Littérature scientifique sur le sujet « Hill, Gary, 1950- »

-Peter Hulme, Stephen Greenblatt, New World Encounters. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993. xviii + 344 pp.-Nigel Rigby, Alan Riach ,The radical imagination: Lectures and talks by Wilson Harris. Liège: Department of English, University of Liège, xx + 126 pp., Mark Williams (eds)-Jonathan White, Rei Terada, Derek Walcott's poetry: American Mimicry. Boston: North-eastern University Press, 1992. ix + 260 pp.-Ray A. Kea, John Thornton, Africa and Africans in the making of the Atlantic world, 1400-1680. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. xxxviii + 309 pp.-B.W. Higman, Barbara L. Solow, Slavery and the rise of the Atlantic system. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991. viii + 355 pp.-Sidney W. Mintz, Michael Mullin, Africa in America: Slave acculturation and resistance in the American South and the British Caribbean, 1736-1831. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. 412 pp.-Karen Fog Olwig, Corinna Raddatz, Afrika in Amerika. Hamburg: Hamburgisches Museum für Völkerkunde, 1992. 264 pp.-Lee Haring, William Bascom, African folktales in the new world. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992. xxv + 243 pp.-Frank Jan van Dijk, Dale A. Bisnauth, History of religions in the Caribbean. Kingston: Kingston Publishers, 1989. 225 pp.-Gloria Wekker, Philomena Essed, Everyday racism: Reports from women of two cultures. Alameda CA: Hunter House, 1990. xiii + 288 pp.''Understanding everyday racism: An interdisciplinary theory. Newbury Park CA: Sage, 1991. x + 322 pp.-Deborah S. Rubin, Vron Ware, Beyond the Pale: White women, racism, and history. London: Verso, 1992. xviii + 263 pp.-Michael Hanchard, Peter Wade, Blackness and race mixture: The dynamics of racial identity in Colombia. Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1993. xv + 415 pp.-Rosalie Schwartz, Louis A. Pérez, Jr., Slaves, sugar, & colonial society: Travel accounts of Cuba, 1801-1899. Wilmington DE: SR Books, 1992. xxvi + 259 pp.-Susan Eckstein, Sandor Halebsky ,Cuba in transition: Crisis and transformation. With Carolee Bengelsdorf, Richard L. Harris, Jean Stubbs & Andrew Zimbalist. Boulder CO: Westview, 1992. xi + 244 pp., John M. Kirk (eds)-Michiel Baud, Andrés L. Mateo, Mito y cultura en la era de Trujillo. Santo Domingo: Librería La Trinitario/Instituto del Libro, 1993. 224 pp.-Edgardo Meléndez, Andrés Serbin, Medio ambiente, seguridad y cooperacíon regional en el Caribe. Caracas: Editorial Nueva Sociedad, 1992. 147 pp.-Dean W. Collinwood, Michael Craton ,Islanders in the stream: A history of the Bahamian people. Volume One: From Aboriginal times to the end of slavery. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1992. xxxiii + 455 pp., Gail Saunders (eds)-Gary Brana-Shute, Alan A. Block, Masters of paradise: Organized crime and the internal revenue service in the Bahamas. New Brunswick NJ: Transaction Publishers, 1991. vii + 319 pp.-Michaeline Crichlow, Patrick Bryan, The Jamaican people 1880-1902. London: Macmillan Caribbean, 1991. xiv + 300 pp.-Faye V Harrison, Lisa Douglass, The power of sentiment: Love, hierarchy, and the Jamaican family elite. Boulder CO: Westview, 1992. xviii + 298 pp.-Frank Jan van Dijk, Bob Marley, Songs of freedom: From 'Judge Not' to 'Redemption Song.' Kingston: Tuff Gong/Bob Marley Foundation / London : Island Records, 1992 (limited edition). 63 pp. + 4 compact discs.-Riva Berleant-Schiller, Veront M. Satchell, From plots to plantations: Land transactions in Jamaica, 1866-1900. Mona: University of the West Indies, 1990. xiii + 197 pp.-Hymie Rubenstein, Christine Barrow, Family, land and development in St. Lucia. Cave Hill, Barbados: Institute for social and economic studies (ISER), University of the West Indies, 1992. xii + 83 pp.-Bonham C. Richardson, Selwyn Ryan, Social and occupational stratification in contemporary Trinidad and Tobago. St. Augustine, Trinidad: ISER, 1991. xiv + 474 pp.-Bill Maurer, Roland Littlewood, Pathology and identity: The work of Mother Earth in Trinidad. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993. xxii + 322 pp.-Robert Fatton, Jr., Brian Weinstein ,Haiti: The failure of politics. New York: Praeger, 1992. ix + 203 pp., Aaron Segal (eds)-Uli Locher, Michel S. Laguerre, The military and society in Haiti. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1993. x + 223 pp.-Paul E. Brodwin, Leslie G. Desmangles, The faces of the Gods: Vodou and Roman Catholicism in Haiti. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1992. xiii + 218 pp.-Marian Goslinga, Enid Brown, Bibliographical guide to Caribbean mass communication. John A. Lent (comp.). Westport CT: Greenwood Press, 1992. xi + 301 pp.''Suriname and the Netherlands Antilles: An annotated English-language bibliography. Metuchen NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1992. xi + 276 pp.-Jay B. Haviser, F.R. Effert, J.P.B. de Josselin de Jong, curator and archaeologist: A study of his early career (1910-1935). Leiden: Centre of Non-Western studies, University of Leiden, 1992. v + 119 pp.-Hans van Amersfoort, Anil Ramdas, De papegaai, de stier en de klimmende bougainvillea. Essays. Amsterdam: De Bezige Bij, 1992.-Ineke van Wetering, Deonarayan, Curse of the Devtas. Paramaribo: J.J. Buitenweg, 1992. v + 103 pp.-Ineke van Wetering, G. Mungra, Hindoestaanse gezinnen in Nederland. Leiden: Centrum voor Onderzoek Maatschappelijke Tegenstellingen, Rijksuniversiteit Leiden, 1990. 313 pp.-J.M.R. Schrils, Alex Reinders, Politieke geschiedenis van de Nederlandse Antillen en Aruba 1950-1993. Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 1993. 430 pp.-Gert Oostindie, G.J. Cijntje ,Stemmen OK, maar op wie? Delft: Eburon, 1991. 150 pp., A. Nicatia, F. Quirindongo (eds)-Genevieve Escure, Donald Winford, Predication in Caribbean English Creoles. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 1993, viii + 419 pp.-Jean D'Costa, Lise Winer, Trinidad and Tobago. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 1993. xi + 369 pp. (plus cassette)

The paper appreciates coal mining laws and policies applied by National Green Tribunal to ban traditional, artisanal and rat-hole coal mining in Jaintia Hills of Meghalaya (a state in India) in an attempt to conserve its environment and biodiversity. Meghalaya represents an important part of the Indo-Burma biodiversity hotspot which is one of the four bio-diversity hotspots of India and ranks 34th among the hotspots in the world. It is equally bestowed with rich deposits of coal, which can be found in the Khasi Hills, Garo Hills and Jaintia Hills districts. Coal mining from these districts is labour-intensive and involves digging narrow rat-hole sized tunnels that are four-feet high. The workers enter into the rat-hole in an extremely hazardous manner, setting aside the ergonomic principles for the extraction of coal. The legal framework of coal mining is governed by Mines Act, 1952, Mines and Minerals (Development and Regulation) Act, 1957, Mineral Concession Rules, 1960, Coal Mines (Nationalization) Act, 1973, Mineral Conservation and Development Rules, 1988 and Mines and Minerals (Development and Regulation) Amendment Act, 2015. However, these laws are not applied to Meghalaya because of its constitutional status enshrined in Sixth Schedule and Article 244 of the Constitution of India, 1950. Coal mining has brought employment opportunities, tribal sustenance and economic development that led to environmental degradation, disruption of ecosystems and biological diversity. The hazardous pursuits have been bereft of safety and ergonomic principle besides being oblivious of SDF of mining laws and policies in India.

-Sandra L. Richards, Judy S.J. Stone, Theatre. London: Macmillan Caribbean, 1994. xii + 268 pp.-Lowell Fiet, Errol Hill, The Jamaican stage, 1655-1900: profile of a colonial theatre. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1992. xiv + 346 pp.-Supriya Nair, Bruce King, V.S. Naipaul. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1993. viii + 170 pp.-Agnes Lugo-Ortiz, Donald E. Rice, The rhetorical uses of the authorizing figure: Fidel Castro and José Martí. Westport CT: Praeger, 1992. xviii + 163 pp.-Graciella Cruz-Taura, Juan A. Martínez, Cuban art and national identity: The Vanguardia painters, 1927-1950. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1994. xiv + 189 pp.-Graciella Cruz-Taura, Luis Camnitzer, New art of Cuba. Austin; University of Texas Press, 1994. xxx + 400 pp.-Gary Brana-Shute, Richard Price ,On the mall: Presenting Maroon tradition-bearers at the 1992 festival of American folklife. Bloomington: Folklore Institute, Indiana University, 1994. xi + 123 pp., Sally Price (eds)-Erika Bourguignon, Stephan Palmié, Das Exil der Götter: Geschichte und Vorstellungswelt einer afrokubanischen Religion. Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1991. vii + 520 pp.-Carla Freeman, Daniel Miller, Modernity, an ethnographic approach: Dualism and mass consumption in Trinidad. Oxford: Berg Publishers, 1994. 340 pp.-Daniel A. Segal, Kelvin Singh, Race and class: Struggles in a colonial state: Trinidad 1917-1945. Kingston; The Press - University of the West Indies, 1994. xxii + 284 pp.-Evelyne Huber, Patsy Lewis, Jamaica: Preparing for the twenty-first century. Kingston: Ian Randle, 1994. xvi + 272 pp.-Diane Vernon, Elisa Janine Sobo, One blood: The Jamaican body. Albany NY: State University of New York Press, 1993. vii + 329 pp.-Robert Myers, Patrick L. Baker, Centring the periphery: Chaos. order and the ethnohistory of Dominica. Kingston: The Press - University of the West Indies, 1994. xxviii + 251 pp.-Riva Berleant-Schiller, Debra Evenson, Revolution in the balance: Law and society in contemporary Cuba. Boulder CO: Westview, 1994. xiii + 235 pp.-Riva Berleant-Schiller, Mindie Lazarus-Black, Legitimate acts and illegal encounters: Law and society in Antigua and Barbuda. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1994. xxv + 357 pp.-Michiel Baud, Luis Martínez-Fernández, Torn between empires: Economy, society, and patterns of political thought in the Hispanic Caribbean, 1840-1878. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1994. ix + 333 pp.-Stanley L. Engerman, Jorge F. Pérez-López, The economics of Cuban sugar. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1991, xviii + 313 pp.-Rosario Espinal, Michiel Baud, Historia de un sueño: Los ferrocarriles públicos en la República Dominicana, 1880-1930. Santo Domingo: Fundación Cultural Dominicana, 1993. 145 pp.-Birgit Sonesson, Carlos Esteban Dieve, Las emigraciones canarias a Santo Domingo: Siglos XVII y XVIII. Santo Domingo: Fundación Cultural Dominicana, 1991. iii + 185 pp.-Erna Kerkhof, Juan Flores, Divided borders: Essays on Puerto Rican identity. Houston: Arte Público Press, 1993. 252 pp.-Cruz M. Nazario, Joan Koss-Chioino, Women as healers, women as patients: Mental health care and traditional healing in Puerto Rico. Boulder CO: Westview, 1992. xx + 237 pp.-Forrest D. Colburn, Andrés Serbin ,El Caribe y Cuba en la posguerra fría. Caracas: Editorial Nueva Sociedad, 1994. 272 pp., Joseph Tulchin (eds)-Winthrop R. Wright, Nina S. de Friedemann, La saga del negro: Presencia africana en Colombia. Santa Fe de Bogotá: Centro Editorial Javeriano, 1993. 117 pp.-Rita Giacalone, Francois Taglioni, Géopolitique des Petites Antilles: Influences européenne et nordaméricaine. Paris: Karthala, 1994. vii + 321 pp.-Daniel J. Crowley, Salikoko S. Mufwene, Africanisms in Afro-American language varieties. With the assistance of Nancy Condon. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1993. vii + 512 pp.-Peter Bakker, Joan D. Hall ,Old English and new: Studies in language and linguistics in honor of Frederic G. Cassidy. New York: Garland, 1992. xxxiii + 460 pp., Nick Doane, Dick Ringler (eds)-Peter Bakker, Francis Byrne ,Atlantic meets Pacific: A global view of Pidginization and Creolization. Amsterdam and Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 1993. ix + 465 pp., John Holm (eds)-Jacques Arends, George L. Huttar ,Ndyuka. London: Routledge, 1994. 631 pp., Mary L. Huttar (eds)-P.C. Emmer, Henk den Heyer, De geschiedenis van de WIC. Zutphen, Netherlands: De Walburg Pers, 1994. 208 pp.-Wim Hoogbergen, A.F. Paula, 'Vrije' slaven: Een sociaal-historische studie over de dualistische slavenemancipatie op Nederlands Sint Maarten, 1816-1863. Zutphen, Netherlands: De Walburg Pers, 1993. 191 pp.-Wim Hoogbergen, Bea Brommer, Ik ben eigendom van ...: Slavenhandel en plantageleven. Wijk en Aalburg, Netherlands: Pictures Publishers, 1993. 144 pp.-Gert Oostindie, Ben Scholtens, Bosnegers en overheid in Suriname: De ontwikkeling van de politieke verhouding 1651-1992. Paramaribo: Afdeling Cultuurstudies/Minov, 1994. 237 pp.-Edward M. Dew, Marten Schalkwijk, Suriname: Het steentje in de Nederlandse schoen: Van onafhankelijkheid tot raamverdrag. Paramaribo: Firgos Suriname, 1994. 356 pp.

This contribution aims to revise the taxonomy of the genus Heptodonta Hope, 1838, and provides a dichotomous key to the 15 species of this genus. Each species is described in detail with colour photographs of habitus and diagnostic characters. Information on distribution and biology of each species is provided. Heptodonta abasileia sp. nov., H. halensis sp. nov., H. horii sp. nov., H. schuelei sp. nov., H. tempesta sp. nov. and H. wiesneri sp. nov. are described. Heptodonta nigrosericea (W. Horn, 1930), stat. nov. is raised to species rank. Heptodonta ferrarii Gestro, 1893, syn. nov. and H. ferrarii shooki Wiesner, 1986, syn. nov. are placed into synonymy under H. pulchella (Hope, 1831). Heptodonta lumawigi Wiesner, 1980, syn. nov. is placed into synonymy under H. nigrosericea stat. nov. Females of H. vermifera W. Horn, 1908, and males of H. mindoroensis Cassola, 2000, are described for the first time. Lectotypes are designated for H. analis (Fabricius, 1801), H. arrowi W. Horn, 1900, H. ferrarii Gestro, 1893, H. hopei Parry, 1844, H. melanopyga (Schaum, 1862), H. nigrosericea (W. Horn, 1930), H. posticalis (White, 1844), H. pulchella (Hope, 1831), H. thongdii Fleutiaux, 1919, H. variipes (Chaudoir, 1850), H. vermifera W. Horn, 1908, and H. yunnana (Fairmaire, 1887). Holotype is designated by monotypy for H. eugenia Chaudoir, 1865. Regionally restricted records of two new species from the Philippine island Negros and one new species from the northeast Indian Garo Hills highlight the high conservation value of these rather small-scale regions.

-William Roseberry, Michel-Rolph Trouillot, Peasants and capital: Dominica in the world economy. Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press. Johns Hopkins Studies in Atlantic History and Culture, 1988. xiv + 344 pp.-Michel-Rolph Trouillot, Robert A. Myers, Dominica. Oxford, Santa Barbara, Denver: Clio Press, World Bibliographic Series, volume 82. xxv + 190 pp.-Michel-Rolph Trouillot, Robert A. Myers, A resource guide to Dominica, 1493-1986. New Haven: Human Area Files, HRA Flex Books, Bibliography Series, 1987. 3 volumes. xxxv + 649.-Stephen D. Glazier, Colin G. Clarke, East Indians in a West Indian town: San Fernando, Trinidad, 1930-1970. London: Allen and Unwin, 1986 xiv + 193 pp.-Kevin A. Yelvington, M.G. Smith, Culture, race and class in the Commonwealth Caribbean. Foreword by Rex Nettleford. Mona: Department of Extra-Mural Studies, University of the West Indies, 1984. xiv + 163 pp.-Aart G. Broek, T.F. Smeulders, Papiamentu en onderwijs: veranderingen in beeld en betekenis van de volkstaal op Curacoa. (Utrecht Dissertation), 1987. 328 p. Privately published.-John Holm, Peter A. Roberts, West Indians and their language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988 vii + 215 pp.-Kean Gibson, Francis Byrne, Grammatical relations in a radical Creole: verb complementation in Saramaccan. Amsterdam and Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, Creole Language Library, vol. 3, 1987. xiv + 294 pp.-Peter L. Patrick, Pieter Muysken ,Substrata versus universals in Creole genesis. Amsterdam and Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, Creol Language Library - vol 1, 1986. 315 pp., Norval Smith (eds)-Jeffrey P. Williams, Glenn G. Gilbert, Pidgin and Creole languages: essays in memory of John E. Reinecke. Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 1987. x + 502 pp.-Samuel M. Wilson, C.N. Dubelaar, The petroglyphs in the Guianas and adjacent areas of Brazil and Venezuela: an inventory. With a comprehensive biography of South American and Antillean petroglyphs. Los Angeles: The Institute of Archaeology of the University of California, Los Angeles. Monumenta Archeologica 12, 1986. xi + 326 pp.-Gary Brana-Shute, Henk E. Chin ,Surinam: politics, economics, and society. London and New York: Francis Pinter, 1987. xvii, 192 pp., Hans Buddingh (eds)-Lester D. Langley, Howard J. Wiarda ,The communist challenge in the Caribbean and Central America. With E. Evans, J. Valenta and V. Valenta. Lanham, MD: American Enterprise Institute for Public Policy Research. xiv + 249 pp., Mark Falcoff (eds)-Forrest D. Colburn, Michael Kaufman, Jamaica under Manley: dilemmas of socialism and democracy. London, Toronto, Westport: Zed Books, Between the Lines and Lawrence Hill, 1985. xvi 282 pp.-Dale Tomich, Robert Miles, Capitalism and unfree labour: anomaly or necessity? London. New York: Tavistock Publications. 1987. 250 pp.-Robert Forster, Mederic-Louis-Elie Moreau de Saint-Mery, A civilization that perished: the last years of white colonial rule in Haiti. Translated, abridged and edited by Ivor D. Spencer. Lanham, New York, London: University Press of America, 1985. xviii + 295 pp.-Carolyn E. Fick, Robert Louis Stein, Léger Félicité Sonthonax: the lost sentinel of the Republic. Rutherford, Madison: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press; London and Toronto: Associated University Press, 1985. 234 pp.

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

-Stanley L. Engerman, B.W. Higman, Slave populations of the British Caribbean, 1807-1834. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, Johns Hopkins Studies in Atlantic History and Culture, 1984. xxxiii + 781 pp.-Susan Lowes, Gad J. Heuman, Between black and white: race, politics, and the free coloureds in Jamaica, 1792-1865. Westport CT: Greenwood Press, Contributions in Comparative Colonial Studies No. 5, 1981. 20 + 321 pp.-Anthony Payne, Lester D. Langley, The banana wars: an inner history of American empire, 1900-1934. Lexington KY: University Press of Kentucky, 1983. VIII + 255 pp.-Roger N. Buckley, David Geggus, Slavery, war and revolution: the British occupation of Saint Domingue, 1793-1798. New York: The Clarendon Press, Oxford University Press, 1982. xli + 492 pp.-Gabriel Debien, George Breathett, The Catholic Church in Haiti (1704-1785): selected letters, memoirs and documents. Chapel Hill NC: Documentary Publications, 1983. xii + 202 pp.-Alex Stepick, Michel S. Laguerre, American Odyssey: Haitians in New York City. Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1984. 198 pp-Andres Serbin, H. Michael Erisman, The Caribbean challenge: U.S. policy in a volatile region. Boulder CO: Westview Press, 1984. xiii + 208 pp.-Andres Serbin, Ransford W. Palmer, Problems of development in beautiful countries: perspectives on the Caribbean. Lanham MD: The North-South Publishing Company, 1984. xvii + 91 pp.-Carl Stone, Anthony Payne, The politics of the Caribbean community 1961-79: regional integration among new states. Oxford: Manchester University Press, 1980. xi + 299 pp.-Evelyne Huber Stephens, Michael Manley, Jamaica: struggle in the periphery. London: Third World Media, in association with Writers and Readers Publishing Cooperative Society, 1982. xi + 259 pp.-Rhoda Reddock, Epica Task Force, Grenada: the peaceful revolution. Washington D.C., 1982. 132 pp.-Rhoda Reddock, W. Richard Jacobs ,Grenada: the route to revolution. Havana: Casa de Las Americas, 1979. 157 pp., Ian Jacobs (eds)-Jacqueline Anne Braveboy-Wagner, Andres Serbin, Geopolitica de las relaciones de Venezuela con el Caribe. Caracas: Fundación Fondo Editorial Acta Cientifica Venezolana, 1983.-Idsa E. Alegria-Ortega, Jorge Heine, Time for decision: the United States and Puerto Rico. Lanham MD: North-South Publishing Co., 1983. xi + 303 pp.-Richard Hart, Edward A. Alpers ,Walter Rodney, revolutionary and scholar: a tribute. Los Angeles: Center for Afro-American Studies and African Studies Center, University of California, 1982. xi + 187 pp., Pierre-Michel Fontaine (eds)-Paul Sutton, Patrick Solomon, Solomon: an autobiography. Trinidad: Inprint Caribbean, 1981. x + 253 pp.-Paul Sutton, Selwyn R. Cudjoe, Movement of the people: essays on independence. Ithaca NY: Calaloux Publications, 1983. xii + 217 pp.-David Barry Gaspar, Richard Price, To slay the Hydra: Dutch colonial perspectives on the Saramaka wars. Ann Arbor MI: Karoma Publishers, 1983. 249 pp.-Gary Brana-Shute, R. van Lier, Bonuman: een studie van zeven religieuze specialisten in Suriname. Leiden: Institute of Cultural and Social Studies, ICA Publication no. 60, 1983. iii + 132 pp.-W. van Wetering, Charles J. Wooding, Evolving culture: a cross-cultural study of Suriname, West Africa and the Caribbean. Washington: University Press of America 1981. 343 pp.-Humphrey E. Lamur, Sergio Diaz-Briquets, The health revolution in Cuba. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1983. xvii + 227 pp.-Forrest D. Colburn, Ramesh F. Ramsaran, The monetary and financial system of the Bahamas: growth, structure and operation. Mona, Jamaica: Institute of Social and Economic Research, University of the West Indies, 1984. xiii + 409 pp.-Wim Statius Muller, A.M.G. Rutten, Leven en werken van de dichter-musicus J.S. Corsen. Assen, The Netherlands: Van Gorcum, 1983. xiv + 340 pp.-Louis Allaire, Ricardo E. Alegria, Ball courts and ceremonial plazas in the West Indies. New Haven: Department of Anthropology of Yale University, Yale University Publications in Anthropology No. 79, 1983. lx + 185 pp.-Kenneth Ramchand, Sandra Paquet, The Novels of George Lamming. London: Heinemann, 1982. 132 pp.

During World War II, the Soviet Union’s food supply was in a state of crisis. Hitler’s army had occupied the agricultural heartlands of Ukraine and Southern Russia in 1941 and, as a result, agricultural production for the entire nation had plummeted. Soldiers in Red Army, who easily ate the best rations in the country, subsisted on a daily allowance of just under a kilogram of bread, supplemented with meat, tea, sugar and butter when and if these items were available. The hunger of the Red Army and its effect on the morale and strength of Europe’s eastern warfront were causes for concern for the Soviet government and its European and American allies. The one country with a food surplus decided to do something to help, and in 1942 the United States agreed to send thousands of pounds of meat, cheese and butter overseas to help feed the Red Army. After receiving several shipments of the all-American spiced canned meat SPAM, the Red Army’s quartermaster put in a request for a more familiar canned pork product, Russian tushonka. Pound for pound, America sent more pigs overseas than soldiers during World War II, in part because pork was in oversupply in the America of the early 1940s. Shipping meat to hungry soldiers and civilians in war torn countries was a practical way to build business for the U.S. meat industry, which had been in decline throughout the 1930s. As per a Soviet-supplied recipe, the first cans of Lend-Lease tushonka were made in the heart of the American Midwest, at meatpacking plants in Iowa and Ohio (Stettinus 6-7). Government contracts in the meat packing industry helped fuel economic recovery, and meatpackers were in a position to take special request orders like the one for tushonka that came through the lines. Unlike SPAM, which was something of a novelty item during the war, tushonka was a food with a past. The original recipe was based on a recipe for preserved meat that had been a traditional product of the Ural Mountains, preserved in jars with salt and fat rather than by pressure and heat. Thus tushonka was requested—and was mass-produced—not simply as a convenience but also as a traditional and familiar food—a taste of home cooking that soldiers could carry with them into the field. Nikita Khrushchev later claimed that the arrival of tushonka was instrumental in helping the Red Army push back against the Nazi invasion (178). Unlike SPAM and other wartime rations, tushonka did not fade away after the war. Instead, it was distributed to the Soviet civilian population, appearing in charity donations and on the shelves of state shops. Often it was the only meat product available on a regular basis. Salty, fatty, and slightly grey-toned, tushonka was an unlikely hero of the postwar-era, but during this period tushonka rose from obscurity to become an emblem of socialist modernity. Because it was shelf stable and could be made from a variety of different cuts of meat, it proved an ideal product for the socialist production lines where supplies and the pace of production were infinitely variable. Unusual in a socialist system of supply, this product shaped production and distribution lines, and even influenced the layout of meatpacking factories and the genetic stocks of the animals that were to be eaten. Tushonka’s initial ubiquity in the postwar Soviet Union had little to do with the USSR’s own hog industry. Pig populations as well as their processing facilities had been decimated in the war, and pigs that did survive the Axis invasion had been evacuated East with human populations. Instead, the early presence of tushonka in the pig-scarce postwar Soviet Union had everything to do with Harry Truman’s unexpected September 1945 decision to end all “economically useful” Lend-Lease shipments to the Soviet Union (Martel). By the end of September, canned meat was practically the only product still being shipped as part of Lend-Lease (NARA RG 59). Although the United Nations was supposed to distribute these supplies to needy civilians free of cost, travelers to the Soviet Union in 1946 spotted cans of American tushonka for sale in state shops (Skeoch 231). After American tushonka “donations” disappeared from store shelves, the Soviet Union’s meat syndicates decided to continue producing the product. Between its first appearance during the war in 1943, and the 1957 announcement by Nikita Khrushchev that Soviet policy would restructure all state animal farms to support the mass production of one or several processed meat products, tushonka helped to drive the evolution of the Soviet Union’s meat packing industry. Its popularity with both planners and the public gave it the power to reach into food commodity chains. It is this backward reach and the longer-term impacts of these policies that make tushonka an unusual byproduct of the Cold War era. State planners loved tushonka: it was cheap to make, the logistics of preparing it were not complicated, it was easy to transport, and most importantly, it served as tangible evidence that the state was accomplishing a long-standing goal to get more meat to its citizenry and improving the diet of the average Soviet worker. Tushonka became a highly visible product in the Soviet Union’s much vaunted push to establish a modern food regime intended to rival that of the United States. Because it was shelf-stable, wartime tushonka had served as a practical food for soldiers, but after the war tushonka became an ideal food for workers who had neither the time nor the space to prepare a home-cooked meal with fresh meat. The Soviet state started to produce its own tushonka because it was such an excellent fit for the needs and abilities of the Soviet state—consumer demand was rarely considered by planners in this era. Not only did tushonka fit the look and taste of a modern processed meat product (that is, it was standard in texture and flavor from can to can, and was an obviously industrially processed product), it was also an excellent way to make the most of the predominant kind of meat the Soviet Union had the in the 1950s: small scraps low-grade pork and beef, trimmings leftover from butchering practices that focused on harvesting as much animal fat, rather than muscle, from the carcass in question. Just like tushonka, pork sausages and frozen pelmeny, a meat-filled pasta dumpling, also became winning postwar foods thanks to a happy synergy of increased animal production, better butchering and new food processing machines. As postwar pigs recovered their populations, the Soviet processed meat industry followed suit. One official source listed twenty-six different kinds of meat products being issued in 1964, although not all of these were pork (Danilov). An instructional manual distributed by the meat and milk syndicate demonstrated how meat shops should wrap and display sausages, and listed 24 different kinds of sausages that all needed a special style of tying up. Because of packaging shortages, the string that bound the sausage was wrapped in a different way for every type of sausage, and shop assistants were expected to be able to identify sausages based on the pattern of their binding. Pelmeny were produced at every meat factory that processed pork. These were “made from start to finish in a special, automated machine, human hands do not touch them. Which makes them a higher quality and better (prevoskhodnogo) product” (Book of Healthy and Delicious Food). These were foods that became possible to produce economically because of a co-occurring increase in pigs, the new standardized practice of equipping meatpacking plants with large-capacity grinders, and freezers or coolers and the enforcement of a system of grading meat. As the state began to rebuild Soviet agriculture from its near-collapse during the war, the Soviet Union looked to the United States for inspiration. Surprisingly, Soviet planners found some of the United States’ more outdated techniques to be quite valuable for new Soviet hog operations. The most striking of these was the adoption of competing phenotypes in the Soviet hog industry. Most major swine varieties had been developed and described in the 19th century in Germany and Great Britain. Breeds had a tendency to split into two phenotypically distinct groups, and in early 20th Century American pig farms, there was strong disagreement as to which style of pig was better suited to industrial conditions of production. Some pigs were “hot-blooded” (in other words, fast maturing and prolific reproducers) while others were a slower “big type” pig (a self-explanatory descriptor). Breeds rarely excelled at both traits and it was a matter of opinion whether speed or size was the most desirable trait to augment. The over-emphasis of either set of qualities damaged survival rates. At their largest, big type pigs resembled small hippopotamuses, and sows were so corpulent they unwittingly crushed their tiny piglets. But the sleeker hot-blooded pigs had a similarly lethal relationship with their young. Sows often produced litters of upwards of a dozen piglets and the stress of tending such a large brood led overwhelmed sows to devour their own offspring (Long). American pig breeders had been forced to navigate between these two undesirable extremes, but by the 1930s, big type pigs were fading in popularity mainly because butter and newly developed plant oils were replacing lard as the cooking fat of preference in American kitchens. The remarkable propensity of the big type to pack on pounds of extra fat was more of a liability than a benefit in this period, as the price that lard and salt pork plummeted in this decade. By the time U.S. meat packers were shipping cans of tushonka to their Soviet allies across the seas, US hog operations had already developed a strong preference for hot-blooded breeds and research had shifted to building and maintaining lean muscle on these swiftly maturing animals. When Soviet industrial planners hoping to learn how to make more tushonka entered the scene however, their interpretation of american efficiency was hardly predictable: scientifically nourished big type pigs may have been advantageous to the United States at midcentury, but the Soviet Union’s farms and hungry citizens had a very different list of needs and wants. At midcentury, Soviet pigs were still handicapped by old-fashioned variables such as cold weather, long winters, poor farm organisation and impoverished feed regimens. The look of the average Soviet hog operation was hardly industrial. In 1955 the typical Soviet pig was petite, shaggy, and slow to reproduce. In the absence of robust dairy or vegetable oil industries, Soviet pigs had always been valued for their fat rather than their meat, and tushonka had been a byproduct of an industry focused mainly on supplying the country with fat and lard. Until the mid 1950s, the most valuable pig on many Soviet state and collective farms was the nondescript but very rotund “lard and bacon” pig, an inefficient eater that could take upwards of two years to reach full maturity. In searching for a way to serve up more tushonka, Soviet planners became aware that their entire industry needed to be revamped. When the Soviet Union looked to the United States, planners were inspired by the earlier competition between hot-blooded and big type pigs, which Soviet planners thought, ambitiously, they could combine into one splendid pig. The Soviet Union imported new pigs from Poland, Lithuania, East Germany and Denmark, trying valiantly to create hybrid pigs that would exhibit both hot blood and big type. Soviet planners were especially interested in inspiring the Poland-China, an especially rotund specimen, to speed up its life cycle during them mid 1950s. Hybrdizing and cross breeding a Soviet super-pig, no matter how closely laid out on paper, was probably always a socialist pipe dream. However, when the Soviets decided to try to outbreed American hog breeders, they created an infrastructure for pigs and pig breeding that had a dramatic positive impact of hog populations across the country, and the 1950s were marked by a large increase in the number of pigs in the Soviet union, as well as dramatic increases in the numbers of purebred and scientific hybrids the country developed, all in the name of tushonka. It was not just the genetic stock that received a makeover in the postwar drive to can more tushonka; a revolution in the barnyard also took place and in less than 10 years, pigs were living in new housing stock and eating new feed sources. The most obvious postwar change was in farm layout and the use of building space. In the early 1950s, many collective farms had been consolidated. In 1940 there were a quarter of a million kolkhozii, by 1951 fewer than half that many remained (NARA RG166). Farm consolidation movements most often combined two, three or four collective farms into one economic unit, thus scaling up the average size and productivity of each collective farm and simplifying their administration. While there were originally ambitious plans to re-center farms around new “agro-city” bases with new, modern farm buildings, these projects were ultimately abandoned. Instead, existing buildings were repurposed and the several clusters of farm buildings that had once been the heart of separate villages acquired different uses. For animals this meant new barns and new daily routines. Barns were redesigned and compartmentalized around ideas of gender and age segregation—weaned baby pigs in one area, farrowing sows in another—as well as maximising growth and health. Pigs spent less outside time and more time at the trough. Pigs that were wanted for different purposes (breeding, meat and lard) were kept in different areas, isolated from each other to minimize the spread of disease as well as improve the efficiency of production. Much like postwar housing for humans, the new and improved pig barn was a crowded and often chaotic place where the electricity, heat and water functioned only sporadically. New barns were supposed to be mechanised. In some places, mechanisation had helped speed things along, but as one American official viewing a new mechanised pig farm in 1955 noted, “it did not appear to be a highly efficient organisation. The mechanised or automated operations, such as the preparation of hog feed, were eclipsed by the amount of hand labor which both preceded and followed the mechanised portion” (NARA RG166 1961). The American official estimated that by mechanizing, Soviet farms had actually increased the amount of human labor needed for farming operations. The other major environmental change took place away from the barnyard, in new crops the Soviet Union began to grow for fodder. The heart and soul of this project was establishing field corn as a major new fodder crop. Originally intended as a feed for cows that would replace hay, corn quickly became the feed of choice for raising pigs. After a visit by a United States delegation to Iowa and other U.S. farms over the summer of 1955, corn became the centerpiece of Khrushchev’s efforts to raise meat and milk productivity. These efforts were what earned Khrushchev his nickname of kukuruznik, or “corn fanatic.” Since so little of the Soviet Union looks or feels much like the plains and hills of Iowa, adopting corn might seem quixotic, but raising corn was a potentially practical move for a cold country. Unlike the other major fodder crops of turnips and potatoes, corn could be harvested early, while still green but already possessing a high level of protein. Corn provided a “gap month” of green feed during July and August, when grazing animals had eaten the first spring green growth but these same plants had not recovered their biomass. What corn remained in the fields in late summer was harvested and made into silage, and corn made the best silage that had been historically available in the Soviet Union. The high protein content of even silage made from green mass and unripe corn ears prevented them from losing weight in the winter. Thus the desire to put more meat on Soviet tables—a desire first prompted by American food donations of surplus pork from Iowa farmers adapting to agro-industrial reordering in their own country—pushed back into the commodity supply network of the Soviet Union. World War II rations that were well adapted to the uncertainty and poor infrastructure not just of war but also of peacetime were a source of inspiration for Soviet planners striving to improve the diets of citizens. To do this, they purchased and bred more and better animals, inventing breeds and paying attention, for the first time, to the efficiency and speed with which these animals were ready to become meat. Reinventing Soviet pigs pushed even back farther, and inspired agricultural economists and state planners to embrace new farm organizational structures. Pigs meant for the tushonka can spent more time inside eating, and led their lives in a rigid compartmentalization that mimicked emerging trends in human urban society. Beyond the barnyard, a new concern with feed-to weight conversions led agriculturalists to seek new crops; crops like corn that were costly to grow but were a perfect food for a pig destined for a tushonka tin. Thus in Soviet industrialization, pigs evolved. No longer simply recyclers of human waste, socialist pigs were consumers in their own right, their newly crafted genetic compositions demanded ever more technical feed sources in order to maximize their own productivity. Food is transformative, and in this case study the prosaic substance of canned meat proved to be unusually transformative for the history of the Soviet Union. In its early history it kept soldiers alive long enough to win an important war, later the requirements for its manufacture re-prioritized muscle tissue over fat tissue in the disassembly of carcasses. This transformative influence reached backwards into the supply lines and farms of the Soviet Union, revolutionizing the scale and goals of farming and meat packing for the Soviet food industry, as well as the relationship between the pig and the consumer. References Bentley, Amy. Eating for Victory: Food Rationing and the Politics of Domesticity. Where: University of Illinois Press, 1998. The Book of Healthy and Delicious Food, Kniga O Vkusnoi I Zdorovoi Pishche. Moscow: AMN Izd., 1952. 161. Danilov, M. M. Tovaravedenie Prodovol’stvennykh Tovarov: Miaso I Miasnye Tovarye. Moscow: Iz. Ekonomika, 1964. Khrushchev, Nikita. Khrushchev Remembers. New York: Little, Brown & Company, 1970. 178. Long, James. The Book of the Pig. London: Upcott Gill, 1886. 102. Lush, Jay & A.L. Anderson, “A Genetic History of Poland-China Swine: I—Early Breed History: The ‘Hot Blood’ versus the ‘Big Type’” Journal of Heredity 30.4 (1939): 149-56. Martel, Leon. Lend-Lease, Loans, and the Coming of the Cold War: A Study of the Implementation of Foreign Policy. Boulder: Westview Press, 1979. 35. National Archive and Records Administration (NARA). RG 59, General Records of the Department of State. Office of Soviet Union affairs, Box 6. “Records relating to Lend Lease with the USSR 1941-1952”. National Archive and Records Administration (NARA). RG166, Records of the Foreign Agricultural Service. Narrative reports 1940-1954. USSR Cotton-USSR Foreign trade. Box 64, Folder “farm management”. Report written by David V Kelly, 6 Apr. 1951. National Archive and Records Administration (NARA). RG 166, Records of the Foreign Agricultural Service. Narrative Reports 1955-1961. Folder: “Agriculture” “Visits to Soviet agricultural installations,” 15 Nov. 1961. Skeoch, L.A. Food Prices and Ration Scale in the Ukraine, 1946 The Review of Economics and Statistics 35.3 (Aug. 1953), 229-35. State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF). Fond R-7021. The Report of Extraordinary Special State Commission on Wartime Losses Resulting from the German-Fascist Occupation cites the following losses in the German takeover. 1948. Stettinus, Edward R. Jr. Lend-Lease: Weapon for Victory. Penguin Books, 1944.

'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]).


 
 
 Since the fall of the Berlin Wall, and most particularly since 9/11, the government of the United States has used its security services to enforce the order it desires for the world. The US government and its security services appreciate the importance of creating the ideological environment that allows them full-scope in their activities. To these ends they have turned to the movie industry which has not been slow in accommodating the purposes of the state. In establishing the parameters of the War Against Terror after 9/11, one of the Bush Administration’s first stops was Hollywood. White House strategist Karl Rove called what is now described as the Beverley Hills Summit on 19 November 2001 where top movie industry players including chairman of the Motion Picture Association of America, Jack Valenti met to discuss ways in which the movie industry could assist in the War Against Terror. After a ritual assertion of Hollywood’s independence, the movie industry’s powerbrokers signed up to the White House’s agenda: “that Americans must be called to national service; that Americans should support the troops; that this is a global war that needs a global response; that this is a war against evil” (Cooper 13). Good versus evil is, of course, a staple commodity for the movie industry but storylines never require the good guys to fight fair so with this statement the White House got what it really wanted: Hollywood’s promise to stay on the big picture in black and white while studiously avoiding the troubling detail in the exercise extra-judicial force and state-sanctioned murder. This is not to suggest that the movie industry is a monolithic ideological enterprise. Alternative voices like Mike Moore and Susan Sarandon still find space to speak. But the established economics of the scenario trade are too strong for the movie industry to resist: producers gain access to expensive weaponry to assist production if their story-lines are approved by Pentagon officials (‘Pentagon provides for Hollywood’); the Pentagon finances movie and gaming studios to provide original story formulas to keep their war-gaming relevant to emerging conditions (Lippman); and the Central Intelligence Agency’s “entertainment liaison officer” assists producers in story development and production (Gamson). In this context, the moulding of story-lines to the satisfaction of the Pentagon and CIA is not even an issue, and protestations of Hollywood’s independence is meaningless, as the movie industry pursues patriotic audiences at home and seeks to garner hearts and minds abroad. This is old history made new again. The Cold War in the 1950s saw movies addressing the disruption of world order not so much by Communists as by “others”: sci-fi aliens, schlock horror zombies, vampires and werewolves and mad scientists galore. By the 1960s the James Bond movie franchise, developed by MI5 operative Ian Fleming, saw Western secret agents ‘licensed to kill’ with the justification that such powers were required to deal with threats to world order, albeit by fanciful “others” such as the fanatical scientist Dr. No (1962). The Bond villains provide a catalogue of methods for the disruption of world order: commandeering atomic weapons and space flights, manipulating finance markets, mind control systems and so on. As the Soviet Union disintegrated, Hollywood produced a wealth of material that excused the paranoid nationalism of the security services through the hegemonic masculinity of stars such as Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Steven Seagal and Bruce Willis (Beasley). Willis’s Die Hard franchise (1988/1990/1995) characterised US insouciance in the face of newly created terrorist threats. Willis personified the strategy of the Reagan, first Bush and Clinton administrations: a willingness to up the ante, second guess the terrorists and cower them with the display of firepower advantage. But the 1997 instalment of the James Bond franchise saw an important shift in expectations about the source of threats to world order. Tomorrow Never Dies features a media tycoon bent on world domination, manipulating the satellite feed, orchestrating conflicts and disasters in the name of ratings, market share and control. Having dealt with all kinds of Cold War plots, Bond is now confronted with the power of the media itself. As if to mark this shift, Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997) made a mockery of the creatively bankrupt conventions of the spy genre. But it was the politically corrupt use to which the security services could be put that was troubling a string of big-budget filmmakers in the late 90s. In Enemy of the State (1998), an innocent lawyer finds himself targeted by the National Security Agency after receiving evidence of a political murder motivated by the push to extend the NSA’s powers. In Mercury Rising (1998), a renegade FBI agent protects an autistic boy who cracks a top-secret government code and becomes the target for assassins from an NSA-like organisation. Arlington Road (1999) features a college professor who learns too much about terrorist organisations and has his paranoia justified when he becomes the target of a complex operation to implicate him as a terrorist. The attacks on September 11 and subsequent Beverley Hills Summit had a major impact on movie product. Many film studios edited films (Spiderman) or postponed their release (Schwarzenegger’s Collateral Damage) where they were seen as too close to actual events but insufficiently patriotic (Townsend). The Bond franchise returned to its staple of fantastical villains. In Die Another Day (2002), the bad guy is a billionaire with a laser cannon. The critical perspective on the security services disappeared overnight. But the most interesting development has been how fantasy has become the key theme in a number of franchises dealing with world order that have had great box-office success since 9/11, particularly Lord of the Rings (2001/2/3) and Harry Potter (2001/2/4). While deeply entrenched in the fantasy genre, each of these franchises also addresses security issues: geo-political control in the Rings franchise; the subterfuges of the Ministry for Muggles in the _Potter _franchise. Looking at world order through the supernatural lens has particular appeal to audiences confronted with everyday threats. These fantasies follow George Bush’s rhetoric of the “axis of evil” in normalising the struggle for world order in term of black and white with the expectation that childish innocence and naïve ingenuity will prevail. Only now with three years hindsight since September 11 can we begin to see certain amount of self-reflection by disenchanted security staff return to the cinema. In Man on Fire (2004) the burned-out ex-CIA assassin has given up on life but regains some hope while guarding a child only to have everything disintegrate when the child is killed and he sets out on remorseless revenge. Spartan (2004) features a special forces officer who fails to find a girl and resorts to remorseless revenge as he becomes lost in a maze of security bureaucracies and chance events. Security service personnel once again have their doubts but only find redemption in violence and revenge without remorse. From consideration of films before and after September 11, it becomes apparent that the movie industry has delivered on their promises to the Bush administration. The first response has been the shift to fantasy that, in historical terms, will be seen as akin to the shift to musicals in the Depression. The flight to fantasy makes the point that complex situations can be reduced to simple moral decisions under the rubric of good versus evil, which is precisely what the US administration requested. The second, more recent response has been to accept disenchantment with the personal costs of the War on Terror but still validate remorseless revenge. Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill franchise (2003/4) seeks to do both. Thus the will to world order being fought out in the streets of Iraq is sublimated into fantasy or excused as a natural response to a world of violence. It is interesting to note that television has provided more opportunities for the productive consideration of world order and the security services than the movies since September 11. While programs that have had input from the CIA’s “entertainment liaison officer” such as teen-oriented, Buffy-inspired Alias and quasi-authentic The Agency provide a no-nonsense justification for the War on Terror (Gamson), others such as 24, West Wing _and _Threat Matrix have confronted the moral problems of torture and murder in the War on Terrorism. 24 uses reality TV conventions of real-time plot, split screen exposition, unexpected interventions and a close focus on personal emotions to explore the interactions between a US President and an officer in the Counter Terrorism Unit. The CTU officer does not hesitate to summarily behead a criminal or kill a colleague for operational purposes and the president takes only a little longer to begin torturing recalcitrant members of his own staff. Similarly, the president in West Wing orders the extra-judicial death of a troublesome player and the team in Threat Matrix are ready to exceeded their powers. But in these programs the characters struggle with the moral consequences of their violent acts, particularly as family members are drawn into the plot. A running theme of Threat Matrix is the debate within the group of their choices between gung-ho militarism and peaceful diplomacy: the consequences of a simplistic, hawkish approach are explored when an Arab-American college professor is wrongfully accused of supporting terrorists and driven towards the terrorists because of his very ordeal of wrongful accusation. The world is not black and white. Almost half the US electorate voted for John Kerry. Television still must cater for liberal, and wealthy, demographics who welcome the extended format of weekly television that allows a continuing engagement with questions of good or evil and whether there is difference between them any more. Against the simple world view of the Bush administration we have the complexities of the real world. References Beasley, Chris. “Reel Politics.” Australian Political Studies Association Conference, University of Adelaide, 2004. Cooper, Marc. “Lights! Cameras! Attack!: Hollywood Enlists.” The Nation 10 December 2001: 13-16. Gamson, J. “Double Agents.” The American Prospect 12.21 (3 December 2001): 38-9. Lippman, John. “Hollywood Casts About for a War Role.” Wall Street Journal 9 November 2001: A1. “Pentagon Provides for Hollywood.” USA Today 29 March 2001. http://www.usatoday.com/life/movies/2001-05-17-pentagon-helps-hollywood.htm>. Townsend, Gary. “Hollywood Uses Selective Censorship after 9/11.” e.press 12 December 2002. http://www.scc.losrios.edu/~express/021212hollywood.html>. 
 
 
 
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Tese de mestrado, Arte e multimédia (Audiovisuais), Universidade de Lisboa, Faculdade de Belas Artes, 2012<br>O titulo apresenta-se escrito de forma inversa como se de negativo se tratasse<br>The human binocular vision results from a stereoscopic phenomenon. This allows one to acquire a three-dimensional image of the perceptual space based on the laws of perspective. The confidence with which one accepts and interacts with this alleged truth is the same that allows one to admit the virtual, a world of illusion. Taking an Art and Multimedia’s theoretical and practical dissertation as a connection between two worlds – the textual and the visual –, one can verify that it’s established accordingly to a cyclic and self-referential system. This articulates the dichotomies: theory/practice and textual/visual. The virtual demonstration of its complementarity generates a hybrid language inherent to it, which shapes a dissertation that presents itself as a symbol of its theoretical and practical condition

This book tells the remarkable personal and professional story of Lewis Milestone (1895-1980), one of the most prolific, creative and respected film directors of Hollywood’s Golden Age. Among his many films are the classics All Quiet on the Western Front, Of Mice and Men, A Walk in the Sun, Pork Chop Hill, the original Ocean’s Eleven and Mutiny on the Bounty, starring Marlon Brando. Born in Ukraine, he came to America as a teenager and learned about film in the U.S. Army in World War I. By the early 1920s he was editing silent films in Hollywood, and soon graduated to shooting his own features. His films were nominated for 28 different Academy Awards during a career that lasted 40 years. Among the many stars whom he directed were Barbara Stanwyck, Ingrid Bergman, Gregory Peck, Errol Flynn, Gary Cooper, Frank Sinatra, Joan Crawford and Kirk Douglas. Providing biographical information, production history and critical analysis, this first major scholarly study of Milestone places his films in a political, cultural and cinematic context. Also discussed in depth, using newly available archival material, is Milestone’s experience during the Hollywood Blacklist period, when he was one of the first prominent Hollywood figures to fall under suspicion for his alleged Communist sympathies. Drawing on his personal papers at the AMPAS library, my book gives Milestone the honored place herichly deserves in the American film canon.

This chapter covers the tumultuous 1960s at UNC and beyond, and at the Daily Tar Heel. The 1960 Dixie Classic, UNC’s most infamous sports scandal, is discussed, as is a 1961 speech on campus by President John F. Kennedy. The Civil Rights Movement is covered in detail, as Chapel Hill was a center for protest; the student newspaper took on a new activist role during this time, sending reporters across the South to report on Civil Rights events. The infamous Speaker Ban Law is examined in detail, 1963-1968. In 1963 UNC became completely co-educational, and the changes on campus and the issues facing women students is explored, including the role of the sexual revolution, access to birth control, and the fight over legalizing abortion. The major shift in state politics, away from one-party Democratic rule is discussed, and the rise of conservative politician Jesse Helms, who used UNC and the Daily Tar Heel as examples of extreme liberalism and permissiveness to help build his political base. The Vietnam War, the 1969 UNC Foodworker’s Strike, gay rights, and contributions of later renowned cartoonist Jeff MacNelly on the newspaper are other topics in this chapter

The road from Irkutsk to Lake Baikal, unlike the roads we traveled with Andrei approaching the lake’s eastern shore, is smooth, straight, and well maintained. But in the first snow of the Siberian winter, it’s almost impassible nonetheless, as it struggles on its arrow-straight trajectory to negotiate wave after wave of steep hills. Its stubborn course ignores the promise of an easier if somewhat longer approach were it to wander to one side or the other, dooming local residents to a treacherous journey for six months of the year, and it suggests the firm determination of a ministry chief in Moscow that the most direct road be built between the regional capital and the lake, no matter what. And in fact, I will learn after traveling this road that this is exactly what happened. In 1960, at the height of the cold war, the U.S. and the USSR brokered a deal for President Eisenhower to visit Russia. Included on his itinerary was to be a stop in Irkutsk, and a visit to Siberia’s famous lake, sixty kilometers away. There was no modern road between the two, so Moscow commanded that one be built, and it was—in just two months. But Eisenhower never came. Just before he was to depart, Gary Francis Powers’s U2 spy plane was shot down over Russia. The trip was canceled, and a new freeze settled over relations between the two adversaries. But, as imperfect as it is, the region did get a road between Irkutsk and Baikal, and after forty years local residents have gotten quite used to the sometimes white-knuckle ride. Over forty years, I might get used to it, too. The little white minibus into which James and Olga and I are now crammed with a dozen or so other passengers rises and falls like a roller coaster cart, except that this feels like even less sturdy and dependable transportation. Snow squalls are blowing through the Angara Valley, and when the bus isn’t being buffeted by gusts of wind, it’s straining to climb a slippery slope.