Past work on reinforcement learning from demonstration (RLfD) directly mapped (sub-optimal) human expert demonstration to a potential function, which can speed up RL. In this paper we propose an introspective RL agent that significantly further speeds up the learning. An introspective RL agent records its state–action decisions and experience during learning in a priority queue. Good quality decisions, according to a Monte Carlo estimation, will be kept in the queue, while poorer decisions will be rejected. The queue is then used as demonstration to speed up RL via reward shaping. A human expert’s demonstration can be used to initialize the priority queue before the learning process starts. Experimental validation in the 4-dimensional CartPole domain and the 27-dimensional Super Mario AI domain shows that our approach significantly outperforms non-introspective RL and state-of-the-art approaches in RLfD in both domains.

Roger Emerson, ‘Sir Robert Sibbald, Kt., the Royal Society of Scotland and the origins of the Scottish Enlightenment’, Annals of Science , 45,41-72 (1988). Penelope Gouk, Music Perception 6(1), 113-114 (1988). (Book review of Leta Miller and Albert Cohen, Music in the Royal Society of London 1660-1806 , (Detroit: Information Coordinators, 1987)). Maijorie Grice-Hutchinson, ‘Some Spanish contributions to the early activities of the Royal Society of London’, Notes and Records of the Royal Society of London 42,123-132 (1988). John Henry, ‘The origins of modern science: Henry Oldenburg’s contribution, (essay review of The correspondence of Henry Oldenburg , edited and translated by A. Rupert Hall & Marie Boas Hall, 13 vols., Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1965—1973 (vols. I—IX); London: Mansell, 1975—1977 (vols. X-XI); London: Taylor & Francis Ltd, 1986 (vols. XII-XIII)) British Journal for the History of Science 21,103-109 (1988). Michael Hunter, ‘Promoting the new science: Henry Oldenburg and the early Royal Society’, History of Science 26,165-181 (1988). Michael Hunter & Annabel Gregory, An astrological diary of the seventeenth century: Samuel Jeake of Rye , 1652—1699 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988). D.G. King-Hele & A.R. Hall (eds) Newton's `Principia´ and its legacy (London: The Royal Society, 1988). Nicholas Kurti & Giana Kurti, But the crackling is superb: an anthology on food and drink by Fellows and Foreign Members of the Royal Society (Bristol and Philadelphia: Adam Hilger, 1988). D. Levin, ‘Giants in the earth —science and the occult in Cotton M ather’s letters to the Royal Society’, William and Mary Quarterly 45(4), 751-770 (1988).

En el presente artículo se revisan los argumentos y premisas asumidos por los diferentes investigadores en torno a las controversias que para el primer poblamiento de Europa ha suscitado la polémica entre las cronologías altas y cortas y sus implicaciones en el momento actual de revisión del Paleolítico inferior europeo. Pensamos que las cuestiones cronológicas solamente puede ser debatidas con validez partiendo de un contexto geográfico que supere el esencialmente europeo. Desde esta perspectiva las cronologías altas se han mostrado hasta ahora incapaces de generar un marco teórico alternativo para explicar una secuencia industrial pliopleistocena construida esencialmente con argumentos tipológicos y extrapolada de la africana con serias dicotomías cronológicas, hoy por hoy, lejos de solucionar. Por último, se comenta el hallazgo en los útiimos años de yacimientos en la Península Ibérica con fechas cercanas al millón de años que vienen a plantear nuevos e interesantes interrogantes en este debate.In this paper are revised the arguments assumed by the different scholars in the discussion about the first settiement of Europe with the controversy arised between the called «long chronology» and «short chronology », and its implications in the debate of the Lower Paleolithic of Europe. In our opinión, chronological questions only can be discussed from a geographical context that includes África and the Next Orient. From this perspective the «long chronology» seems unable to créate a theoretical framework to explain an industrial sequence plio-pleistocene made exclusively whit typological arguments and extrapolated from the African sequence with clear chronological dichotomies. Finally, v/e want to denote the finding in the last years of several sites in the Iberian Península with dates around 1 myr ago that introduce new and interesting aspects in this debate.

ResumenDesde Europa, en un contexto global de crisis económica, social y ambiental, agravado en el caso español por las consecuencias de la burbuja inmobiliaria, se preconiza la apuesta por la Regeneración Urbana Integrada enmarcada dentro de la Estrategia de Desarrollo Urbano Sostenible Integrado (MHAP, 2015). Aunque ambas estrategias tienen continuidad con el modelo de intervención urbana territorializada de enfoque integrado, impulsadas mediante programas de financiación europeos y dirigidas a barrios desfavorecidos, se incorpora la visión, hasta ahora poco visible, de la necesidad de considerar estas áreas como parte de una ciudad concebida como un todo y en la que resulta fundamental el equilibrio entre sus partes. Esta idea de la rehabilitación urbana como una herramienta de cohesión global, apenas tratada hasta ahora, precisa de un nuevo marco que permita evaluar los resultados de las acciones desarrolladas hasta la fecha, de forma que sus experiencias puedan servir de base para desarrollar nuevas propuestas.Este artículo parte de la necesidad, urgente en el contexto español en el que se enmarca, de definir un nuevo modelo de rehabilitación urbana, que además de integrar las políticas sectoriales y la participación de todos los agentes, incluya el objetivo de la integración de los barrios en un modelo integrado de ciudad. Para ello, plantea un modelo de análisis del objetivo de integración que supere las metodologías, en muchos casos sectoriales, de las actuales políticas e intervención en barrios. AbstractIn the European context of economic, social and environmental crisis, we find theSpanish case where its context is hardly worse, as consequences of an economic model based on real estate market. From this point the European Union’s commitment advocates the Integrated Urban Regeneration framed in the overall context of the strategy for Integrated Sustainable Urban Development (MHAP, 2015). Moreover, both strategies establish some continuity with the line of area-based urban interventions with integrated approach promoted by European programs and targeted on disadvantaged neighbourhoods. Equally the vision of the city as a whole and the necessary balance between its parts has been incorporated to them. This last issue, treated so far in a context with falling interest in planning, requires a new analysis framework to assess the actions taken and also to date and serve as a basis for developing new proposals.Therefore, it is considered the urgency in defining a new model of urban rehabilitation in Spain, which integrates sectoral policies and the (real) participation of all actors, so that, the paper will be based on the need of the neighbourhood’s integration into the city. It is also purposed a possible base of analysis for such integration, which might improve or get over the current urban policy interventions in neighbourhoods.

The original idea for this issue of M/C was for contributors to discuss the many and varying possible meanings of the word "culture" and/or the various uses of the concepts of culture (in general) and cultures (in particular). If that original project had stood, then only the papers in the "Cultural Theory" middle section (Laba, McHoul, Mules) would have filled the brief in the strictest sense. In that section, Martin Laba begins by taking apart philosophical and anthropological versions of culture and running them up against his own experiences of cultural action in Pakistan (where "cultural action" is opposed to "theoretical insinuation"). Behind Laba's "ethnography", for those who have eyes to read it, lies a deep and trenchant critique of what is now the dominant and, to some extent, restrictive discipline in the area, Cultural Studies. This is followed by Alec's own paper which, on the surface, deals with a rather obscure (and atypical) dialogue of Heidegger's. It could, of course, have been located in the "Crossing Cultures" section (Berger, Degabriele, Gillard, Hyndman). But that's not the main point. The main point is to effect a critique -- in the Kantian sense of pushing to the limits in order to define -- of the idea of culture, by asking "When are we in the presence of a culture and not something else altogether?" The fundamental assumption here is that, ontologically, the cultural is a quite specific domain, contrary to the popular idea that "everything is cultural". Warwick Mules takes this up in a different and original way by asking how the concept of culture is practically challenged by current technologies. His argument is that our idea of culture is always tainted by the idea of physical presence. When new technologies allow that presence to be removed, what shall we then take as "the cultural"? As it turns out, for Mules, the cultural then becomes much more significant and less dominated by its "other" -- the social. As he writes: "the reduction of culture to the social should be replaced by an inquiry into the proliferation of the social through the cultural, as so many experiences of the virtual in time and space". So all of that would make a fine issue in itself. Except that we received much more challenging and contestable papers that opened up the question of culture by showing it rather than saying it. Arthur Asa Berger's paper, to start with, looks like the "pure theory" of Section 2, since it starts with something called "the origins of the term". But, in fact, by looking at travellers' stories -- and so using cultural difference as its sticking post -- and then coming back, after the fact, to the question of culture itself, leaves us wondering about the very idea. His view, that culture makes a "big difference", opens matters up in new ways that "pure theory" could never resolve. Shifting the ground, Maria Degabriele asks what happens when a traditionally non-culturalist discipline opens its doors to the idea of culture. Here, she writes specifically of Business Studies -- perhaps one of the last areas of intellectual inquiry where we'd expect to find culture discussed. Although critical of how Business Studies manipulates the idea of culture, she concludes with the possibility of opening a dialogue between the disciplines and how that may be done. Then we move on, again in the disciplinary sense, to Garry Gillard's investigation of culture in Freud's meaning of the term. If "Freud reads culture like a text", as Gillard says from the outset, then there might be a possible super-text, that is also a mind-culture system. The consequences of such a hypothesis are far-reaching -- because, if Gillard is right, then culture is built into the psychoanalytic project from the start rather than being a mere add-on to an analysis of individual minds. Then the David Hyndman paper takes us back to the more "practical" world by making us read the pages of perhaps the international cross-cultural organ, the National Geographic. Who, in the West, has never seen such pages? Who has never taken this ubiquitous organ as their own way into the culturally "exotic"? What Hyndman does is to take us there -- again -- but with a critical edge. And, in the process, shows us what the common sense idea of culture is in its mediated form. What surprised us, as editors of these pieces, was how often the question of culture overlapped with the question of identity. Somehow the two are intrinsically linked perhaps? To open this possibility, Felicity Newman, Tracey Summerfield and Reece Plunkett stage three quite different and distinct reflections on three equally distinct forms of cultural identity: being a Jew, being a lawyer and being a dyke. What emerges from this is a rather curious paradox: identities are radically different both in their "content" and in the ways in which different persons come to acquire and accept them. What is shown here, even if it's not said, is this: can there be a single theory of cultural identity that can cope with such incredible differences? If not, then identity itself may be a radically and irrevocably fractured concept. Something similar emerges when we look at cultural identities that are specific and local in the geographical sense. Here, Catherine Richardson takes us through the question of culture in an Australian country town, Tamworth, during an election phase. What is opened here is the possibility of islands of relatively stable cultural identity in a world which Richardson sees as otherwise fragmented and fractured and therefore torn by anxiety about cultural identities. Finally, Nadine Wills opens up the questions of cultural identity and cross-cultural alterity by turning to the everyday matter of clothing. Her argument is that "culture defines itself not only by what is contained within but by what is outside its boundaries as well". Working, then, with the dual concepts of borderlines and "transition discourses", Wills shows us how these can be used to analyse cultures as inter-connected small worlds. Susan Luckman & Alec McHoul -- 'Culture' Issue Editors Citation reference for this article MLA style: Susan Luckman, Alec McHoul. "Editorial: 'Culture'." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3.2 (2000). [your date of access] <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0005/edit.php>. Chicago style: Susan Luckman, Alec McHoul, "Editorial: 'Culture'," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3, no. 2 (2000), <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0005/edit.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Susan Luckman, Alec McHoul. (2000) Editorial: 'Culture'. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3(2). <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0005/edit.php> ([your date of access]).

Introduction In October 2008, the UK’s National Videogame Archive became a reality and after years of negotiation, preparation and planning, this partnership between Nottingham Trent University’s Centre for Contemporary Play research group and The National Media Museum, accepted its first public donations to the collection. These first donations came from Sony’s Computer Entertainment Europe’s London Studios who presented the original, pre-production PlayStation 2 EyeToy camera (complete with its hand-written #1 sticker) and Harmonix who crossed the Atlantic to deliver prototypes of the Rock Band drum kit and guitar controllers along with a slew of games. Since then, we have been inundated with donations, enquiries and volunteers offering their services and it is clear that we have exciting and challenging times ahead of us at the NVA as we seek to continue our collecting programme and preserve, conserve, display and interpret these vital parts of popular culture. This essay, however, is not so much a document of these possible futures for our research or the challenges we face in moving forward as it is a discussion of some of the issues that make game preservation a vital and timely undertaking. In briefly telling the story of the genesis of the NVA, I hope to draw attention to some of the peculiarities (in both senses) of the situation in which videogames currently exist. While considerable attention has been paid to the preservation and curation of new media arts (e.g. Cook et al.), comparatively little work has been undertaken in relation to games. Surprisingly, the games industry has been similarly neglectful of the histories of gameplay and gamemaking. Throughout our research, it has became abundantly clear that even those individuals and companies most intimately associated with the development of this form, do not hold their corporate and personal histories in the high esteem we expected (see also Lowood et al.). And so, despite the well-worn bluster of an industry that proclaims itself as culturally significant as Hollywood, it is surprisingly difficult to find a definitive copy of the boxart of the final release of a Triple-A title let alone any of the pre-production materials. Through our journeys in the past couple of years, we have encountered shoeboxes under CEOs’ desks and proud parents’ collections of tapes and press cuttings. These are the closest things to a formalised archive that we currently have for many of the biggest British game development and publishing companies. Not only is this problematic in and of itself as we run the risk of losing titles and documents forever as well as the stories locked up in the memories of key individuals who grow ever older, but also it is symptomatic of an industry that, despite its public proclamations, neither places a high value on its products as popular culture nor truly recognises their impact on that culture. While a few valorised, still-ongoing, franchises like the Super Mario and Legend of Zelda series are repackaged and (digitally) re-released so as to provide continuity with current releases, a huge number of games simply disappear from view once their short period of retail limelight passes. Indeed, my argument in this essay rests to some extent on the admittedly polemical, and maybe even antagonistic, assertion that the past business and marketing practices of the videogames industry are partly to blame for the comparatively underdeveloped state of game preservation and the seemingly low cultural value placed on old games within the mainstream marketplace. Small wonder, then, that archives and formalised collections are not widespread. However antagonistic this point may seem, this essay does not set out merely to criticise the games industry. Indeed, it is important to recognise that the success and viability of projects such as the NVA is derived partly from close collaboration with industry partners. As such, it is my hope that in addition to contributing to the conversation about the importance and need for formalised strategies of game preservation, this essay goes some way to demonstrating the necessity of universities, museums, developers, publishers, advertisers and retailers tackling these issues in partnership. The Best Game Is the Next Game As will be clear from these opening paragraphs, this essay is primarily concerned with ‘old’ games. Perhaps surprisingly, however, we shall see that ‘old’ games are frequently not that old at all as even the shiniest, and newest of interactive experiences soon slip from view under the pressure of a relentless industrial and institutional push towards the forthcoming release and the ‘next generation’. More surprising still is that ‘old’ games are often difficult to come by as they occupy, at best, a marginalised position in the contemporary marketplace, assuming they are even visible at all. This is an odd situation. Videogames are, as any introductory primer on game studies will surely reveal, big business (see Kerr, for instance, as well as trade bodies such as ELSPA and The ESA for up-to-date sales figures). Given the videogame industry seems dedicated to growing its business and broadening its audiences (see Radd on Sony’s ‘Game 3.0’ strategy, for instance), it seems strange, from a commercial perspective if no other, that publishers’ and developers’ back catalogues are not being mercilessly plundered to wring the last pennies of profit from their IPs. Despite being cherished by players and fans, some of whom are actively engaged in their own private collecting and curation regimes (sometimes to apparently obsessive excess as Jones, among others, has noted), videogames have, nonetheless, been undervalued as part of our national popular cultural heritage by institutions of memory such as museums and archives which, I would suggest, have largely ignored and sometimes misunderstood or misrepresented them. Most of all, however, I wish to draw attention to the harm caused by the videogames industry itself. Consumers’ attentions are focused on ‘products’, on audiovisual (but mainly visual) technicalities and high-definition video specs rather than on the experiences of play and performance, or on games as artworks or artefact. Most damagingly, however, by constructing and contributing to an advertising, marketing and popular critical discourse that trades almost exclusively in the language of instant obsolescence, videogames have been robbed of their historical value and old platforms and titles are reduced to redundant, legacy systems and easily-marginalised ‘retro’ curiosities. The vision of inevitable technological progress that the videogames industry trades in reminds us of Paul Duguid’s concept of ‘supersession’ (see also Giddings and Kennedy, on the ‘technological imaginary’). Duguid identifies supersession as one of the key tropes in discussions of new media. The reductive idea that each new form subsumes and replaces its predecessor means that videogames are, to some extent, bound up in the same set of tensions that undermine the longevity of all new media. Chun rightly notes that, in contrast with more open terms like multimedia, ‘new media’ has always been somewhat problematic. Unaccommodating, ‘it portrayed other media as old or dead; it converged rather than multiplied; it did not efface itself in favor of a happy if redundant plurality’ (1). The very newness of new media and of videogames as the apotheosis of the interactivity and multimodality they promise (Newman, "In Search"), their gleam and shine, is quickly tarnished as they are replaced by ever-newer, ever more exciting, capable and ‘revolutionary’ technologies whose promise and moment in the limelight is, in turn, equally fleeting. As Franzen has noted, obsolescence and the trail of abandoned, superseded systems is a natural, even planned-for, product of an infatuation with the newness of new media. For Kline et al., the obsession with obsolescence leads to the characterisation of the videogames industry as a ‘perpetual innovation economy’ whose institutions ‘devote a growing share of their resources to the continual alteration and upgrading of their products. However, it is my contention here that the supersessionary tendency exerts a more serious impact on videogames than some other media partly because the apparently natural logic of obsolescence and technological progress goes largely unchecked and partly because there remain few institutions dedicated to considering and acting upon game preservation. The simple fact, as Lowood et al. have noted, is that material damage is being done as a result of this manufactured sense of continual progress and immediate, irrefutable obsolescence. By focusing on the upcoming new release and the preview of what is yet to come; by exciting gamers about what is in development and demonstrating the manifest ways in which the sheen of the new inevitably tarnishes the old. That which is replaced is fit only for the bargain bin or the budget-priced collection download, and as such, it is my position that we are systematically undermining and perhaps even eradicating the possibility of a thorough and well-documented history for videogames. This is a situation that we at the National Videogame Archive, along with colleagues in the emerging field of game preservation (e.g. the International Game Developers Association Game Preservation Special Interest Group, and the Keeping Emulation Environments Portable project) are, naturally, keen to address. Chief amongst our concerns is better understanding how it has come to be that, in 2009, game studies scholars and colleagues from across the memory and heritage sectors are still only at the beginning of the process of considering game preservation. The IGDA Game Preservation SIG was founded only five years ago and its ‘White Paper’ (Lowood et al.) is just published. Surprisingly, despite the importance of videogames within popular culture and the emergence and consolidation of the industry as a potent creative force, there remains comparatively little academic commentary or investigation into the specific situation and life-cycles of games or the demands that they place upon archivists and scholars of digital histories and cultural heritage. As I hope to demonstrate in this essay, one of the key tasks of the project of game preservation is to draw attention to the consequences of the concentration, even fetishisation, of the next generation, the new and the forthcoming. The focus on what I have termed ‘the lure of the imminent’ (e.g. Newman, Playing), the fixation on not only the present but also the as-yet-unreleased next generation, has contributed to the normalisation of the discourses of technological advancement and the inevitability and finality of obsolescence. The conflation of gameplay pleasure and cultural import with technological – and indeed, usually visual – sophistication gives rise to a context of endless newness, within which there appears to be little space for the ‘outdated’, the ‘superseded’ or the ‘old’. In a commercial and cultural space in which so little value is placed upon anything but the next game, we risk losing touch with the continuities of development and the practices of play while simultaneously robbing players and scholars of the critical tools and resources necessary for contextualised appreciation and analysis of game form and aesthetics, for instance (see Monnens, "Why", for more on the value of preserving ‘old’ games for analysis and scholarship). Moreover, we risk losing specific games, platforms, artefacts and products as they disappear into the bargain bucket or crumble to dust as media decay, deterioration and ‘bit rot’ (Monnens, "Losing") set in. Space does not here permit a discussion of the scope and extent of the preservation work required (for instance, the NVA sets its sights on preserving, documenting, interpreting and exhibiting ‘videogame culture’ in its broadest sense and recognises the importance of videogames as more than just code and as enmeshed within complex networks of productive, consumptive and performative practices). Neither is it my intention to discuss here the specific challenges and numerous issues associated with archival and exhibition tools such as emulation which seek to rebirth code on up-to-date, manageable, well-supported hardware platforms but which are frequently insensitive to the specificities and nuances of the played experience (see Newman, "On Emulation", for some further notes on videogame emulation, archiving and exhibition and Takeshita’s comments in Nutt on the technologies and aesthetics of glitches, for instance). Each of these issues is vitally important and will, doubtless become a part of the forthcoming research agenda for game preservation scholars. My focus here, however, is rather more straightforward and foundational and though it is deliberately controversial, it is my hope that its casts some light over some ingrained assumptions about videogames and the magnitude and urgency of the game preservation project. Videogames Are Disappearing? At a time when retailers’ shelves struggle under the weight of newly-released titles and digital distribution systems such as Steam, the PlayStation Network, Xbox Live Marketplace, WiiWare, DSiWare et al bring new ways to purchase and consume playable content, it might seem strange to suggest that videogames are disappearing. In addition to what we have perhaps come to think of as the ‘usual suspects’ in the hardware and software publishing marketplace, over the past year or so Apple have, unexpectedly and perhaps even surprising themselves, carved out a new gaming platform with the iPhone/iPod Touch and have dramatically simplified the notoriously difficult process of distributing mobile content with the iTunes App Store. In the face of this apparent glut of games and the emergence and (re)discovery of new markets with the iPhone, Wii and Nintendo DS, videogames seem an ever more a vital and visible part of popular culture. Yet, for all their commercial success and seemingly penetration the simple fact is that they are disappearing. And at an alarming rate. Addressing the IGDA community of game developers and producers, Henry Lowood makes the point with admirable clarity (see also Ruggill and McAllister): If we fail to address the problems of game preservation, the games you are making will disappear, perhaps within a few decades. You will lose access to your own intellectual property, you will be unable to show new developers the games you designed or that inspired you, and you may even find it necessary to re-invent a bunch of wheels. (Lowood et al. 1) For me, this point hit home most persuasively a few years ago when, along with Iain Simons, I was invited by the British Film Institute to contribute a book to their ‘Screen Guides’ series. 100 Videogames (Newman and Simons) was an intriguing prospect that provided us with the challenge and opportunity to explore some of the key moments in videogaming’s forty year history. However, although the research and writing processes proved to be an immensely pleasurable and rewarding experience that we hope culminated in an accessible, informative volume offering insight into some well-known (and some less-well known) games, the project was ultimately tinged with a more than a little disappointment and frustration. Assuming our book had successfully piqued the interest of our readers into rediscovering games previously played or perhaps investigating games for the first time, what could they then do? Where could they go to find these games in order to experience their delights (or their flaws and problems) at first hand? Had our volume been concerned with television or film, as most of the Screen Guides are, then online and offline retailers, libraries, and even archives for less widely-available materials, would have been obvious ports of call. For the student of videogames, however, the choices are not so much limited as practically non-existant. It is only comparatively recently that videogame retailers have shifted away from an almost exclusive focus on new releases and the zeitgeist platforms towards a recognition of old games and systems through the creation of the ‘pre-owned’ marketplace. The ‘pre-owned’ transaction is one in which old titles may be traded in for cash or against the purchase of new releases of hardware or software. Surely, then, this represents the commercial viability of classic games and is a recognition on the part of retail that the new release is not the only game in town. Yet, if we consider more carefully the ‘pre-owned’ model, we find a few telling points. First, there is cold economic sense to the pre-owned business model. In their financial statements for FY08, ‘GAME revealed that the service isn’t just a key part of its offer to consumers, but its also represents an ‘attractive’ gross margin 39 per cent.’ (French). Second, and most important, the premise of the pre-owned business as it is communicated to consumers still offers nothing but primacy to the new release. That one would trade-in one’s old games in order to consume these putatively better new ones speaks eloquently in the language of obsolesce and what Dovey and Kennedy have called the ‘technological imaginary’. The wire mesh buckets of old, pre-owned games are not displayed or coded as treasure troves for the discerning or completist collector but rather are nothing more than bargain bins. These are not classic games. These are cheap games. Cheap because they are old. Cheap because they have had their day. This is a curious situation that affects videogames most unfairly. Of course, my caricature of the videogame retailer is still incomplete as a good deal of the instantly visible shopfloor space is dedicated neither to pre-owned nor new releases but rather to displays of empty boxes often sporting unfinalised, sometimes mocked-up, boxart flaunting titles available for pre-order. Titles you cannot even buy yet. In the videogames marketplace, even the present is not exciting enough. The best game is always the next game. Importantly, retail is not alone in manufacturing this sense of dissatisfaction with the past and even the present. The specialist videogames press plays at least as important a role in reinforcing and normalising the supersessionary discourse of instant obsolescence by fixing readers’ attentions and expectations on the just-visible horizon. Examining the pages of specialist gaming publications reveals them to be something akin to Futurist paeans dedicating anything from 70 to 90% of their non-advertising pages to previews, interviews with developers about still-in-development titles (see Newman, Playing, for more on the specialist gaming press’ love affair with the next generation and the NDA scoop). Though a small number of publications specifically address retro titles (e.g. Imagine Publishing’s Retro Gamer), most titles are essentially vehicles to promote current and future product lines with many magazines essentially operating as delivery devices for cover-mounted CDs/DVDs offering teaser videos or playable demos of forthcoming titles to further whet the appetite. Manufacturing a sense of excitement might seem wholly natural and perhaps even desirable in helping to maintain a keen interest in gaming culture but the effect of the imbalance of popular coverage has a potentially deleterious effect on the status of superseded titles. Xbox World 360’s magnificently-titled ‘Anticip–O–Meter’ ™ does more than simply build anticipation. Like regular features that run under headings such as ‘The Next Best Game in The World Ever is…’, it seeks to author not so much excitement about the imminent release but a dissatisfaction with the present with which unfavourable comparisons are inevitably drawn. The current or previous crop of (once new, let us not forget) titles are not simply superseded but rather are reinvented as yardsticks to judge the prowess of the even newer and unarguably ‘better’. As Ashton has noted, the continual promotion of the impressiveness of the next generation requires a delicate balancing act and a selective, institutionalised system of recall and forgetting that recovers the past as a suite of (often technical) benchmarks (twice as many polygons, higher resolution etc.) In the absence of formalised and systematic collecting, these obsoleted titles run the risk of being forgotten forever once they no longer serve the purpose of demonstrating the comparative advancement of the successors. The Future of Videogaming’s Past Even if we accept the myriad claims of game studies scholars that videogames are worthy of serious interrogation in and of themselves and as part of a multifaceted, transmedial supersystem, we might be tempted to think that the lack of formalised collections, archival resources and readily available ‘old/classic’ titles at retail is of no great significance. After all, as Jones has observed, the videogame player is almost primed to undertake this kind of activity as gaming can, at least partly, be understood as the act and art of collecting. Games such as Animal Crossing make this tendency most manifest by challenging their players to collect objects and artefacts – from natural history through to works of visual art – so as to fill the initially-empty in-game Museum’s cases. While almost all videogames from The Sims to Katamari Damacy can be considered to engage their players in collecting and collection management work to some extent, Animal Crossing is perhaps the most pertinent example of the indivisibility of the gamer/archivist. Moreover, the permeability of the boundary between the fan’s collection of toys, dolls, posters and the other treasured objects of merchandising and the manipulation of inventories, acquisitions and equipment lists that we see in the menus and gameplay imperatives of videogames ensures an extensiveness and scope of fan collecting and archival work. Similarly, the sociality of fan collecting and the value placed on private hoarding, public sharing and the processes of research ‘…bridges to new levels of the game’ (Jones 48). Perhaps we should be as unsurprised that their focus on collecting makes videogames similar to eBay as we are to the realisation that eBay with its competitiveness, its winning and losing states, and its inexorable countdown timer, is nothing if not a game? We should be mindful, however, of overstating the positive effects of fandom on the fate of old games. Alongside eBay’s veneration of the original object, p2p and bittorrent sites reduce the videogame to its barest. Quite apart from the (il)legality of emulation and videogame ripping and sharing (see Conley et al.), the existence of ‘ROMs’ and the technicalities of their distribution reveals much about the peculiar tension between the interest in old games and their putative cultural and economic value. (St)ripped down to the barest of code, ROMs deny the gamer the paratextuality of the instruction manual or boxart. In fact, divorced from its context and robbed of its materiality, ROMs perhaps serve to make the original game even more distant. More tellingly, ROMs are typically distributed by the thousand in zipped files. And so, in just a few minutes, entire console back-catalogues – every game released in every territory – are available for browsing and playing on a PC or Mac. The completism of the collections allows detailed scrutiny of differences in Japanese versus European releases, for instance, and can be seen as a vital investigative resource. However, that these ROMs are packaged into collections of many thousands speaks implicitly of these games’ perceived value. In a similar vein, the budget-priced retro re-release collection helps to diminish the value of each constituent game and serves to simultaneously manufacture and highlight the manifestly unfair comparison between these intriguingly retro curios and the legitimately full-priced games of now and next. Customer comments at Amazon.co.uk demonstrate the way in which historical and technological comparisons are now solidly embedded within the popular discourse (see also Newman 2009b). Leaving feedback on Sega’s PS3/Xbox 360 Sega MegaDrive Ultimate Collection customers berate the publisher for the apparently meagre selection of titles on offer. Interestingly, this charge seems based less around the quality, variety or range of the collection but rather centres on jarring technological schisms and a clear sense of these titles being of necessarily and inevitably diminished monetary value. Comments range from outraged consternation, ‘Wtf, only 40 games?’, ‘I wont be getting this as one disc could hold the entire arsenal of consoles and games from commodore to sega saturn(Maybe even Dreamcast’ through to more detailed analyses that draw attention to the number of bits and bytes but that notably neglect any consideration of gameplay, experientiality, cultural significance or, heaven forbid, fun. “Ultimate” Collection? 32Mb of games on a Blu-ray disc?…here are 40 Megadrive games at a total of 31 Megabytes of data. This was taking the Michael on a DVD release for the PS2 (or even on a UMD for the PSP), but for a format that can store 50 Gigabytes of data, it’s an insult. Sega’s entire back catalogue of Megadrive games only comes to around 800 Megabytes - they could fit that several times over on a DVD. The ultimate consequence of these different but complementary attitudes to games that fix attentions on the future and package up decontextualised ROMs by the thousand or even collections of 40 titles on a single disc (selling for less than half the price of one of the original cartridges) is a disregard – perhaps even a disrespect – for ‘old’ games. Indeed, it is this tendency, this dominant discourse of inevitable, natural and unimpeachable obsolescence and supersession, that provided one of the prime motivators for establishing the NVA. As Lowood et al. note in the title of the IGDA Game Preservation SIG’s White Paper, we need to act to preserve and conserve videogames ‘before it’s too late’.ReferencesAshton, D. ‘Digital Gaming Upgrade and Recovery: Enrolling Memories and Technologies as a Strategy for the Future.’ M/C Journal 11.6 (2008). 13 Jun 2009 ‹http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/viewArticle/86›.Buffa, C. ‘How to Fix Videogame Journalism.’ GameDaily 20 July 2006. 13 Jun 2009 ‹http://www.gamedaily.com/articles/features/how-to-fix-videogame-journalism/69202/?biz=1›. ———. ‘Opinion: How to Become a Better Videogame Journalist.’ GameDaily 28 July 2006. 13 Jun 2009 ‹http://www.gamedaily.com/articles/features/opinion-how-to-become-a-better-videogame-journalist/69236/?biz=1. ———. ‘Opinion: The Videogame Review – Problems and Solutions.’ GameDaily 2 Aug. 2006. 13 Jun 2009 ‹http://www.gamedaily.com/articles/features/opinion-the-videogame-review-problems-and-solutions/69257/?biz=1›. ———. ‘Opinion: Why Videogame Journalism Sucks.’ GameDaily 14 July 2006. 13 Jun 2009 ‹http://www.gamedaily.com/articles/features/opinion-why-videogame-journalism-sucks/69180/?biz=1›. Cook, Sarah, Beryl Graham, and Sarah Martin eds. Curating New Media, Gateshead: BALTIC, 2002. Duguid, Paul. ‘Material Matters: The Past and Futurology of the Book.’ In Gary Nunberg, ed. The Future of the Book. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1996. 63–101. French, Michael. 'GAME Reveals Pre-Owned Trading Is 18% of Business.’ MCV 22 Apr. 2009. 13 Jun 2009 ‹http://www.mcvuk.com/news/34019/GAME-reveals-pre-owned-trading-is-18-per-cent-of-business›. Giddings, Seth, and Helen Kennedy. ‘Digital Games as New Media.’ In J. Rutter and J. Bryce, eds. Understanding Digital Games. London: Sage. 129–147. Gillen, Kieron. ‘The New Games Journalism.’ Kieron Gillen’s Workblog 2004. 13 June 2009 ‹http://gillen.cream.org/wordpress_html/?page_id=3›. Jones, S. The Meaning of Video Games: Gaming and Textual Strategies, New York: Routledge, 2008. Kerr, A. The Business and Culture of Digital Games. London: Sage, 2006. Lister, Martin, John Dovey, Seth Giddings, Ian Grant and Kevin Kelly. New Media: A Critical Introduction. London and New York: Routledge, 2003. Lowood, Henry, Andrew Armstrong, Devin Monnens, Zach Vowell, Judd Ruggill, Ken McAllister, and Rachel Donahue. Before It's Too Late: A Digital Game Preservation White Paper. IGDA, 2009. 13 June 2009 ‹http://www.igda.org/wiki/images/8/83/IGDA_Game_Preservation_SIG_-_Before_It%27s_Too_Late_-_A_Digital_Game_Preservation_White_Paper.pdf›. Monnens, Devin. ‘Why Are Games Worth Preserving?’ In Before It's Too Late: A Digital Game Preservation White Paper. IGDA, 2009. 13 June 2009 ‹http://www.igda.org/wiki/images/8/83/IGDA_Game_Preservation_SIG_-_Before_It%27s_Too_Late_-_A_Digital_Game_Preservation_White_Paper.pdf›. ———. ‘Losing Digital Game History: Bit by Bit.’ In Before It's Too Late: A Digital Game Preservation White Paper. IGDA, 2009. 13 June 2009 ‹http://www.igda.org/wiki/images/8/83/IGDA_Game_Preservation_SIG_-_Before_It%27s_Too_Late_-_A_Digital_Game_Preservation_White_Paper.pdf›. Newman, J. ‘In Search of the Videogame Player: The Lives of Mario.’ New Media and Society 4.3 (2002): 407-425.———. ‘On Emulation.’ The National Videogame Archive Research Diary, 2009. 13 June 2009 ‹http://www.nationalvideogamearchive.org/index.php/2009/04/on-emulation/›. ———. ‘Our Cultural Heritage – Available by the Bucketload.’ The National Videogame Archive Research Diary, 2009. 10 Apr. 2009 ‹http://www.nationalvideogamearchive.org/index.php/2009/04/our-cultural-heritage-available-by-the-bucketload/›. ———. Playing with Videogames, London: Routledge, 2008. ———, and I. Simons. 100 Videogames. London: BFI Publishing, 2007. Nutt, C. ‘He Is 8-Bit: Capcom's Hironobu Takeshita Speaks.’ Gamasutra 2008. 13 June 2009 ‹http://www.gamasutra.com/view/feature/3752/›. Radd, D. ‘Gaming 3.0. Sony’s Phil Harrison Explains the PS3 Virtual Community, Home.’ Business Week 9 Mar. 2007. 13 June 2009 ‹http://www.businessweek.com/innovate/content/mar2007/id20070309_764852.htm?chan=innovation_game+room_top+stories›. Ruggill, Judd, and Ken McAllister. ‘What If We Do Nothing?’ Before It's Too Late: A Digital Game Preservation White Paper. IGDA, 2009. 13 June 2009. ‹http://www.igda.org/wiki/images/8/83/IGDA_Game_Preservation_SIG_-_Before_It%27s_Too_Late_-_A_Digital_Game_Preservation_White_Paper.pdf›. 16-19.

Introduction In October of 2004, La Presse asked its Quebecois reading audience a very simple question: “What is your favourite cookbook and why?” As Marie Marquis reports in her essay “The Cookbooks Quebecers Prefer: More Than Just Recipes,” “two weeks later, 363 e-mail responses had been received” (214). From the answers, it was clear that despite the increase in television cooking shows, Internet cooking sites, and YouTube how-to videos, cookbooks were not only still being used, but that people had strong allegiances to their favourite ones. Marquis’s essay provides concrete evidence that cookbooks are not meaningless objects. Rather, her use of relevant quotations from the survey proves that they are associated with strong memories and have been used to create bonds between individuals and across generations. Moreover, these quotations reveal that individuals use cookbooks to construct personal narratives that they share with others. In her philosophical analysis of foodmaking as a thoughtful practice, Lisa Heldke helps move the discussion of cooking and, consequently of cookbooks, forward by explaining that the age-old dichotomy between theory and practice merges in food preparation (206). Foodmaking, she explains through her example of kneading bread, requires both a theoretical understanding of what makes bread rise and a practical knowledge of the skill required to achieve the desired results. Much as Susan Leonardi argues that recipes need “a recommendation, a context, a point, a reason-to-be” (340), Heldke advocates in “Recipes for Theory Making” that recipes offer us ideas that we need to either accept or refuse. These ideas include, but are not limited to, what makes a good meal, what it means to eat healthy, what it means to be Italian or vegan. Cookbooks can take many forms. As the cover art from academic documents on the nature, role, and value of cooking and cookbooks clearly demonstrates, a “cookbook” may be an ornate box filled with recipe cards (Floyd and Forster) or may be a bunch of random pieces of paper organised by dividers and held together by a piece of elastic (Tye). The Internet has created many new options for recipe collecting and sharing. Websites such as Allrecipes.com and Cooks.com are open access forums where people can easily upload, download, and bookmark favourite foods. Yet, Laura Shapiro argues in Something from the Oven that the mere presence of a cookbook in one’s home does not mean it is actually used. While “popular cookbooks tell us a great deal about the culinary climate of a given period [...] what they can’t convey is a sense of the day-to-day cookery as it [is] genuinely experienced in the kitchens of real life” (xxi). The same conclusion can be applied to recipe websites. Personalised and family cookbooks are much different and much more telling documents than either unpersonalised printed books or Internet options. Family cookbooks can also take any shape or form but I define them as compilations that have been created by a single person or a small group of individuals as she/he/they evolve over time. They can be handwritten or typed and inserted into either an existing cookbook, scrapbooked, or bound in some other way. The Internet may also help here as bookmaking sites such as Blurb.com allow people to make, and even sell, their own printed books. These can be personalised with pictures and scrapbook-like embellishments. The recipes in these personal collections are influenced by contact with other people as well as printed and online publications. Also impacting these works are individual realities such as gender, race, class, and work. Unfortunately, these documents have not been the focus of much academic attention as food scholars generally analyse the texts within them rather than their practical and actual use. In order to properly understand the value and role of personal and family cookbooks in our daily lives, we must move away from generalisations to specific case studies. Only by looking at people in relationship with them, who are actually using and compiling their own recipe collections or opting instead to turn to either printed books or their computers, can we see the importance and value of family cookbooks. In order to address this methodological problem, this essay analyses a number of cookbook-related experiences that I have witnessed and/or been a part of in my own home. By moving away from the theoretical and focusing on the practical, I aim to advance Heldke’s argument that recipe reading, like foodmaking, is a thoughtful practice with important lessons. Learning to Cook and Learning to Live: What Cookbooks Teach Us Once upon a time, a mother and her two, beautiful daughters decided to make chocolate chip cookies. They took out all the bowls and utensils and ingredients they needed. The mother then plopped the two girls down among all of the paraphernalia on the counter. First, they beat the butter using their super cool Kitchen Aid mixer. Then they beat in the sugar. Carefully, they cracked and beat in the eggs. Then they dumped in the flour. They dumped in the baking powder. They dumped in the vanilla. And they dumped in the chocolate chips. Together, they rolled the cookies, placed them on a baking sheet, pat them down with a fork, and placed them in a hot oven. The house smelled amazing! The mother and her daughters were looking forward to eating the cookies when, all of a sudden, a great big dog showed up at the door. The mother ran outside to shoo the dog home yelling, “Go home, now! Go away!” By the time she got back, the cookies had started to burn and the house stank! The mother and her two daughters took all the cookie-making stuff back out. They threw out the ruined cookies. And they restarted. They beat the butter using their super cool Kitchen Aid mixer. Then they beat in the sugar. Carefully, they cracked and beat in the eggs. Then they dumped in the flour. They dumped in the baking powder. They dumped in the vanilla. And they dumped in the chocolate chips. Together, they rolled the cookies, placed them on a baking sheet, pat them down with a fork, and placed them in a hot oven. This story that my oldest daughter and I invented together goes on to have the cookies ruined by a chatty neighbour before finally finding fruition in a batch of successfully baked cookies. This is a story that we tell together as we get her ready for bed. One person is always the narrator who lists the steps while the other makes the sound effects of the beating mixer and the dumping ingredients. Together, we act out the story by rolling the cookies, patting them, and waving our hands in front of our faces when the burnt cookies have stunk up the house. While she takes great pleasure in its narrative, I take greater pleasure in the fact that, at three years of age, she has a rudimentary understanding of how a basic recipe works. In fact, only a few months ago I observed this mixture of knowledge and skill merge when I had to leave her on the counter while I cleaned up a mess on the floor. By the time I got back to her, she had finished mixing the dry ingredients in with the wet ones. I watched her from across the kitchen as she turned off the Kitchen Aid mixer, slowly spooned the flour mixture into the bowl, and turned the machine back on. She watched the batter mix until the flour had been absorbed and then repeated the process. While I am very thankful that she did not try to add the vanilla or the chocolate chips, this experience essentially proves that one can learn through simple observation and repetition. It is true that she did not have a cookbook in front of her, that she did not know the precise measurements of the ingredients being put into the bowl, and that at her age she would not have been able to make this recipe without my help. However, this examples proves Heldke’s argument that foodmaking is a thoughtful process as it is as much about instinct as it is about following a recipe. Once she is able to read, my daughter will be able to use the instincts that she has developed in her illiterate years to help her better understand written recipes. What is also important to note about this scenario is that I did have a recipe and that I was essentially the one in charge. My culinary instincts are good. I have been baking and cooking since I was a child and it is very much a part of my life. We rarely buy cookies or cakes from the store because we make them from scratch. Yet, I am a working mother who does not spend her days in the kitchen. Thus, my instincts need prompting and guidance from written instructions. Significantly, the handwritten recipe I was using that day comes from the personal cookbook that has been evolving since I left home. In their recent works Eat My Words and Baking as Biography, Janet Theophano and Diane Tye analyse homemade, hand-crafted, and personal cookbooks to show that these texts are the means through which we can understand individuals at a given time and in a given place. Theophano, for example, analyses old cookbooks to understand the impact of social networking in identity making. By looking at the types of recipes and number of people who have written themselves into these women’s books, she shows that cookbook creation has always been a social activity that reveals personal and social identity. In a slightly different way, Tye uses her own mother’s recipes to better understand a person she can no longer talk to. Through recipes, she is able to recreate her deceased mother’s life and thus connect with her on a personal and emotional level. Although academics have traditionally ignored cookbooks as being mundane and unprofessional, the work of these recent critics illustrates the extent to which cookbooks provide an important way of understanding society and people’s places within it. While this essay cannot begin to analyse the large content of my cookbook, this one scenario echoes these recent scholarly claims that personal cookbooks are a significant addition to the academic world and must be read thoughtfully, as Heldke argues, for both the recipes’s theory and for the practical applications and stories embedded within them. In this particular example, Karena and I were making a chocolate a chip cake—a recipe that has been passed down from my Oma. It is a complicated recipe because it requires a weight scale rather than measuring cups and because instructions such as “add enough milk to make a soft dough” are far from precise. The recipe is not just a meaningless entry I found in a random book or on a random website but rather a multilayered narrative and an expression of my personal heritage. As Theophano and Tye have argued, recipes are a way to connect with family, friends, and specific groups of people either still living or long gone. Recipes are a way to create and relive memories. While I am lucky that my Oma is still very much alive, I imagine that I will someday use this recipe as a way to reconnect with her. When I serve this cake to my family members, we will surely be reminded of her. We will wonder where this recipe came from, how it is different from other chocolate chip cake recipes, and where she learned to make it. In fact, the recipe already varies considerably between homes. My Oma makes hers in a round pan, my mother in a loaf pan, and I in cupcake moulds. Each person has a different reason for her choice of presentation that is intrinsic to her reality and communicates a specific part of her identity. Thus by sharing this recipe with my daughter, I am not only ensuring that my memories are being passed on but I am also programming into her characteristics and values such as critical thinking, the worthiness of homemade food, and the importance of family time. Karena does not yet have her own cookbook but her preferences mean that some of the recipes in my collection are made more often than others. My cookbook continues to change and grow as I am currently prioritising foods I know my kids will eat. I am also shopping and surfing for children’s recipe books and websites in order to find kid-friendly meals we can make together. In her analysis of children and adolescent cookbooks published between the 1910s and 1950s, Sherrie Inness demonstrates that cookbooks have not only taught children how to cook, but also how to act. Through the titles and instructions (generally aimed at girls), the recipe choices (fluffy deserts for girls and meat dishes for boys), and the illustrations (of girls cooking and boys eating), these cookbooks have been a medium through which society has taught its youth about their future, gendered roles. Much research by critics such as Laura Shapiro, Sonia Cancian, and Inness, to name but a few, has documented this gendered division of labour in the home. However, the literature does not always reflect reality. As this next example demonstrates, men do cook and they also influence family cookbook creation. A while back, my husband spent quite a bit of time browsing through the World Wide Web to find a good recipe for a venison marinade. As an avid “barbecuer,” he has tried and tested a number of marinades and rubs over the years. Thus he knew what he was looking for in a good recipe. He found one, made it, and it was a hit! Just recently, he tried to find that recipe again. Rather than this being a simple process, after all he knew exactly which recipe he was looking for, it took quite a bit of searching before he found it. This time, he was sure to write it down to avoid having to repeat the frustrating experience. Ironically, when I went to put the written recipe into my personal cookbook, I found that he had, in fact, already copied it out. These two handwritten copies of the same recipe are but one place where my husband “speaks out” from, and claims a place within, what I had always considered “my” cookbook. His taste preferences and preferred cooking style is very different from my own—I would never have considered a venison marinade worth finding never mind copying out. By reading his and my recipes together, one can see an alternative to assumed gender roles in our kitchen. This cookbook proves a practice opposite from the conclusion that women cook to serve men which Inness and others have theorised from the cookbooks they have analysed and forces food and gender critics to reconsider stereotypical dichotomies. Another important example is a recipe that has not actually been written down and inserted into my cookbook but it is one my husband and I both take turns making. Years ago, we had found an excellent bacon-cheese dip online that we never managed to find again. Since then, we have been forced to adlib the recipe and it has, in my opinion, never been as good. Both these Internet-recipe examples illustrate the negative drawbacks to using the Internet to find, and store, recipes. Unfortunately, the Internet is not a book. It changes. Links are sometimes broken. Searches do not always yield the same results. Even with recipe-storing sites such as Allrecipes.com and Cooks.com, one must take the time to impute the information and there is no guarantee that the technology will work. While authors such as Anderson and Wagner bemoan that traditional cookbooks only give one version of most recipes, there are so many recipes online that it is sometimes overwhelming and difficult to make a choice. An amateur cook may find comfort in the illustrations and specific instruction, yet one still needs to either have an instinct for what makes a good recipe or needs to be willing to spend time trying them out. Of course the same can be said of regular cookbooks. Having printed texts in one’s home requires the patience to go through them and still requires a sense of suitability and manageability. In both cases, neither an abundance nor a lack of choice can guarantee results. It is true that both the Internet and printed cookbooks such as The Better Homes and Gardens provide numerous, step-by-step instructions and illustrations to help people learn to make food from scratch. Other encyclopedic volumes such as The Five Roses: A Guide to Good Cooking, like YouTube, videos break recipes down into simple steps and include visual tools to help a nervous cook. Yet there is a big difference between the theory and the practice. What in theory may appear simple still necessitates practice. A botched recipe can be the result of using different brands of ingredients, tools, or environmental conditions. Only practice can teach people how to make a recipe successfully. Furthermore, it is difficult to create an online cookbook that rivals the malleability of the personal cookbooks. It is true that recipe websites such as Cooks.com and Allrecipes.com do allow a person to store favourite recipes found on their websites. However, unless the submitter takes the time to personalise the content, recipes can lose their ties to their origins. Bookmaking sites such as Blurb.com are attractive options that do allow for personalisation. In her essay “Aunty Sylvie’s Sponge Foodmaking, Cookbooks and Nostalgia,” Sian Supski uses her aunt’s Blurb family cookbook to argue that the marvel of the Internet has ensured that important family food memories will be preserved; yet once printed, even these treasures risk becoming static documents. As Supski goes on to admit, she is a nervous cook and one can conclude that even this though this recipe collection is very special, it will never become personal because she will not add to it or modify the content. As the examples in Theophano's and Tye’s works demonstrate, the personal touches, the added comments, and the handwritten alterations on the actual recipes give people authority, autonomy, and independence. Hardcopies of recipes indicate through their tattered, dog-eared, and stained pages which recipes have been tried and have been considered to be worth keeping. While Internet sites frequently allow people to comment on recipes and so allow cooks to filter their options, commenting is not a requirement and the suggestions left by others do not necessarily reflect personal preferences. Although they do continue a social, recipe-networking trend that Theophano argues has always existed in relation to cookbook creation and personal foodways, once online, their anonymity and lack of personal connection strips them of their true potential. This is also true of printed cookbooks. Even those compiled by celebrity chefs such as Rachel Ray and Jamie Oliver cannot guarantee success as individuals still need to try them. These examples of recipe reading and recipe collecting advance Heldke’s argument that theory and practice blend in this activity. Recipes are not static. They change depending on who makes them, where they come from, and on the conditions under which they are executed. As critics, we need to recognise this blending of theory and practice and read recipe collections with this reality in mind. Conclusion Despite the growing number of blogs and recipe websites now available to the average cook, personal cookbooks are still a more useful and telling way to communicate information about ourselves and our foodways. As this reflection on actual experiences clearly demonstrates, personal cookbooks teach us about more than just food. They allow us to connect to the past in order to better understand who we are today in ways that the Internet and modern technology cannot. Just as cooking combines theory and practice, reading personal and family cookbooks allows critics to see how theories about foodmaking and gender play out in actual kitchens by actual people. The nuanced merging of voices within them illustrates that individuals alter over time as they come into contact with others. While printed cookbooks and online recipe sites do provide their own narrative possibilities, the stories that can be read in personal and family cookbooks prove that reading them is a thoughtful practice worthy of academic attention. References All Recipes.com Canada. 2013. 24 Apr. 2013. ‹http://allrecipes.com›. Anderson, L. V. “Cookbooks Are Headed for Extinction—and That’s OK.” Slate.com 18 Jun. 2012. 24 Apr. 2013 ‹http://www.slate.com/articles/technology/future_tense/2012/06/the_future_of_cookbooks_they_ll_go_extinct_and_that_s_ok_.html›. Blurb.ca. 2013. 27 May 2013. ‹http://blurb.ca›. Cancian, Sonia. "'Tutti a Tavola!' Feeding the Family in Two Generations of Italian Immigrant Households in Montreal." Edible Histories, Cultural Politics: Towards a Canadian Food History. Ed. Franca Iacovetta, Valerie J. Korinek, Marlene Epp. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 2012. 209–21. Cooks.com Recipe Search. 2013. 24 Apr. 2013. ‹http://www.cooks.com›. Darling, Jennifer Dorland. Ed. The Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook. Des Moines: Meredith, 1996. Five Roses: A Guide to Good Cooking. North Vancouver: Whitecap, 2003. Floyd, Janet, and Laurel Forster. The Recipe Reader. Ed. Janet Floyd and Laurel Forster. Lincoln: U of Nebraska P, 2010. Heldke, Lisa."Foodmaking as a Thoughtful Practice." Cooking, Eating, Thinking: Transformative Philosophies of Food. Ed Deane W. Curtin and Lisa M. Heldke. Indiana UP, 1992. 203–29. ---. “Recipe for Theory Making.” Hypatia 3.2 (1988): 15–29. Inness, Sherrie. Dinner Roles: American Women and Culinary Culture. U of Iowa P, 2001. Leonardi, Susan. “Recipes for Reading: Pasta Salad, Lobster à la Riseholme, Key Lime Pie,” PMLA 104.3 (1989): 340–47. Marquis, Marie. "The Cookbooks Quebecers Prefer: More Than Just Recipes." What's to Eat? Entrées in Canadian Food History. Ed. Nathalie Cooke. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s UP, 2009. 213–27. Shapiro, Laura. Something from the Oven: Reinventing Dinner in 1950s America. New York: Viking, 2004. Theophano, Janet. Eat My Words: Reading Women's Lives through the Cookbooks They Wrote. Palgrave MacMillan: New York, 2002. Tye, Diane. Baking As Biography. Canada: McGill-Queen UP, 2010. Wagner, Vivian. “Cookbooks of the Future: Bye, Bye, Index Cards.” E-Commerce Times. Ecommercetimes.com. 20 Nov. 2011. 16 April 2013. ‹http://www.ecommercetimes.com/story/73842.html›.

'Let me give you an analogy; analogies, it is true, decide nothing, but they can make one feel more at home.' -- Sigmund Freud, New Introductory Lectures 72 (1933) This paper emerged from a larger study of Freud's view of culture, which used elements of Freud's own way of proceeding to mount a critique of the elaboration of that view. It is proposed here that the use of analogy is foundational to Freud's procedure in building his model of the mind, rather than just a temporary means to an end, and, crucially, that Freud is himself unaware of both the necessity of the analogical move and also of his desire for it. The creation of the concept of the Freudian psyche is a rhetorical tour de force, a structure made of figures of speech, the chief among which is the analogy. Freud constructs an analogy between culture and mind: what is left of his theory of both if this rhetorical connexion is removed? In the opening pages of one of his last works Freud considers the problem of the interpretation of culture, and he concludes that there too it is a question of getting the patient on the couch: '... one is justified [he writes] in attempting to discover a psychoanalytic -- that is, a genetic explanation ...' -- in that psychoanalysis is a method of explaining the origins of present condition of such things as states of mind, to which culture more generally is analogous (Civilization 65). Understanding may be an end in itself, but there may be a more practical purpose in bringing psychoanalysis to bear: a culture may become sick, neurotic, and psychoanalysis may be able to play a part in understanding the nature of the problem, if not also in treating it. Civilization and Its Discontents concludes with the idea that 'we may expect that one day someone will venture to embark upon a pathology of cultural communities' (144). What Freud has to say about culture can be read, I propose, on a number of levels. The smallest elements which begin to reveal meaning -- which are capable of being differentiated in a meaningful way, and therefore analysed as texts -- are parapraxes and the minute revelations of the psychoanalytic techniques of free association and dream analysis. A second level of text is that produced by a unitary, identified 'author', such as Wilhelm Jensen's Gradiva, or Leonardo da Vinci's Virgin with St Anne. An epoch, such as Freud's Civilization (and its Discontents), and then his view of a species (as in Totem and Taboo), each with its own teleology, form texts of a higher order. My engagement with Freud here is with his method of argument by analogy. On some occasions he makes explicit the extent to which he is dependent on (flexible!) analogies of the description of his method -- as when he writes this in The Question of Lay Analysis: 'In psychology we can only describe things by the help of analogies. There is nothing peculiar in this, it is the case elsewhere as well. But we have constantly to keep changing these analogies, for none of them lasts us long enough. (195) In a key moment in The Psychopathology of Everyday Life, he again explicitly uses analogy instead of argument, writing: 'Instead of a discussion, however, I shall bring forward an analogy to deal with the objection' (21). This is a point at which he is dealing with the reason for the forgetting of names, and although he is not yet prepared to indicate what is in his view the precise reason for this (namely: repression), he wishes to persuade his reader to stay with him; and so he inserts a narrative about what we would now call a mugging, an event with just the right combination of violence and yet familiarity to allow readers to accept that such things happen but that the agents are usually unknown. That he is confident of the efficacy of this procedure is indicated by that fact that he uses the same analogy again in the Lecture 3 of the Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis (40-59). Although Freud uses analogy -- as a comparison between two separate and distinct and different things -- what he is most interested in is primary process. This is a mode of thinking which may be capable of an awareness of the differences between things, but is more interested in their confluences (overdetermination and condensation), and their similarities and ability to replace each other (displacement). I suggest that analogy is actually primary process subjected to 'secondary revision', and that Freud is himself unaware of the source of his recurrent need to use analogy. Consider also the 'Slovakia' example in Lecture 23 of the New Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis, in which Freud is extrapolating his division of the mind into the three parts: super-ego, ego and id, the 'three realms, regions, provinces, into which we divide an individual's mental apparatus...' He introduces this in a characteristically persuasive way: 'Let me give you an analogy; analogies, it is true, decide nothing, but they can make one feel more at home' (New Introductory Lectures 72). He then proceeds to a brief description of some of the characteristics of (what is now) Slovakia, in which German, Magyars and Slovaks live, in which there are three kinds of topography and also three groups of industry. He constructs the image partly to demonstrate the complexity of the interrelationships of the parts of the mental apparatus (and partly to have a shot at the powers that at Versailles divided up parts of Europe), and to show that the assignment of distinct names to them tends to obscure the way in which they in fact overlap and interact. However, what the analogy powerfully imports is the 'naturalness', indeed the inevitability, of the division into three. Despite the argument actually being that this division is in fact not clear-cut, it nevertheless implies the necessity of the division. So that his audience is all the more ready the accept the tripartite model of the mind. We could analyse this analogy between the two 'geographies' somewhat in the way that Freud would examine the account of a dream. Firstly, there are the day's residues: in this case his experiences in growing up in this part of Europe together with his reflections on the politics of defining a nation. Then we see the conflation of the two different realms of human experience, political geography and metapsychology; and the displacement of the one set of structures for the other. There is also the overdetermination of the tripartite structures: German, Magyars, Slovaks; hills, plains, lakes; cattle, cereals, fish; superego, ego, id. Finally an instance of secondary revision can be clearly seen in the conclusion of Freud's demonstration. If the partitioning could be neat and clear-cut like this, a Woodrow Wilson would be delighted by it; it would also be convenient for a lecture in a geography lesson. The probability is, however, that you will find less orderliness and more missing, if you travel through the region. ... A few things are naturally as you expected, for fish cannot be caught in the mountains and wine does not grow in the water. Indeed, the picture of the region that you brought with you may on the whole fit the facts; but you will have to put up with deviations in the details. (New Introductory Lectures 73) The implication for my analogy (with dream-analysis) is clearly that there will be a slippage between the different meanings of the images as the process of overdetermination tries to get each to do different work at the same time, and certain elements will have to be refined or retuned, whether in the service of more or less precise relation. A final point might be made, while still on the topic of Slovakia. Freud is, as we have seen, critical to some extent of the political-geographical situation that he receives and describes in his image. The reference to the American president suggests that there might have been a better way to carry out the partition, and certainly events in the region in our own very recent past suggest that this is so. Freud, however, is ultimately accepting of many of the aspects of the picture. He takes the different kinds of primary industry as givens: agriculture, viticulture, and the human culture implied in the national names. The fact that an outsider like Wilson might get it wrong only makes clearer the implication that received political geography is meaningful and in some senses right. This is an example of a cultural unconscious about which Freud does not speak because he cannot. It is not that his assumption about this matter, that which is taken-for-granted, is unthinkable: it is unsayable, something which is outside consciousness because it is so taken-for-granted. This kind of unconscious, which I am calling a kind of cultural unconscious for want of a better term -- and perhaps a notion of the 'non-conscious' might be more accurate -- simply cannot be accommodated by consciousness. Here Freud was appealing to geography to make his point. He far more often appeals to the authority of literature. To give a crude example, it is well known that it was the essay on nature -- thought at one time to be by Goethe -- which is supposed to have been the spur that pricked the side of Freud's intent and actually drove him into what was to become psychoanalysis. So literature not only has an inspirational effect for him, but is also evidence of the interpenetration of Freud's mind -- his way of thinking by analogy and citation -- and the culture of which he is the recipient, and in which he is caught up. If analogy is essential to Freud's theory, rather than just part of its explication (and space has permitted mention of only a few instances) -- if analogy functions as the clasps that hold together the new clothes of the Emperor of Psychoanalysis - what happens when the clasps are removed? References References to the works of Freud in English refer by volume to the Standard Edition (SE): Freud, Sigmund. The Standard Edition of the the Complete Psychological Works. 24 vols. London: The Hogarth Press and the Institute of Psychoanalysis, 1953-74. Freud, Sigmund. Civilization and its Discontents. SE 21. (1930.) 59-145. ---. "Delusions and Dreams in Jensen's 'Gradiva'." SE 9. (1907 [1906].) 1-95. ---. Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis. SE 15-6. (1916-17.) ---. "Leonardo da Vinci and a Memory of his Childhood." SE 11. (1910.) 59-137. ---. Postscript. SE 20. (1927.) 251-8. ---. New Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis. SE 22. (1933.) ---. The Origins of Psychoanalysis. Trans. Eric Mosbacher & James Strachey. Ed. Marie Bonaparte, Anna Freud and Ernst Kris. London: Imago; New York: Basic Books, 1950. (1887-1902.) Partly including "A Project for a Scientific Psychology" (1895), in SE 1. Freud, Sigmund. The Psychopathology of Everyday Life. SE 6. (1901.) ---. "The Question of Lay Analysis." SE 20. (1926.) 177-250. ---. Totem and Taboo. SE 13. (1912-13.) 1-161. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Garry Gillard. "Mind and Culture: Freud and Slovakia." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3.2 (2000). [your date of access] <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0005/freud.php>. Chicago style: Garry Gillard, "Mind and Culture: Freud and Slovakia," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3, no. 2 (2000), <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0005/freud.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Garry Gillard. (2000) Mind and culture: Freud and Slovakia. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3(2). <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0005/freud.php> ([your date of access]).

In March 2002, I was visiting the University of Southern California. One night, as sometimes happens on a vibrant campus, two interesting but very different public lectures were scheduled against one another. The first was by the co-chairman and co-founder of Adobe Systems Inc., Dr. John E. Warnock, talking about books. The second was a lecture by acclaimed video artist Bill Viola. The first event was clearly designed as a networking forum for faculty and entrepreneurs. The general student population was conspicuously absent. Warnock spoke of the future of Adobe, shared stories of his love of books, and in an embodiment of the democratising potential of Adobe software (and no doubt to the horror of archivists in the room) he invited the audience to handle extremely rare copies of early printed works from his personal library. In the lecture theatre where Viola was to speak the atmosphere was different. Students were everywhere; even at the price of ten dollars a head. Viola spoke of time and memory in the information age, of consciousness and existence, to an enraptured audience—and showed his latest work. The juxtaposition of these two events says something about our cultural moment, caught between a paradigm modelled on reverence toward the page, and a still emergent sense of medium, intensity and experimentation. But, the juxtaposition yields more. At one point in Warnock’s speech, in a demonstration of the ultra-high resolution possible in the next generation of Adobe products, he presented a scan of a manuscript, two pages, two columns per page, overflowing with detail. Fig. 1. Dr John E. Warnock at the Annenberg Symposium. Photo courtesy of http://www.annenberg.edu/symposia/annenberg/2002/photos.php Later, in Viola’s presentation, a fragment of a video work, Silent Mountain (2001) splits the screen in two columns, matching Warnock’s text: inside each a human figure struggles with intense emotion, and the challenges of bridging the relational gap. Fig. 2. Images from Bill Viola, Silent Mountain (2001). From Bill Viola, THE PASSIONS. The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles in Association with The National Gallery, London. Ed. John Walsh. p. 44. Both events are, of course, lectures. And although they are different in style and content, a ‘columnular’ scheme informs and underpins both, as a way of presenting and illustrating the lecture. Here, it is worth thinking about Pierre de la Ramée or Petrus (Peter) Ramus (1515-1572), the 16th century educational reformer who in the words of Frances Yates ‘abolished memory as a part of rhetoric’ (229). Ramus was famous for transforming rhetoric through the introduction of his method or dialectic. For Walter J. Ong, whose discussion of Ramism we are indebted to here, Ramus produced the paradigm of the textbook genre. But it is his method that is more noteworthy for us here, organised through definitions and divisions, the distribution of parts, ‘presented in dichotomized outlines or charts that showed exactly how the material was organised spatially in itself and in the mind’ (Ong, Orality 134-135). Fig. 3. Ramus inspired study of Medicine. Ong, Ramus 301. Ong discusses Ramus in more detail in his book Ramus: Method, and the Decay of Dialogue. Elsewhere, Sutton, Benjamin, and I have tried to capture the sense of Ong’s argument, which goes something like the following. In Ramus, Ong traces the origins of our modern, diagrammatic understanding of argument and structure to the 16th century, and especially the work of Ramus. Ong’s interest in Ramus is not as a great philosopher, nor a great scholar—indeed Ong sees Ramus’s work as a triumph of mediocrity of sorts. Rather, his was a ‘reformation’ in method and pedagogy. The Ramist dialectic ‘represented a drive toward thinking not only of the universe but of thought itself in terms of spatial models apprehended by sight’ (Ong, Ramus 9). The world becomes thought of ‘as an assemblage of the sort of things which vision apprehends—objects or surfaces’. Ramus’s teachings and doctrines regarding ‘discoursing’ are distinctive for the way they draw on geometrical figures, diagrams or lecture outlines, and the organization of categories through dichotomies. This sets learning up on a visual paradigm of ‘study’ (Ong, Orality 8-9). Ramus introduces a new organization for discourse. Prior to Ramus, the rhetorical tradition maintained and privileged an auditory understanding of the production of content in speech. Central to this practice was deployment of the ‘seats’, ‘images’ and ‘common places’ (loci communes), stock arguments and structures that had accumulated through centuries of use (Ong, Orality 111). These common places were supported by a complex art of memory: techniques that nourished the practice of rhetoric. By contrast, Ramism sought to map the flow and structure of arguments in tables and diagrams. Localised memory, based on dividing and composing, became crucial (Yates 230). For Ramus, content was structured in a set of visible or sight-oriented relations on the page. Ramism transformed the conditions of visualisation. In our present age, where ‘content’ is supposedly ‘king’, an archaeology of content bears thinking about. In it, Ramism would have a prominent place. With Ramus, content could be mapped within a diagrammatic page-based understanding of meaning. A container understanding of content arises. ‘In the post-Gutenberg age where Ramism flourished, the term “content”, as applied to what is “in” literary productions, acquires a status which it had never known before’ (Ong, Ramus 313). ‘In lieu of merely telling the truth, books would now in common estimation “contain” the truth, like boxes’ (313). For Ramus, ‘analysis opened ideas like boxes’ (315). The Ramist move was, as Ong points out, about privileging the visual over the audible. Alongside the rise of the printing press and page-based approaches to the word, the Ramist revolution sought to re-work rhetoric according to a new scheme. Although spatial metaphors had always had a ‘place’ in the arts of memory—other systems were, however, phonetically based—the notion of place changed. Specific figures such as ‘scheme’, ‘plan’, and ‘table’, rose to prominence in the now-textualised imagination. ‘Structure’ became an abstract diagram on the page disconnected from the total performance of the rhetor. This brings us to another key aspect of the Ramist reformation: that alongside a spatialised organisation of thought Ramus re-works style as presentation and embellishment (Brummett 449). A kind of separation of conception and execution is introduced in relation to performance. In Ramus’ separation of reason and rhetoric, arrangement and memory are distinct from style and delivery (Brummett 464). While both dialectic and rhetoric are re-worked by Ramus in light of divisions and definitions (see Ong, Ramus Chs. XI-XII), and dialectic remains a ‘rhetorical instrument’ (Ramus 290), rhetoric becomes a unique site for simplification in the name of classroom practicality. Dialectic circumscribes the space of learning of rhetoric; invention and arrangement (positioning) occur in advance (289). Ong’s work on the technologisation of the word is strongly focused on identifying the impact of literacy on consciousness. What Ong’s work on Ramus shows is that alongside the so-called printing revolution the Ramist reformation enacts an equally if not more powerful transformation of pedagogic space. Any serious consideration of print must not only look at the technologisation of the word, and the shifting patterns of literacy produced alongside it, but also a particular tying together of pedagogy and method that Ong traces back to Ramus. If, as is canvassed in the call for papers of this issue of M/C Journal, ‘the transitions in print culture are uneven and incomplete at this point’, then could it be in part due to the way Ramism endures and is extended in electronic and hypermedia contexts? Powerpoint presentations, outlining tools (Heim 139-141), and the scourge of bullet points, are the most obvious evidence of greater institutionalization of Ramist knowledge architecture. Communication, and the teaching of communication, is now embedded in a Ramist logic of opening up content like a box. Theories of communication draw on so-called ‘models’ that draw on the representation of the communication process through boxes that divide and define. Perhaps in a less obvious way, ‘spatialized processes of thought and communication’ (Ong, Ramus 314) are essential to the logic of flowcharting and tracking new information structures, and even teaching hypertext (see the diagram in Nielsen 7): a link puts the popular notion that hypertext is close to the way we truly think into an interesting perspective. The notion that we are embedded in print culture is not in itself new, even if the forms of our continual reintegration into print culture can be surprising. In the experience of printing, of the act of pressing the ‘Print’ button, we find ourselves re-integrated into page space. A mini-preview of the page re-assures me of an actuality behind the actualizations on the screen, of ink on paper. As I write in my word processing software, the removal of writing from the ‘element of inscription’ (Heim 136) —the frictionless ‘immediacy’ of the flow of text (152) — is conditioned by a representation called the ‘Page Layout’, the dark borders around the page signalling a kind of structures abyss, a no-go zone, a place, beyond ‘Normal’, from which where there is no ‘Return’. At the same time, however, never before has the technological manipulation of the document been so complex, a part of a docuverse that exists in three dimensions. It is a world that is increasingly virtualised by photocopiers that ‘scan to file’ or ‘scan to email’ rather than good old ‘xeroxing’ style copying. Printing gives way to scanning. In a perverse extension of printing (but also residually film and photography), some video software has a function called ‘Print to Video’. That these super-functions of scanning to file or email are disabled on my department photocopier says something about budgets, but also the comfort with which academics inhabit Ramist space. As I stand here printing my lecture plan, the printer stands defiantly separate from the photocopier, resisting its colonizing convergence even though it is dwarfed in size. Meanwhile, the printer demurely dispenses pages, one at a time, face down, in a gesture of discretion or perhaps embarrassment. For in the focus on the pristine page there is a Puritanism surrounding printing: a morality of blemishes, smudges, and stains; of structure, format and order; and a failure to match that immaculate, perfect argument or totality. (Ong suggests that ‘the term “method” was appropriated from the Ramist coffers and used to form the term “methodists” to designate first enthusiastic preachers who made an issue of their adherence to “logic”’ (Ramus 304).) But perhaps this avoidance of multi-functionality is less of a Ludditism than an understanding that the technological assemblage of printing today exists peripherally to the ideality of the Ramist scheme. A change in technological means does not necessarily challenge the visile language that informs our very understanding of our respective ‘fields’, or the ideals of competency embodied in academic performance and expression, or the notions of content we adopt. This is why I would argue some consideration of Ramism and print culture is crucial. Any ‘true’ breaking out of print involves, as I suggest, a challenge to some fundamental principles of pedagogy and method, and the link between the two. And of course, the very prospect of breaking out of print raises the issue of its desirability at a time when these forms of academic performance are culturally valued. On the surface, academic culture has been a strange inheritor of the Ramist legacy, radically furthering its ambitions, but also it would seem strongly tempering it with an investment in orality, and other ideas of performance, that resist submission to the Ramist ideal. Ong is pessimistic here, however. Ramism was after all born as a pedagogic movement, central to the purveying ‘knowledge as a commodity’ (Ong, Ramus 306). Academic discourse remains an odd mixture of ‘dialogue in the give-and-take Socratic form’ and the scheduled lecture (151). The scholastic dispute is at best a ‘manifestation of concern with real dialogue’ (154). As Ong notes, the ideals of dialogue have been difficult to sustain, and the dominant practice leans towards ‘the visile pole with its typical ideals of “clarity”, “precision”, “distinctness”, and “explanation” itself—all best conceivable in terms of some analogy with vision and a spatial field’ (151). Assessing the importance and after-effects of the Ramist reformation today is difficult. Ong describes it an ‘elusive study’ (Ramus 296). Perhaps Viola’s video, with its figures struggling in a column-like organization of space, structured in a kind of dichotomy, can be read as a glimpse of our existence in or under a Ramist scheme (interestingly, from memory, these figures emote in silence, deprived of auditory expression). My own view is that while it is possible to explore learning environments in a range of ways, and thus move beyond the enclosed mode of study of Ramism, Ramism nevertheless comprises an important default architecture of pedagogy that also informs some higher level assumptions about assessment and knowledge of the field. Software training, based on a process of working through or mimicking a linked series of screenshots and commands is a direct inheritor of what Ong calls Ramism’s ‘corpuscular epistemology’, a ‘one to one correspondence between concept, word and referent’ (Ong, Orality 168). My lecture plan, providing an at a glance view of my presentation, is another. The default architecture of the Ramist scheme impacts on our organisation of knowledge, and the place of performance with in it. Perhaps this is another area where Ong’s fascinating account of secondary orality—that orality that comes into being with television and radio—becomes important (Orality 136). Not only does secondary orality enable group-mindedness and communal exchange, it also provides a way to resist the closure of print and the Ramist scheme, adapting knowledge to new environments and story frameworks. Ong’s work in Orality and Literacy could thus usefully be taken up to discuss Ramism. But this raises another issue, which has to do with the relationship between Ong’s two books. In Orality and Literacy, Ong is careful to trace distinctions between oral, chirographic, manuscript, and print culture. In Ramus this progression is not as prominent— partly because Ong is tracking Ramus’ numerous influences in detail —and we find a more clear-cut distinction between the visile and audile worlds. Yates seems to support this observation, suggesting contra Ong that it is not the connection between Ramus and print that is important, but between Ramus and manuscript culture (230). The interconnections but also lack of fit between the two books suggests a range of fascinating questions about the impact of Ramism across different media/technological contexts, beyond print, but also the status of visualisation in both rhetorical and print cultures. References Brummett, Barry. Reading Rhetorical Theory. Fort Worth: Harcourt, 2000. Heim, Michael. Electric Language: A Philosophical Study of Word Processing. New Haven: Yale UP, 1987. Maras, Steven, David Sutton, and with Marion Benjamin. “Multimedia Communication: An Interdisciplinary Approach.” Information Technology, Education and Society 2.1 (2001): 25-49. Nielsen, Jakob. Multimedia and Hypertext: The Internet and Beyond. Boston: AP Professional, 1995. Ong, Walter J. Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word. London: Methuen, 1982. —. Ramus: Method, and the Decay of Dialogue. New York: Octagon, 1974. The Second Annual Walter H. Annenberg Symposium. 20 March 2002. http://www.annenberg.edu/symposia/annenberg/2002/photos.php> USC Annenberg Center of Communication and USC Annenberg School for Communication. 22 March 2005. Viola, Bill. Bill Viola: The Passions. Ed. John Walsh. London: The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles in Association with The National Gallery, 2003. Yates, Frances A. The Art of Memory. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1969. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Maras, Steven. "Reflections on Adobe Corporation, Bill Viola, and Peter Ramus while Printing Lecture Notes." M/C Journal 8.2 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0506/05-maras.php>. APA Style Maras, S. (Jun. 2005) "Reflections on Adobe Corporation, Bill Viola, and Peter Ramus while Printing Lecture Notes," M/C Journal, 8(2). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0506/05-maras.php>.

Introduction Cookbooks are an exceptional written record of what is largely an oral tradition. They have been described as “magician’s hats” due to their ability to reveal much more than they seem to contain (Wheaton, “Finding”). The first book printed in Germany was the Guttenberg Bible in 1456 but, by 1490, printing was introduced into almost every European country (Tierney). The spread of literacy between 1500 and 1800, and the rise in silent reading, helped to create a new private sphere into which the individual could retreat, seeking refuge from the community (Chartier). This new technology had its effects in the world of cookery as in so many spheres of culture (Mennell, All Manners). Trubek notes that cookbooks are the texts most often used by culinary historians, since they usually contain all the requisite materials for analysing a cuisine: ingredients, method, technique, and presentation. Printed cookbooks, beginning in the early modern period, provide culinary historians with sources of evidence of the culinary past. Historians have argued that social differences can be expressed by the way and type of food we consume. Cookbooks are now widely accepted as valid socio-cultural and historic documents (Folch, Sherman), and indeed the link between literacy levels and the protestant tradition has been expressed through the study of Danish cookbooks (Gold). From Apicius, Taillevent, La Varenne, and Menon to Bradley, Smith, Raffald, Acton, and Beeton, how can both manuscript and printed cookbooks be analysed as historic documents? What is the difference between a manuscript and a printed cookbook? Barbara Ketchum Wheaton, who has been studying cookbooks for over half a century and is honorary curator of the culinary collection in Harvard’s Schlesinger Library, has developed a methodology to read historic cookbooks using a structured approach. For a number of years she has been giving seminars to scholars from multidisciplinary fields on how to read historic cookbooks. This paper draws on the author’s experiences attending Wheaton’s seminar in Harvard, and on supervising the use of this methodology at both Masters and Doctoral level (Cashman; Mac Con Iomaire, and Cashman). Manuscripts versus Printed Cookbooks A fundamental difference exists between manuscript and printed cookbooks in their relationship with the public and private domain. Manuscript cookbooks are by their very essence intimate, relatively unedited and written with an eye to private circulation. Culinary manuscripts follow the diurnal and annual tasks of the household. They contain recipes for cures and restoratives, recipes for cleansing products for the house and the body, as well as the expected recipes for cooking and preserving all manners of food. Whether manuscript or printed cookbook, the recipes contained within often act as a reminder of how laborious the production of food could be in the pre-industrialised world (White). Printed cookbooks draw oxygen from the very fact of being public. They assume a “literate population with sufficient discretionary income to invest in texts that commodify knowledge” (Folch). This process of commoditisation brings knowledge from the private to the public sphere. There exists a subset of cookbooks that straddle this divide, for example, Mrs. Rundell’s A New System of Domestic Cookery (1806), which brought to the public domain her distillation of a lifetime of domestic experience. Originally intended for her daughters alone, Rundell’s book was reprinted regularly during the nineteenth century with the last edition printed in 1893, when Mrs. Beeton had been enormously popular for over thirty years (Mac Con Iomaire, and Cashman). Barbara Ketchum Wheaton’s Structured Approach Cookbooks can be rewarding, surprising and illuminating when read carefully with due effort in understanding them as cultural artefacts. However, Wheaton notes that: “One may read a single old cookbook and find it immensely entertaining. One may read two and begin to find intriguing similarities and differences. When the third cookbook is read, one’s mind begins to blur, and one begins to sense the need for some sort of method in approaching these documents” (“Finding”). Following decades of studying cookbooks from both sides of the Atlantic and writing a seminal text on the French at table from 1300-1789 (Wheaton, Savouring the Past), this combined experience negotiating cookbooks as historical documents was codified, and a structured approach gradually articulated and shared within a week long seminar format. In studying any cookbook, regardless of era or country of origin, the text is broken down into five different groupings, to wit: ingredients; equipment or facilities; the meal; the book as a whole; and, finally, the worldview. A particular strength of Wheaton’s seminars is the multidisciplinary nature of the approaches of students who attend, which throws the study of cookbooks open to wide ranging techniques. Students with a purely scientific training unearth interesting patterns by developing databases of the frequency of ingredients or techniques, and cross referencing them with other books from similar or different timelines or geographical regions. Patterns are displayed in graphs or charts. Linguists offer their own unique lens to study cookbooks, whereas anthropologists and historians ask what these objects can tell us about how our ancestors lived and drew meaning from life. This process is continuously refined, and each grouping is discussed below. Ingredients The geographic origins of the ingredients are of interest, as is the seasonality and the cost of the foodstuffs within the scope of each cookbook, as well as the sensory quality both separately and combined within different recipes. In the medieval period, the use of spices and large joints of butchers meat and game were symbols of wealth and status. However, when the discovery of sea routes to the New World and to the Far East made spices more available and affordable to the middle classes, the upper classes spurned them. Evidence from culinary manuscripts in Georgian Ireland, for example, suggests that galangal was more easily available in Dublin during the eighteenth century than in the mid-twentieth century. A new aesthetic, articulated by La Varenne in his Le Cuisinier Francois (1651), heralded that food should taste of itself, and so exotic ingredients such as cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger were replaced by the local bouquet garni, and stocks and sauces became the foundations of French haute cuisine (Mac Con Iomaire). Some combinations of flavours and ingredients were based on humoral physiology, a long held belief system based on the writings of Hippocrates and Galen, now discredited by modern scientific understanding. The four humors are blood, yellow bile, black bile, and phlegm. It was believed that each of these humors would wax and wane in the body, depending on diet and activity. Galen (131-201 AD) believed that warm food produced yellow bile and that cold food produced phlegm. It is difficult to fathom some combinations of ingredients or the manner of service without comprehending the contemporary context within they were consumeSome ingredients found in Roman cookbooks, such as “garum” or “silphium” are no longer available. It is suggested that the nearest substitute for garum also known as “liquamen”—a fermented fish sauce—would be Naam Plaa, or Thai fish sauce (Grainger). Ingredients such as tea and white bread, moved from the prerogative of the wealthy over time to become the staple of the urban poor. These ingredients, therefore, symbolise radically differing contexts during the seventeenth century than in the early twentieth century. Indeed, there are other ingredients such as hominy (dried maize kernel treated with alkali) or grahams (crackers made from graham flour) found in American cookbooks that require translation to the unacquainted non-American reader. There has been a growing number of food encyclopaedias published in recent years that assist scholars in identifying such commodities (Smith, Katz, Davidson). The Cook’s Workplace, Techniques, and Equipment It is important to be aware of the type of kitchen equipment used, the management of heat and cold within the kitchen, and also the gradual spread of the industrial revolution into the domestic sphere. Visits to historic castles such as Hampton Court Palace where nowadays archaeologists re-enact life below stairs in Tudor times give a glimpse as to how difficult and labour intensive food production was. Meat was spit-roasted in front of huge fires by spit boys. Forcemeats and purees were manually pulped using mortar and pestles. Various technological developments including spit-dogs, and mechanised pulleys, replaced the spit boys, the most up to date being the mechanised rotisserie. The technological advancements of two hundred years can be seen in the Royal Pavilion in Brighton where Marie-Antoinin Carême worked for the Prince Regent in 1816 (Brighton Pavilion), but despite the gleaming copper pans and high ceilings for ventilation, the work was still back breaking. Carême died aged forty-nine, “burnt out by the flame of his genius and the fumes of his ovens” (Ackerman 90). Mennell points out that his fame outlived him, resting on his books: Le Pâtissier Royal Parisien (1815); Le Pâtissier Pittoresque (1815); Le Maître d’Hôtel Français (1822); Le Cuisinier Parisien (1828); and, finally, L’Art de la Cuisine Française au Dix-Neuvième Siècle (1833–5), which was finished posthumously by his student Pluméry (All Manners). Mennell suggests that these books embody the first paradigm of professional French cuisine (in Kuhn’s terminology), pointing out that “no previous work had so comprehensively codified the field nor established its dominance as a point of reference for the whole profession in the way that Carême did” (All Manners 149). The most dramatic technological changes came after the industrial revolution. Although there were built up ovens available in bakeries and in large Norman households, the period of general acceptance of new cooking equipment that enclosed fire (such as the Aga stove) is from c.1860 to 1910, with gas ovens following in c.1910 to the 1920s) and Electricity from c.1930. New food processing techniques dates are as follows: canning (1860s), cooling and freezing (1880s), freeze drying (1950s), and motorised delivery vans with cooking (1920s–1950s) (den Hartog). It must also be noted that the supply of fresh food, and fish particularly, radically improved following the birth, and expansion of, the railways. To understand the context of the cookbook, one needs to be aware of the limits of the technology available to the users of those cookbooks. For many lower to middle class families during the twentieth century, the first cookbook they would possess came with their gas or electrical oven. Meals One can follow cooked dishes from the kitchen to the eating place, observing food presentation, carving, sequencing, and serving of the meal and table etiquette. Meal times and structure changed over time. During the Middle Ages, people usually ate two meals a day: a substantial dinner around noon and a light supper in the evening (Adamson). Some of the most important factors to consider are the manner in which meals were served: either à la française or à la russe. One of the main changes that occurred during the nineteenth century was the slow but gradual transfer from service à la française to service à la russe. From medieval times to the middle of the nineteenth century the structure of a formal meal was not by “courses”—as the term is now understood—but by “services”. Each service could comprise of a choice of dishes—both sweet and savoury—from which each guest could select what appealed to him or her most (Davidson). The philosophy behind this form of service was the forementioned humoral physiology— where each diner chose food based on the four humours of blood, yellow bile, black bile, or phlegm. Also known as le grand couvert, the à la française method made it impossible for the diners to eat anything that was beyond arm’s length (Blake, and Crewe). Smooth service, however, was the key to an effective à la russe dinner since servants controlled the flow of food (Eatwell). The taste and temperature of food took centre stage with the à la russe dinner as each course came in sequence. Many historic cookbooks offer table plans illustrating the suggested arrangement of dishes on a table for the à la française style of service. Many of these dishes might be re-used in later meals, and some dishes such as hashes and rissoles often utilised left over components of previous meals. There is a whole genre of cookbooks informing the middle class cooks how to be frugal and also how to emulate haute cuisine using cheaper or ersatz ingredients. The number dining and the manner in which they dined also changed dramatically over time. From medieval to Tudor times, there might be hundreds dining in large banqueting halls. By the Elizabethan age, a small intimate room where master and family dined alone replaced the old dining hall where master, servants, guests, and travellers had previously dined together (Spencer). Dining tables remained portable until the 1780s when tables with removable leaves were devised. By this time, the bread trencher had been replaced by one made of wood, or plate of pewter or precious metal in wealthier houses. Hosts began providing knives and spoons for their guests by the seventeenth century, with forks also appearing but not fully accepted until the eighteenth century (Mason). These silver utensils were usually marked with the owner’s initials to prevent their theft (Flandrin). Cookbooks as Objects and the World of Publishing A thorough examination of the manuscript or printed cookbook can reveal their physical qualities, including indications of post-publication history, the recipes and other matter in them, as well as the language, organization, and other individual qualities. What can the quality of the paper tell us about the book? Is there a frontispiece? Is the book dedicated to an employer or a patron? Does the author note previous employment history in the introduction? In his Court Cookery, Robert Smith, for example, not only mentions a number of his previous employers, but also outlines that he was eight years working with Patrick Lamb in the Court of King William, before revealing that several dishes published in Lamb’s Royal Cookery (1710) “were never made or practis’d (sic) by him and others are extreme defective and imperfect and made up of dishes unknown to him; and several of them more calculated at the purses than the Gôut of the guests”. Both Lamb and Smith worked for the English monarchy, nobility, and gentry, but produced French cuisine. Not all Britons were enamoured with France, however, with, for example Hannah Glasse asserting “if gentlemen will have French cooks, they must pay for French tricks” (4), and “So much is the blind folly of this age, that they would rather be imposed on by a French Booby, than give encouragement to an good English cook” (ctd. in Trubek 60). Spencer contextualises Glasse’s culinary Francophobia, explaining that whilst she was writing the book, the Jacobite army were only a few days march from London, threatening to cut short the Hanoverian lineage. However, Lehmann points out that whilst Glasse was overtly hostile to French cuisine, she simultaneously plagiarised its receipts. Based on this trickling down of French influences, Mennell argues that “there is really no such thing as a pure-bred English cookery book” (All Manners 98), but that within the assimilation and simplification, a recognisable English style was discernable. Mennell also asserts that Glasse and her fellow women writers had an enormous role in the social history of cooking despite their lack of technical originality (“Plagiarism”). It is also important to consider the place of cookbooks within the history of publishing. Albala provides an overview of the immense outpouring of dietary literature from the printing presses from the 1470s. He divides the Renaissance into three periods: Period I Courtly Dietaries (1470–1530)—targeted at the courtiers with advice to those attending banquets with many courses and lots of wine; Period II The Galenic Revival (1530–1570)—with a deeper appreciation, and sometimes adulation, of Galen, and when scholarship took centre stage over practical use. Finally Period III The Breakdown of Orthodoxy (1570–1650)—when, due to the ambiguities and disagreements within and between authoritative texts, authors were freer to pick the ideas that best suited their own. Nutrition guides were consistent bestsellers, and ranged from small handbooks written in the vernacular for lay audiences, to massive Latin tomes intended for practicing physicians. Albala adds that “anyone with an interest in food appears to have felt qualified to pen his own nutritional guide” (1). Would we have heard about Mrs. Beeton if her husband had not been a publisher? How could a twenty-five year old amass such a wealth of experience in household management? What role has plagiarism played in the history of cookbooks? It is interesting to note that a well worn copy of her book (Beeton) was found in the studio of Francis Bacon and it is suggested that he drew inspiration for a number of his paintings from the colour plates of animal carcasses and butcher’s meat (Dawson). Analysing the post-publication usage of cookbooks is valuable to see the most popular recipes, the annotations left by the owner(s) or user(s), and also if any letters, handwritten recipes, or newspaper clippings are stored within the leaves of the cookbook. The Reader, the Cook, the Eater The physical and inner lives and needs and skills of the individuals who used cookbooks and who ate their meals merit consideration. Books by their nature imply literacy. Who is the book’s audience? Is it the cook or is it the lady of the house who will dictate instructions to the cook? Numeracy and measurement is also important. Where clocks or pocket watches were not widely available, authors such as seventeenth century recipe writer Sir Kenelm Digby would time his cooking by the recitation of the Lord’s Prayer. Literacy amongst protestant women to enable them to read the Bible, also enabled them to read cookbooks (Gold). How did the reader or eater’s religion affect the food practices? Were there fast days? Were there substitute foods for fast days? What about special occasions? Do historic cookbooks only tell us about the food of the middle and upper classes? It is widely accepted today that certain cookbook authors appeal to confident cooks, while others appeal to competent cooks, and others still to more cautious cooks (Bilton). This has always been the case, as has the differentiation between the cookbook aimed at the professional cook rather than the amateur. Historically, male cookbook authors such as Patrick Lamb (1650–1709) and Robert Smith targeted the professional cook market and the nobility and gentry, whereas female authors such as Eliza Acton (1799–1859) and Isabella Beeton (1836–1865) often targeted the middle class market that aspired to emulate their superiors’ fashions in food and dining. How about Tavern or Restaurant cooks? When did they start to put pen to paper, and did what they wrote reflect the food they produced in public eateries? Conclusions This paper has offered an overview of Barbara Ketchum Wheaton’s methodology for reading historic cookbooks using a structured approach. It has highlighted some of the questions scholars and researchers might ask when faced with an old cookbook, regardless of era or geographical location. By systematically examining the book under the headings of ingredients; the cook’s workplace, techniques and equipment; the meals; cookbooks as objects and the world of publishing; and reader, cook and eater, the scholar can perform magic and extract much more from the cookbook than seems to be there on first appearance. References Ackerman, Roy. The Chef's Apprentice. London: Headline, 1988. Adamson, Melitta Weiss. Food in Medieval Times. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood P, 2004. Albala, Ken. Eating Right in the Renaissance. Ed. Darra Goldstein. Berkeley: U of California P, 2002. Beeton, Isabella. Beeton's Book of Household Management. London: S. Beeton, 1861. Bilton, Samantha. “The Influence of Cookbooks on Domestic Cooks, 1900-2010.” Petit Propos Culinaires 94 (2011): 30–7. Blake, Anthony, and Quentin Crewe. Great Chefs of France. London: Mitchell Beazley/ Artists House, 1978. Brighton Pavilion. 12 Jun. 2013 ‹http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/interactive/2011/sep/09/brighton-pavilion-360-interactive-panoramic›. Cashman, Dorothy. “An Exploratory Study of Irish Cookbooks.” Unpublished Master's Thesis. M.Sc. Dublin: Dublin Institute of Technology, 2009. Chartier, Roger. “The Practical Impact of Writing.” Trans. Arthur Goldhammer. A History of Private Lives: Volume III: Passions of the Renaissance. Ed. Roger Chartier. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Belknap P of Harvard U, 1989. 111-59. Davidson, Alan. The Oxford Companion to Food. New York: Oxford U P, 1999. Dawson, Barbara. “Francis Bacon and the Art of Food.” The Irish Times 6 April 2013. den Hartog, Adel P. “Technological Innovations and Eating out as a Mass Phenomenon in Europe: A Preamble.” Eating out in Europe: Picnics, Gourmet Dining and Snacks since the Late Eighteenth Century. Eds. Mark Jacobs and Peter Scholliers. Oxford: Berg, 2003. 263–80. Eatwell, Ann. “Á La Française to À La Russe, 1680-1930.” Elegant Eating: Four Hundred Years of Dining in Style. Eds. Philippa Glanville and Hilary Young. London: V&A, 2002. 48–52. Flandrin, Jean-Louis. “Distinction through Taste.” Trans. Arthur Goldhammer. A History of Private Lives: Volume III : Passions of the Renaissance. Ed. Roger Chartier. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Belknap P of Harvard U, 1989. 265–307. Folch, Christine. “Fine Dining: Race in Pre-revolution Cuban Cookbooks.” Latin American Research Review 43.2 (2008): 205–23. Glasse, Hannah. The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy; Which Far Exceeds Anything of the Kind Ever Published. 4th Ed. London: The Author, 1745. Gold, Carol. Danish Cookbooks: Domesticity and National Identity, 1616-1901. Seattle: U of Washington P, 2007. Grainger, Sally. Cooking Apicius: Roman Recipes for Today. Totnes, Devon: Prospect, 2006. Hampton Court Palace. “The Tudor Kitchens.” 12 Jun 2013 ‹http://www.hrp.org.uk/HamptonCourtPalace/stories/thetudorkitchens› Katz, Solomon H. Ed. Encyclopedia of Food and Culture (3 Vols). New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 2003. Kuhn, T. S. The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1962. Lamb, Patrick. Royal Cookery:Or. The Complete Court-Cook. London: Abel Roper, 1710. Lehmann, Gilly. “English Cookery Books in the 18th Century.” The Oxford Companion to Food. Ed. Alan Davidson. Oxford: Oxford U P, 1999. 277–9. Mac Con Iomaire, Máirtín. “The Changing Geography and Fortunes of Dublin’s Haute Cuisine Restaurants 1958–2008.” Food, Culture & Society 14.4 (2011): 525–45. Mac Con Iomaire, Máirtín, and Dorothy Cashman. “Irish Culinary Manuscripts and Printed Cookbooks: A Discussion.” Petit Propos Culinaires 94 (2011): 81–101. Mason, Laura. Food Culture in Great Britain. Ed. Ken Albala. Westport CT.: Greenwood P, 2004. Mennell, Stephen. All Manners of Food. 2nd ed. Chicago: U of Illinois P, 1996. ---. “Plagiarism and Originality: Diffusionism in the Study of the History of Cookery.” Petits Propos Culinaires 68 (2001): 29–38. Sherman, Sandra. “‘The Whole Art and Mystery of Cooking’: What Cookbooks Taught Readers in the Eighteenth Century.” Eighteenth Century Life 28.1 (2004): 115–35. Smith, Andrew F. Ed. The Oxford Companion to American Food and Drink. New York: Oxford U P, 2007. Spencer, Colin. British Food: An Extraordinary Thousand Years of History. London: Grub Street, 2004. Tierney, Mark. Europe and the World 1300-1763. Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1970. Trubek, Amy B. Haute Cuisine: How the French Invented the Culinary Profession. Philadelphia: U of Pennsylvania P, 2000. Wheaton, Barbara. “Finding Real Life in Cookbooks: The Adventures of a Culinary Historian”. 2006. Humanities Research Group Working Paper. 9 Sep. 2009 ‹http://www.phaenex.uwindsor.ca/ojs/leddy/index.php/HRG/article/view/22/27›. Wheaton, Barbara Ketcham. Savouring the Past: The French Kitchen and Table from 1300-1789. London: Chatto & Windus, 1983. White, Eileen, ed. The English Cookery Book: Historical Essays. Proceedings of the 16th Leeds Symposium on Food History 2001. Devon: Prospect, 2001.

IntroductionInteractive improvisational musical spaces (which is to say, nearly all musical spaces) involve affective relations among bodies: between the bodies of human performers, between performers and active listeners, between the sonic "bodies" that comprise the multiple overlapping events that constitute a musical performance’s unfolding. Music scholarship tends to focus on either music’s sonic materialities (the sensible; what can be heard) or the cultural resonances that locate in and through music (the political or hermeneutic; how meaning is inscribed in and for a listening subject).An embodied turn, however, has recently been manifesting, bringing music scholarship into communication with feminist theory, queer theory, and approaches that foreground subjectivity and embodiment. Exemplary in this area are works by Naomi Cumming (who asks a critical question, “does the self form the sound, or the sound the self?;” Cumming 7), Suzanne Cusick, Marion Guck, Fred Maus, and Susan McClary. All of these scholars, in various ways, thematise the performative—what it feels like to make or experience music, and what effect that making or experiencing has on subject-formation.All of these authors strive to foreground the role of the performer and performativity in the context of the extended Western art music tradition. While each makes persuasive, significant points, my contention in this paper is that improvised music is a more fruitful starting place for thinking about embodiment and the co-constitutive relationship between performer and sound. That is, while (nearly) all music is improvised to a greater or lesser degree, the more radical contexts, in which paths are being selected and large-scale shapes drawn in the “heat of the moment,” can bring these issues into stark relief and serve as more productive entry points for thinking through crucial questions of embodiment, perspective, identity, and emergent meaning.Music-Improvisational ContextsA musical improvisational space is a “context,” in Lawrence Grossberg’s sense of the term (26), where acts of territorialisation unfold an ongoing process of meaning-constitution. Territorialisation refers to an always-ongoing process of mapping out a space within which subjects and objects are constituted (Deleuze and Guattari 314). I posit that musical acts of territorialising are performed by two kinds of bodies in mutually constitutive relationships: interacting corporeal performing bodies, with individual pasts, tendencies, wills, and affective attunements (Massumi, Semblance), and what I term musical-objects-as-bodies. This second category represents a way of considering music’s sonic materiality from an affective perspective—relational, internally differentiating, temporal. On the one hand musical-objects-as-bodies refer to the materiality of the now-ongoing music itself: from the speeds and slownesses of air molecules that are received by the ear and interpreted as sound in the brain, to notes and rhythms and musical gestures; to the various ways in which abstract forms are actively shaped by performers and interpreted by listeners, with their own individuated constellations of histories, tendencies, wants, attunements, and corporeal perspectives. On the other hand, musical-objects-as-bodies can refer to the histories, genres, dislocations, and nomadic movements that partially condition how sonic materialities are produced and perceived. These last two concepts should be read both in terms of how histories and genres become dislocated from themselves through the actions of practitioners, and as a priori principles—that is, not as aberrations that disrupt a norm, but as norms themselves.This involves two levels of abstraction: ascribing body-status to sound-complexes, and then doing the same for historical trajectories, cultural conditionings, and dislocations. Elizabeth Grosz asks us to theorise the body as “the threshold or borderline concept that hovers perilously and undecidably at the pivotal joint of binary pairs” (Grosz, Volatile 23); one such binary that is problematised is that of production and perception, which within the context of an improvising music ensemble are really two perspectives on the same phenomenon. The producers are also the perceivers, in other words. This is true of listeners too: acts of perception are themselves productive in the sense that they create contexts in which meanings emerge.In Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari’s language (46–54), an emerging context represents a plurality of milieux that are brought together in acts of territorialisation (and deterritorialisation; see below). The term “milieu” refers to the notion that acts of territorialisation always take place in the middle—they are always already bound up in ongoing processes of context-building. Nothing ever emerges from whole cloth; everything modifies by differential degree the contexts upon which it draws. In musical contexts, we might consider four types of milieux. External milieux are articulated by such factors as syntactic norms (what makes a piece of music sound like it belongs within a genre) and cultural conditionings. Internal milieux refer to what gives the elements of a piece of music a sense of belonging together, including formal designs, motivic structures, and melodic or harmonic singularities. An intermediary milieu involves the way gestures acquire sign-status in a context, thereby becoming meaningful. Annexed milieux are locations where new materials are absorbed and incorporated from without.Bodies ImprovisingA small example should put these points into focus. Four jazz musicians are on stage, performing a version of the well-known (in that community) song “Stella by Starlight.” External milieux here include the conventions of the genre: syntactic expectations, prescribed roles for different instruments, certain perspectives on historical performance practices. Internal milieux include the defining features of this song: its melody, harmonic progression, formal design. The performers’ affective attunements to the history of the song’s complex life so far form an intermediary milieu; note that that history is in a process of modification by the very act of the now-ongoing performance. Annexed milieux might include flights into the unexpected, fracturings of stylistic norms, or incorporations of other contexts into this one. The act of territorialisation is how these (and more) milieux are drawn together as forces in this performance, this time. Each performer is an agent, articulating sounds that represent the now-emerging object, this “Stella by Starlight.” Those articulated sounds, as musical-objects-as-bodies, conjoin with each other, and with performers, in ongoing processes of subject-formation.A double movement is at play in this characterisation. The first is strategic: thinking of musical forces as bodies in order to consider how relationships unfold between them in embodied terms—in terms of affect. But simultaneous with this is a reverse move that begins with affective forces and from there constructs those very bodies—human performing bodies as well as musical-objects-as-bodies. In other words, in order to draw lines between bodies that suggest contextual co-determinations where each exists in a continual process of engendering the other, we can turn to a consideration of the encounters between, and impingements of, affective forces through which bodies are constructed and actions are mobilised. This double movement is a paradox that requires three presuppositions. First, that bodies are indeed constituted through encounters of affective forces—this is Deleuze’s Spinozist claim (Deleuze, Spinoza 49–50). Second, that identity is performative within the context of a discourse. This is Judith Butler’s position, which I modify slightly to consider the potential of non- (or pre-) linguistic discourse, such as what can stem from drastic (active, experiential) music-syntactic spaces (Abbate). And third, that concepts like agency and passivity involve force-relations between human actors (with embodied perspectives, agencies, histories, tendencies, and diverse ranges of affective attunements), and the musical utterances expressed by and between them. Therefore, there is value in considering both actor and utterance as unfolding along the same plane, each participating in the other’s constitution.What is at stake when we conceive of sonic materiality in bodily terms in this way? The sounds produced in interactive music-improvisational settings are products of human agency. But there is a passive element to human musical-sound production. There is a degree of passivity that owes to learned behaviors, habits, and the singularities of one’s own history—this is the passive nature of Deleuze’s first synthesis of time (Deleuze, Difference 71–79), where past experiences and activities are drawn into a now-present action, partially conditioning it. Even overtly active selection in the living present is founded on this passivity, since one can only draw upon one’s own history and experience, which provides a limiting force on technique, which in turn directs expressive possibilities. In music-improvisation pedagogy, this might be phrased as “you can only play what you can hear.” Another way to say this is that passive synthesis conditions active selection.One way to overcome the foreclosure of possibility that necessarily falls out of passive synthesis is through interaction and engagement with the affective forces at play in interactive encounters. Through encounters, conditions for new possibilities emerge. The limiting concept “you can only play what you hear” is mitigated by an encounter with newly received stimuli: a heard gesture that invites further excavation of a motivic idea or that sparks a “line of flight” into a thus-far unthought-of next action. The way a newly received stimulus inspires new action is an affective encounter, and it re-conditions—it deterritorialises—the ongoing process of subject-formation. The encounter is a direct line drawn between the two types of bodies—that is, between the situated body of a producing and perceiving subject and the sonic materiality of a musical-object-as-body. While there are other kinds of encounters that unfold in the course of interactive musical performance (visual cues, for example, or tactile nearnesses), the events of heard sounds are the primary locations where bodies are constituted or subjects are formed. This is made transparent in a recent study by Schober and Spiro, where jazz musicians improvised together with no visual or tactile connection, relying solely on sound for their points of interactive contact. This suggested that jazz musicians are able to communicate effectively with only sonic data exchanged. That many improvisers play with their eyes closed, or with their backs to one another, only reinforces this.There are three aspects of sound that I wish to offer as support for a reading of musical objects as bodies. First is that sounds are temporally articulated and perceived. The materiality of sound is bound up with its temporality in ways that are more directly perceivable than many other worldly materialities. The obviousness of its temporally bound nature is one reason that music is used so often as an entry point for thinking through the ontological nature of time and process; viz. Husserl’s utilisation of musical melodies to explicate his phenomenology of internal time-consciousness, and Deleuze and Guattari’s location of acts of territorialisation in the (musical) refrain. Of course the distinction between sonic and other materialities is only a matter of degree: all matter, including bodies, is “continually subjected to transformation, to becoming, to unfolding over time” (Grosz, Time 79), but music foregrounds temporality in ways that many philosophers have found vivid and constructive.Second, musical sounds acquire meaning through their relationships with other sounds in contexts, both in the immediate context of the now-ongoing performance and in extended contexts of genre, syntax, and so on. Those relationships are with histories of past sounds, now-ongoing sounds, and future sounds expressed as results of accumulations of meaning-complexes. A gesture is played, and it acquires meaning through the ways it is “picked up” by differently attuned performers and listeners.In this sense, third, the line is blurred between action and agent; the distinction between the gesture and the execution of the gesture is effectively erased. From the performer’s perspective, how a gesture is “picked up” is made somewhat evident by the sonic materiality of the next gesture. This next gesture is a sign that represents the singularity of the performer’s affective attunement, or an expression of a stage (or, better, some now-ongoing aspect) of what Whitehead would call her “eventful” subjectivity (166–167). What is expressed is the way the performer is (actively or passively) attuning to the constellations of meanings that resonate in the event of the encounter with the musical-object-as-body, as that musical-object-as-body in turn expresses the history of past encounters that (actively or passively) engendered it. The present action as most-contracted expression of the past is Deleuze’s second synthesis of time, while the eventful way an action cuts into the future marks the time of his third synthesis (Deleuze, Difference 80–91).What is at stake in a turn to corporeality in music analysis? Nietzsche admonishes us to turn from the “facts” that the senses take in, process, and evaluate and re-begin our inquiry by questioning the body (272). This means, for music analysis, turning away from certain quantifiable aspects of sonic materiality (pitches, chords, rhythms, formal designs), towards the ways in which sounds are articulated by bodies in interactive contexts. This has been attempted from various perspectives in recent music scholarship, but again the reading of musical bodies I am pursuing foregrounds affective forces, eventful subject-formation, and performativity as identity, on the ground of improvised interaction. Improvising bodies engage in spaces where “all kinds of affects play their game” (Nietzsche 264), and they exist in constant states of change as they are impinged on by events (and as they impinge on events), those events also forming conduits to other bodies. Subjects are not just impinged on by events; they are events, processes, accumulations, and distributions of affective forces. As Grosz puts it, “the body codes the meanings projected onto it” (Volatile 18). In musical improvisation, performers are always in the process of becoming a subject, conditioned by the ways in which they are impinged upon by affective forces and the creative ways those impingements are taken up.Musical-objects-as-bodies, likewise, unfold as ongoing processes, their identity emerging through accumulations and distributions of relationships with other musical-objects-as-bodies. A musical gesture acquires meaning through the emerging context in which it participates, just as a performer acquires a sense of identity through acts of production and perception in, and that help create, a context. Moreover, an affective consideration of performer (as corporeal body) and musical gesture (as sonic utterance) involves “the torsion of one into the other, the passage, vector, or uncontrollable drift of the inside into the outside and the outside into the inside” (Grosz, Volatile xii). Grosz is describing the essential irreducibility of body and mind, but her language is compelling for thinking through the relationships between bodies and musical-objects-as-bodies as an ongoing co-constitutive, boundary-dissolving process.Bodies and/as AffectAffect begins in the in-between, in the productive space of the event in which bodies encounter one another. This is not, however, a pure in-between. Bodies are constructed by the ways in which affective forces impinge on them, but affective forces also stem from bodies. Bodies affect and are affected by one another, as Deleuze is fond of repeating (Spinoza 49). No affect, no bodies, but also no bodies, no affect. What does this mean? The in-between does not subvert corporeality, perspective, intention, or subjectivity, nor is there a hierarchical relation between them (that is, bodies do not emerge because of affective relations, nor the reverse). If we think of bodies as emergent subjectivities—as processes of subject-formation irreducibly connected to the ecological conditions in which they are acting—then the ways in which their identities come to be constructed are intricately connected to the performative utterances they are making and the variable ways they are taking up those utterances and folding them into their emergent processes of becoming. Here, the utterer–utterance distinction begins to break down. Judith Butler (24-25) argues that the ways in which bodies are defined emerge from performative acts, and that every such act constitutes a political action that contributes to the constitution of identity. As Butler writes, “that the gendered body is performative suggests that it has no ontological status apart from the various acts which constitute its reality” (136). Gender is a status that emerges through one’s actions in contexts—we perform gender, and by performing it we undergo a process of inscribing it on ourselves. This is one of many key points where music scholarship can learn from feminist theory. Like gender, musical identity is performed—we inscribe upon ourselves an emergent musical subjectivity through acts of performance and perception (which is itself a performance too, as an interaction with a musical-object-as-body).Performative acts, therefore, are not simply enacted by bodies; if identity is performed, then the acts themselves are what define the very bodies performing them. Again, the hierarchy breaks down: rather than beginning with a body (a subject) that acts, actions comprise what a body is, as an emergent subject, as the product of its actions. For Deleuze and Guattari, performed acts involve masks; masks do not disguise expression or identity but rather are expressions through which identity is drawn. “The mask does not hide the face, it is the face” (115); “the mask assures the […] construction of the face, the facialization of the head and the body: the mask is now the face itself, the abstraction or operation of the face. […] Never does the face assume a prior signifier or subject” (Deleuze and Guattari 181). In Butler’s terms, the performance does not presuppose the performer; the performer is the performance.Affect corresponds, then, not only to the pre-linguistic (Deleuze’s “dark precursor;” Difference 119–121) but also to the super-discursive: to the multiple embedded meaning-trajectories implicit in any discursive utterance; to the creative ways in which those meaning-trajectories can be taken up variably within the performance space; to the micro-political implications of both utterance and taking-up. Bergson writes: “[m]y body is […] in the aggregate of the material world […] receiving and giving back movement, with, perhaps, this difference only, that my body appears to choose, within certain limits, the manner in which it shall restore what it receives” (Bergson 4–5; also cited in Grosz, The Nick 165). This is exactly Grossberg’s “context,” by the way. The “manner in which it shall restore what it receives” refers, in the case of musically performing (corporeal) bodies, to how a gesture is taken up in a next performed action. In the case of musical-objects-as-bodies, conversely, it refers to how a next gesture contributes to the ongoing sense of meaning-accumulation in response to the ongoing flux of musical-objects-as-bodies within which it locates.In music-improvisational spaces, not only does the utterer–utterance, agent–action, or performer–­performed gesture distinction break down, but the distinction between performed and received gesture likewise blurs, in two senses: because of the nature of eventful subject-formation (whereby a musical gesture’s meaning is being drawn within its emergent context), and because the events of individual musical gestures are subsumed into larger composite events. This problematises the utterer-utterance breakdown by blurring the threshold between individual performed events, inviting a consideration of a paradoxical, but productive, excluded middle where musical-objects-as-bodies are both expressions of corporeal performative acts (engendering contextual subject-formations) and constituent elements of an emergent musical subjectivity (“the performance.” See Massumi (Parables) for more on productive engagements with the excluded middle). While beyond the scope of this paper, we might consider the radical co-constitution of different kinds of bodies in this way as a system, following Gregory Seigworth’s description: “the transitive effect undergone by a body (human or otherwise) in a system—a mobile and open system—composed of the various, innumerable forces of existing and the relations between those forces” (161).Performing Bodies and the Emergent WorkThis, ultimately, is my thesis: how to think about musical performance beginning with performing bodies rather than with a reified notion of musical materiality. Performing bodies are situated within the emerging context of improvised, interactive music-making. Musical utterances are enacted by those bodies, which are also taking up the utterances made by other bodies—as musical-objects-as-bodies. The context that is being built through this process of affective exchange is the performance (the this performance, this time of the jazz example above). Christopher Hasty writes,to perform, from per-formare is to really, actually (fully) form or shape. The ‘-ance’ of performance connotes action and process. The thing performed apart from or outside the forming is problematic. Is it a fixed, ideal form above or beyond (transcending), or beneath or behind (founding) the actual doing, a thing that can be known quite apart from the situated knowing itself? (200)The work–performance dichotomy that animates Hasty’s question (as well as those of Abbate, Goehr, and others) is not my question, since I suggest that using improvised music as an entry point into musical inquiry makes a turn to performance axiomatic. The improvised work is necessarily an active, emergent process, its particularities, boundaries, and meanings being drawn through its performed actions. Perhaps the question that underlies my query is, instead, how do we think about the processes of subject-formation that unfold through interactive music-making; how are performing and performed bodies being inscribed through what kinds of relationships with musical materialities?Is there, in the end, simply a musical body that subsumes both utterer and utterance, both subjectively-forming body and material sonic gesture? I do not wish to go quite that far, but I do wish to continue to problematise where one body stops and the next begins. To paraphrase one of themes of this special issue, where do the boundaries, thresholds, and intersections of musical bodies lie? Deleuze, following Spinoza, tells us frequently that we do not yet know what a body is capable of. This must be at least in part because we know not what a body is at any given point—the body, like the subject which we might now think of as no more than a sign, is in a process of becoming; there is no is (ontology), there is only and (conjunction). And there is no body, there are only bodies, for a body only exists in a complex and emergent ecological relationship with other bodies (see Grosz, Volatile 19). To conceive of porous thresholds between performing bodies and musical-objects-as-bodies is to foreground the performative aspects of improvised music-making and to break down the hierarchy, and possibly even the distinction, between agent, action, and the content of that action. Bodies of all types inscribe one another in ongoing acts of meaning-constitution: this is the properly drastic starting place for inquiry into the nature of musical process.ReferencesAbbate, Carolyn. “Music—Drastic or Gnostic?” Critical Inquiry 30.3 (2004): 505–536.Bergson, Henri. Matter and Memory. Trans. Nancy Margaret Paul and W. Scott Palmer. London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd., 1919.Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New York: Routledge, 1990.Cumming, Naomi. The Sonic Self: Musical Subjectivity and Signification. Bloomington, IN: Indiana UP, 2000.Cusick, Suzanne. “Feminist Theory, Music Theory, and the Mind/Body Problem.” Perspectives of New Music 32.1 (1994): 8–27.———. “On Musical Performances of Gender and Sex.” Audible Traces: Gender, Identity, and Music. Eds. Elaine Barkin and Lydia Hamessley. Zurich: Carciofolo Verlagshaus, 1999. 25–48.Deleuze, Gilles. Spinoza: Practical Philosophy. Trans. Robert Hurley. Eugene, OR: City Lights Books, 1988.———. Difference and Repetition. Trans. Paul Patton. New York: Columbia UP, 1994.Deleuze, Gilles, and Félix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Trans. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1987.Goehr, Lydia. The Quest for Voice: On Music, Politics, and the Limits of Philosophy. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1998.Grossberg, Lawrence. Cultural Studies in the Future Tense. Durham: Duke UP, 2010.Grosz, Elizabeth. Volatile Bodies: Toward a Corporeal Feminism. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1994.———. The Nick of Time: Politics, Evolution, and the Untimely. Durham: Duke UP, 2004.———. Time Travels: Feminism, Nature, Power. Durham: Duke UP, 2005.Guck, Marion. “A Woman’s (Theoretical) Work.” Perspectives of New Music 32.1 (1994): 28–43.Hasty, Christopher. “If Music Is Ongoing Experience, What Might Music Theory Be? A Suggestion from the Drastic.” Zeitschrift der Gesellschaft für Musiktheorie (Sonderausgabe 2010): 197–216.Husserl, Edmund. On the Phenomenology of the Consciousness of Internal Time. Trans. John Barnett Brough. Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1991.Massumi, Brian. Parables for the Virtual: Movement, Affect, Sensation. Durham and London: Duke UP, 2002.———. Semblance and Event: Activist Philosophy and the Occurent Arts. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2011.Maus, Fred Everett. “Musical Performance as Analytic Communication.” Performance and Authenticity in the Arts. Eds. Salim Kemal and Ivan Gaskell. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1999. 129–153.McClary, Susan. “Constructions of Subjectivity in Schubert’s Music.” Queering the Pitch: The New Gay and Lesbian Musicology. Ed. Philip Brett, Elizabeth Wood, and Gary C. Thomas. New York: Routledge, 2006. 205–234.Nietzsche, Friedrich. The Will to Power. Trans. Walter Kaufmann and Reginald John Hollingdale. New York: Vintage Books, 1967.Schober, Michael, and Neta Spiro. “Jazz Improvisers’ Shared Understanding: A Case Study.” Frontiers in Psychology 5 (2014). 10 Mar. 2016 <http://journal.frontiersin.org/article/10.3389/fpsyg.2014.00808/abstract>.Seigworth, Gregory. “From Affection to Soul.” Gilles Deleuze: Key Concepts. Ed. Charles J. Stivale. Montreal: McGill–Queens UP, 2005. 159–169.Whitehead, Alfred North. Process and Reality. New York: Free Press, 1978.

Closer examination of contemporary art forms including music videos in addition to the Gothic’s literature legacy is essential, “as it is virtually impossible to ignore the relationship the Gothic holds to popular culture” (Piatti-Farnell ii). This article critically examines how Gothic themes and modes are used in the music videos of Lana Del Rey; particularly the “ways in which Gothic is dispersed through contemporary non-literary media” (Spooner and McEvoy 2). This work follows the argument laid down by Edwards and Monnet who describe Gothic’s assimilation into popular culture —Pop Gothic— as a powerful pop cultural force, not merely a subcultural or cult expression. By interpreting Del Rey’s work as a both a component of, and a contributor to, the Pop Gothic advance, themes of social climate, consumer culture, gender identity, sexuality and the male gaze can be interrogated. Indeed the potential for a collective crisis of these issues in early 21st Century western culture is exposed, “the façade of carnivalised surfaces is revealed to hide the chaos and entropy of existential emptiness.” (Yeo 17). Gothic modes have been approximated by Pop Gothic into the mainstream (Edwards and Monnet) as a driving force behind these contradictions and destabilisations. The Gothic has become ubiquitous within popular culture and continues to exert influence. This is easily reflected in the $392 million the first Twilight movie grossed at the box office (Edwards and Monnet). Examples are abundant in pop culture across music, film and television. Edwards and Monnet cite the movies Zombieland and Blade in the Pop Gothic march, along with TV shows including Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Being Human, True Blood as well as Lady Gaga’s Fame Monster music album. Edwards and Monnet observe that the Gothic aesthetics of the 1980s and 1990s, “melancholy and imagery associated with death, dying and the undead” (3), shifted from the corners of subculture to the mainstream of millennial popular culture. With this shift comes the rebelliousness and melancholy that characterises Gothic texts. This is evident when a pop star of Lana Del Rey’s popularity —her Summertime Sadness video alone has over 160 million views on youtube.com (YouTube)— narratively represents themes of death and suicide repeatedly in her videos. In two of Lana Del Rey’s music videos —Blue Jeans and Born to Die— either she or a representation of her persona dies. In a third video, Summertime Sadness, her companion takes her own life and Lana ultimately follows suit. Themes of death and loss are just the most obvious of Gothic elements present in Del Rey’s work. Del Rey’s songs and videos speak of the American dream, of aestheticised beauty, of being immaculately presented, well dressed and having hair “beauty queen style”, as in Summertime Sadness. She depicts an excess of hedonistic consumption and love that knows no bounds, not even death. Much of the delivery has resonance with the Gothic; performatively, visually and musically, and shows a subversion and fatalism that juxtaposes, contests and contradicts pop cultural tropes (Macfarlane). This contrary nature of the Gothic, as characterised by Botting, can provoke a sense of otherness; the uncanny, including “displays of uncontrolled passion, violent emotion or flights of fancy to portrayals of perversion or obsession” (Gothic 2). It is argued that these characteristics have been commodified into merchandisable and mainstream stylistic representations (Edwards and Monnet). Del Rey’s visual work uses this otherness and representation of repressed darkness as subversion or contestation to the bubble gum consumerist, fairy tale sexualisation of the Katy Perry brand of neo-liberal pop music that floods the mainstream (Macfarlane). Del Rey also harnesses the Gothic mode in her music, underscoring social anxieties through moments of sound which act as “a sonic imp, this music enters perception through the back door, and there it does its destabilising work” (van Elferen 137). As potential psychosocial sources of this otherness in the Gothic (Botting, Gothic), Jung argued that as a collective consciousness by repressing our darkest side, we can be dislocated from it. Further he argued that many modern ills —conflict, war, disenfranchisement, poverty— stem from culturally rationalised divisions of ‘good vs evil’ (Tacey). Providing a space for these dark sides to surface, Swirski comments that cultural product can act "as a social barometer and a cultural diagnostic tool. It identifies social trends and cultural patterns and weaves elaborate counterfactuals- literary fictions- that hang human faces on large-scale human abstractions such as society and culture" (1). Jung proposes the large-scale social abstraction; that to truly live with ourselves we need embrace the otherness inside us— to learn to live with it (Tacey). The Gothic may enable this living with, rather than living without. Jung asserts that we now rely so much on what we can touch, taste and own, that western culture has become a “creed without substance” (Tacey 32). In more concrete terms, Hoffie argues that popular media today tells stories: in terms of disaster and crisis: weather patterns: disastrous. Climate Change: disastrous. Global Financial Crisis: disastrous. Political situations: disastrous. Unemployment: disastrous. And so on. The high-pitched wail of this lament corrodes the peaks and troughs of potential emotional responsiveness; the vapours of benumbing apathy steam upwards like a bewitching spell. All stands still. Action, like in a bad dream, seems impossible. (14) This apathy in the face of crisis or disaster is well expressed in Del Rey’s work through the Gothic influenced lyrics and videos; she describes her partner as so good looking as to be “sick as cancer” in Blue Jeans and that her lover left her because he was “chasing paper”. Represented here is the social current that the need to acquire goods in late capitalism’s climate “of unrestrained consumerism” (Heine and Thakur 2) is her lover’s priority over companionship. Revealing more of the Gothic aesthetic is that her videos and songs represent this loss, they depict “disturbances of sanity and security” (Botting, Gothic 2) and thematically reflect the social climate of “disaster and crisis” (Hoffie 14). This sense of otherness through Gothic influences of the uncanny, death and melancholy have a significant impact on creative expression creating music videos that play like a kind of half remembered nightmare (Botting, Love Your Zombie; Macfarlane). In the black and white video for Blue Jeans the opening shot shows an image of Del Rey rippling and blurred, framed by circular waves of water as black as oil. The powerful Gothic aesthetic of the abyss is rendered here, “to convey the figurative meaning of a catastrophic situation seen as likely to occur whereby the individual will sink to immeasurable intellectual, ethical or moral depths” (Edwards and Monnet 9). This abyss is represented as Del Rey sings to her ghostly tattooed lover that she will love him until “the end of time” and climaxes in the suggestion that he drowns her. As in Edwards and Monnet‘s description of zombie films, Del Rey’s videos narratively “suggest that the postmodern condition is itself a form of madness that disseminates cultural trauma and erases historical memory” (8). This view is evident in contrasting Del Rey’s interview comment that she finds conversations about feminism boring (Cooper). Yet in her song delivery and lyrics she retains an ironic tone regards feminine power. This combination helps “produce a darkly funny and carnivalesque representation of sex and waste under late capitalism” (Edwards and Monnet 8). Further evidence of these ironies and distorted juxtapositions of loss and possession are evident in the song Radio. The video —a bricolage of retrospective fashion imagery— and lyrics hint at the persistent desire for goods in US western culture (Heine and Thakur). Simultaneously in her song Radio, she is corruptibly engorged by consumption and being consumed (Mulvey) as she sings that life is “sweet like cinnamon, a fucking dream on Ritalin”. The video itself represents distorted dreams hyper-real on Ritalin. Del Rey’s work speaks of an excess; the overflow of sensations, sexual excess, of buying, of having, of owning, and at the same time the absence; of loss or not knowing what to have (Botting, Love Your Zombie). Exemplified by the lyrics in What Makes Us Girls, “do I know what I want?” and again in Radio “American dreams came true somehow, I swore I’d chase until I was dead”. Increasingly it is evident that Del Rey sings “as a woman who does not know what she wants” (Vigier 5). She illustrates the “endemic narcissism” (Hoffie 15) of contemporary western culture. Del Rey therefore clearly delineates much of “the loneliness, emptiness, and alienation that results from rampant consumerism and materialism under advanced capitalism” (Edwards and Monnet 8). As a theme of this representation, Del Rey implies a sense of commodified female sexual energy through the male gaze (Mulvey), along with a sense of wasted youth and opportunity in the carnivalesque National Anthem. The video, shot as if on Super 8 film, tells the story of Del Rey’s ‘character’ married to a hedonistic style of president. It is reminiscent of the JFK story including authentic and detailed presentation of costume —especially Del Rey’s Jackie Onassis fashions— the couple posing in presidential gardens with handsome mixed-race children. Lavish lifestyles are depicted whilst the characters enjoy drinking, gambling and consumerist excess, Del Rey sings "It's a love story for the new age, For the six page, We're on a quick sick rampage, Wining and dining, Drinking and driving, Excessive buying, Overdose and dyin'". In National Anthem sexual excess is one of the strongest themes communicated. Repeatedly depicted are distinct close up shots of his hand on her thigh, and vice versa. Without being sexually explicit in itself, it is an overtly sexual reference, communicating something of sexual excess because of the sheer number of times it is highlighted in close-up shots. This links to the idea of the Gothic use of jouissance, a state of: excessive energies that burst in and beyond circuits of pleasure: intensities are read in relation to a form of subjectivity that finds itself briefly and paradoxically in moments of extreme loss. (Botting, Love Your Zombie 22) Del Rey represents these moments of loss —of herself, of her man, of her power, of her identity being subsumed by his— as intense pleasure, indicated in the video through sexual referencing. Botting argues that these excesses create anxieties; that in the pursuit of postmodern excess, of ownership, of consumption: the subject internalises the inconsistencies and contradictions of capitalism, manifesting pathologies not of privation but overabundance: stress, eating disorders, self-harming, and a range of anxieties. (Love Your Zombie 22) These anxieties are further expressed in National Anthem. Del Rey sings to her lover that he cannot keep his “pants on” and she must “hold you like a python”. The python in this tale simultaneously symbolises the exotic, erotic and dangerous entrapment by her male suitor. Edwards and Monnet argue for the Gothic monster, whose sign is further referenced as Del Rey swims with crocodiles in Blue Jeans. Here the male power, patriarchy and dominance is represented as monstrous. In the video she shares the pool with her beau yet we only see Del Rey swim and writhe with the crocodiles. Analogous of her murderous lover, this adds a powerful otherness to the scene and reinforces the symbols of threatening masculinity and impeding disaster. This expression of monstrousness creates a cathartic tension as it “puts the ‘pop’ in Pop Goth: its popularity is based on the frisson of selling simultaneous aversion from and attraction to self-destruction and cultural taboo” (Edwards and Monnet 9). In a further representation of anxieties Del Rey conforms to the sexual object persona in large part through her retro pin-up iconography —meticulous attention to costume, continuous posing and pouting— and song lyrics (Buszek). As in National Anthem her lyrics talk of devotion and male strength to protect and to “keep me safe in his bell tower”. Her videos, whilst they may show some of her strength, ultimately reside in patriarchal resolution (Mulvey). She is generally confounded by the male figures in her videos appearing to be very much alone and away from them: most notably in Blue Jeans, Born to Die and Video Games. In two cases it is suggested she is murdered by the male figures of her love. Her costume and appearance —iconic 1960’s swimsuits, pantsuits and big hairstyles in National Anthem— portray something of the retro pin-up. Buszek argues that at one time “young feminists may poke fun at the pin-up, but they do so in ways that betray affinities with, even affection for, the genre itself” (3). Del Rey simultaneously adheres to and confronts these normative gender roles, as is characteristic of the Gothic mode (Botting, Gothic). These very Gothic contradictions are also evident in Del Rey’s often ironic or mocking song delivery, undermining apparent heteronormative sexual and gender positioning. In National Anthem she sings, as if parodying women who might sincerely ask, “do you think he’ll buy me lots of diamonds?”. Her conformity is however, subverted. In Del Rey’s videos, clear evidence exists in her facial expressions where she consistently portrays Gothic elements of uncertainty, sorrow, grief and a pervading sense that she does not belong in this world (Botting, Gothic). Whilst depicted as a brooding and mourning widow —simultaneously playing the mistress luxuriating on a lion skin rug— in National Anthem Del Rey sings, “money is the anthem of success” without a smile or sense of any attachment to the lyrics. In the same song she sings “God you’re so handsome” without a trace of glee, pleasure or optimism. In the video for Blue Jeans she sings, “I will love you til the end of time” staring sorrowfully into the distance or directly at the camera. This confident yet ‘dead stare’ emphasises the overall juxtaposition of the largely positive lyrical expression, with the sorrowful facial expression and low sung notes. Del Rey signifies repeatedly that something is amiss; that the American dream is over and that even with apparent success within this sphere, there exists only emptiness and isolation (Botting, Love Your Zombie). Further contradictions exist as Lana Del Rey walks this blurred line —as is the Gothic mode— between heteronormative and ambiguous gender roles (Botting, Gothic; Edwards and Monnet). Lana Del Rey oscillates between positions of strength and independence —shown in her deadpan to-camera delivery— to that of weakness and subjugation. As she plays narrator, Del Rey symbolically reclaims some power as she retells the tragic story of Born to Die from her throne. Represented here Del Rey’s persona exerts a troubled malevolence, with two tigers calmly sat by her side: her benevolent pets, or symbols of contrived excess. She simultaneously presents the angelic —resplendent in sheer white dress and garland ‘crown’ headdress of the spurned bride in the story— and the stoic as she stares down the camera. Del Rey is powerful and in many senses threatening. At one point she draws a manicured thumbnail across her neck in a cut-throat gesture; a movement echoed later by her lover. Her character ultimately walks symbolically —and latently— to her death. She neither remedies her position as subservient, subordinate female nor revisits any kind of redemption for the excessive male dominance in her videos. The “excess is countered by greater excess” (Botting Love Your Zombie 27) and leads to otherness. In this reading of Del Rey’s work, there are representations that remain explicitly Pop Gothic, eliciting sensations of paranoia and fear, overloading her videos with these signs (Yeo). These signs elicit the otherness of the Gothic mode; expressed in visual symbols of violence, passion or obsession (Botting, Gothic). In our digital visual age, subjecting an eager viewer to this excess of signs creates the conditions for over-reading of a growing gender or consumerist paranoia, enabled by the Gothic, “paranoia stems from an excessive over-reading of signs and is a product of interpretation, misinterpretation and re-interpretation based on one’s knowledge or lack of it” (Yeo 22). Del Rey stimulates these sensations of paranoia partly through interlaying intertextual references. She does this thematically —Gothic melancholy— and pop culturally channelling Marilyn Monroe and other fashion iconography, as well as through explicit textual references, as in her most recent single Ultraviolence. In Ultraviolence, Del Rey sings “He hit me and it felt like a kiss”. Effortlessly and simultaneously she celebrates and lays bare her pain; however the intertextual reference to the violent controversy of the film A Clockwork Orange serves to aestheticise the domestic violence she describes. With Del Rey it may be that as meaning is sought amongst the texts as Macfarlane wrote about Lady Gaga, Del Rey’s “truth is ultimately irrelevant in the face of its interlayed performance” (130). Del Rey’s Gothic mode of ambiguity, of transgressed boundaries and unclear lines, shows “this ambience of perpetually deferred climax is no stranger to contemporary culture” (Hoffie 15) and may go some way to expressing something of the “lived experience of her audience” (Vigier 1). Hermes argues that in post-feminist pop culture, strong independent post-feminist women can be characterised by their ability to break traditional taboos, question or hold up for interrogation norms and traditions, but that ultimately narrative arches tend to restore the patriarchal norm. Edwards and Monnet assert that the Gothic in Pop Gothic cultural representation can become “post-race, post-sexuality, post-gender” (6). In places Del Ray exhibits this postmodernism but through the use of Gothic mode goes outside political debates and blurs clear lines of feminist discourse (Botting, Love Your Zombie). Whilst a duality in the texts exists; comments on consumerism, the emptiness of capitalist society and a suicidal expression of hopelessness, are undermined as she demonstrates conformity to subservient gender roles and her ambiguously ironic need to be “young and beautiful”. To be consumed by her man thus defines her value as an object within a consumerist neo-liberal trope (Jameson). This analysis goes some way to confirming Hermes’ assertion that in this post-feminist climate there has been a “loss of a political agenda, or the foundation for a new one, where it signposts the overcoming of unproductive old distinctions between feminist and feminine” (79). Hermes further argues, with reference to television shows Ally McBeal and Sex and the City, that presentation of female characters or personas has moved forward; the man is no longer the lone guarantor of a woman’s happiness. Yet many of the tropes in Del Rey’s work are familiar; overwhelming love for her companion equal only to the emphasis on physical appearance. Del Rey breaks taboos —she is powerful, sexual and a romantic predator, without being a demon seductress— and satirises consumerist excess and gender inequality; yet she remains sexually and politically subservient to the whim and sometimes violently expressed or implied male gaze (Mulvey). Del Rey may well represent something of Vigier’s assertion that whilst society has clear direction for the ‘success’ of women, “that real liberation and genuine satisfaction elude them” (1). In closing, there is no clear answer as to whether Del Rey is a Beauty Queen or Gothic Princess; she is neither and she is both. In Vigier’s words, “self-exploitation or self-destruction cannot be the only choices open to young women today” (13). Del Rey’s work is provocative on multiple levels. It hints at the pull of rampant consumerism and the immediacy of narcissistic desires, interlinked with contradictions which indicate the potential for social crises. This is shown in Del Rey’s use of the Gothic — otherness, the monstrous, darkness and death— and its juxtaposition with heteronormative gender representations which highlights the persistent commodification of the female body, its subjugation to male power and the potential for deep anxieties in 21st-century identity. References Blue Jeans. Dir. Yoann Lemoine. Perf. Lana Del Rey. Interscope Records, 2012. Botting, Fred. Gothic. New York: Routledge, 2014. Botting, Fred. "Love Your Zombie." The Gothic in Contemporary Literature and Popular Culture. Ed. Edwards, Justin and Agnieszka Monnet. New York: Routledge, 2012. 19-36. Buszek, Maria. Pin-Up Grrrls Feminism, Sexuality and Popular Culture. London: Duke University Press, 2006. Cooper, Duncan. "Lana Del Rey Cover Interview." Fader, June 2014. Edwards, Justin, and Agnieszka Monnet. "Introduction." The Gothic in Contemporary Literature and Popular Culture. Eds. Justin Edwards and A. Monnet. New York: Routledge, 2012. 1-18. Heine, Jorge, and Ramesh Thakur. The Dark Side of Globalisation. New York: UN UP, 2011. Hermes, Joke. "The Tragic Success of Feminism." Feminism in Popular Culture. Eds. Joanne Hollows and Rachel Moseley. New York: Berg, 2006. 79-95. Hoffie, Pat. "Deadly Ennui." Artlink Magazine 32.4 (2012): 15-16. Jameson, Fredric. "Globalisation and Political Strategy." New Left Review 2.4 (2000): 49-68. Lana Del Rey. "Radio." Born To Die. Interscope Records, 2012. "Lana Del Rey - Summertime Sadness" YouTube, n.d. 12 June 2014 ‹http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nVjsGKrE6E8›. Lana Del Rey. "This Is What Makes Us Girls." Born To Die. Interscope Records, 2012. Macfarlane, K. "The Monstrous House of Gaga." The Gothic in Contemporary Literature and Popular Culture. Ed. Justin Edwards and A. Monnet. New York: Routledge, 2012. 114-134. Mestrovic, Stjepan. Postemotional Society. London: Sage, 1997. Mulvey, Laura. Visual and other Pleasures. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009. National Anthem. Dir. Anthony Mandler. Perf. Lana Del Rey. Interscope Records, 2012. Paglia, Camille. Lady Gaga and the Death of Sex. 12 Sep. 2010. 2 June 2014 ‹http://www.thesundaytimes.co.uk/sto/public/magazine/article389697.ece›. Piatti-Farnell, Lorna. "Introduction: a Place for Contemporary Gothic." Aeternum: the Journal of Contemporary Gothic Studies 1.1 (2014): i-iv. Spooner, Catherine, and Emma McEvoy. The Routledge Companion to Gothic. New York: Routledge, 2007. Summertime Sadness. Dir. Chris Sweeney. Perf. Lana Del Rey. Interscope Records, 2013. Swirski, Peter. American Utopia and Social Engineering in Literature, Social Thought, and Political History. New York: Routledge, 2011. Tacey, David. The Jung Reader. New York: Routledge, 2012. Van Elferen, Isabella. "Spectural Liturgy, Transgression, Ritual and Music in Gothic." The Gothic in Contemporary Literature and Popular Culture. Eds. Justin Edwards and A. Monnet. New York: Routledge, 2012. 135-147. Vigier, Catherine. "The Meaning of Lana Del Rey." Zeteo: The Journal of Interdisciplinary Writing Fall (2012): 1-16. Yeo, David. "Gothic Paranoia in David Fincher's Seven, The Game and Fight Club." Aeternum: The Journal Of Contemporary Gothic Studies 1.1 (2014): 16-25. Young and Beautiful. Dir. Chris Sweeney. Perf. Lana Del Rey. Interscope Records, 2013.