Статті в журналах з теми "Sud Poitou"

Résumé Plusieurs auteurs soutiennent que c’est au xviie siècle que les Hollandais introduisirent les techniques et les engins d’assèchement dans les marais du sud-ouest français et que ces techniques furent transmises par la suite aux Acadiens installés au Nouveau Monde. Or il ne faut surtout pas oublier que, depuis quelques siècles déjà, des techniques françaises d’assèchement proprement dites étaient utilisées dans le sud-ouest. En outre, les guerres de religion et les révolutions paysannes surent freiner l’implantation hollandaise dans cette grande région jusqu’à la fin du xviie siècle. On peut donc affirmer que, au début de ce siècle, les techniques d’assèchement introduites en Acadie, tirées entre autres du Poitou, devaient être bel et bien françaises. Elles furent adaptées aux marais limitrophes à la baie Française (baie de Fundy). Plus d’un siècle plus tard, à l’époque du Grand Dérangement (1755–1763), les techniques acadiennes furent transmises à la fois chez les Planters des Maritimes et dans les colonies américaines. Enfin, il faut noter la transformation de ces techniques à travers le temps et la survivance d’une expertise véritablement acadienne, qui sera recherchée à maintes reprises, souvent en période de crise aux xixe et xxe siècles, ici même dans les provinces maritimes.

Plus d'un siècle après l'établissement des Normands en Italie du Sud, une autre dynastie franque, originaire du Poitou, s'établit en pays grec et étend sa domination sur une population majoritairement hellénophone, de culture et de foi grecques à Chypre : les Lusignans en 11922. La monarchie franque s'y maintient jusqu'en 1473, année où s'amorce la transition politique et administrative de l'île vers le règne vénitien (1489-1570/1571). Le détournement de la quatrième croisade sur Constantinople (1203-1204) marque une étape supplémentaire dans l'expansion latine en Orient : la prise de la capitale de l'empire byzantin (12-15 avril 1204) convainc les croisés de leur irrésistible force. Les Latins se dispersent alors sur les routes de la Grèce continentale et insulaire, que leurs chefs ont prévue de se répartir avant même la prise de Constantinople (Van Tricht 2011 : 41-46). Le Péloponnèse est conquis en 1205 par des chevaliers franc-comtois et champenois : la principauté franque de Morée survit diffcilement jusqu'en 1430, date à laquelle elle est cédée au despotat d'Épire. Les grands vainqueurs de la conquête latine sont finalement les Vénitiens qui établissent un empire colonial dont I 'île de Crète constitue la plus importante terre de peuplement (1205-1645/1669). La domination latine se replie aux 19 et 16 siècles sous l'effet des conquêtes ottomanes, mais une poche de résistance latine se maintient encore à Corfou au 1 V siècle.

Il a été clairement établi que le trouble de la personnalité borderline (BDP) est fréquemment associé aux troubles liés à la consommation de substances (SUD). En effet, depuis longtemps, plusieurs études se sont penchées sur l’association fréquente rencontrée entre le SUD et le BDP. Les données de la littérature admettent en moyenne une prévalence de 50 % de diagnostic de trouble des substances chez les patients présentant un trouble BDP. De plus, la grande majorité des individus borderlines présentant une comorbidité SUD la développe au cours de leur adolescence. En allant plus loin nous sommes tentés de penser que les éléments à l’origine de la mise en place d’un SUD chez les borderline sont présents dès l’adolescence. Ceci pose donc la question de la fonction de la consommation de substance dans l’économie psychique du borderline ainsi que leurs liens avec le processus d’adolescence. Ainsi, la consommation de substance est particulièrement importante chez les adolescents borderline et constitue l’une des principales comorbidités. La rencontre avec une substance psychoactive (alcool, cannabis ou autre) en plein processus d’adolescence semble jouer deux fonctions : d’une part, elle devient un moyen de palier au manque de capacités de régulations émotionnelles particulièrement sollicitées à cette période de la vie et tente ainsi de canaliser un débordement psychique. D’autre part, elle ravive par l’intensité de son vécu les expériences précoces de saturations émotionnelles à l’origine des dysfonctionnements du système de régulation des émotions. À la fois remède et poison la consommation risque de fixer d’avantage la construction du trouble borderline dans un cercle de renforcement auto-entretenu. L’adolescence étant par ailleurs une occasion de moduler, de remodeler certains aspects du rapport au monde, elle est une période particulièrement pertinente pour la mise en place d’une action thérapeutique.

Phytophthora ramorum is an invasive pathogen in some mixed-hardwood forests in California and southwestern Oregon, where it causes sudden oak death (SOD) on some members of Fagaceae, ramorum shoot dieback on some members of Ericaceae and conifers, and ramorum leaf blight on diverse hosts. We compared symptoms of P. ramorum infection resulting from four different artificial inoculation techniques with the symptoms of natural infection on 49 western forest trees and shrubs; 80% proved susceptible to one degree or another. No single inoculation method predicted the full range of symptoms observed in the field, but whole plant dip came closest. Detached-leaf-dip inoculation provided a rapid assay and permitted a reasonable assessment of susceptibility to leaf blight. Both leaf age and inoculum dose affected detached-leaf assays. SOD and dieback hosts often developed limited leaf symptoms, although the pattern of midrib and petiole necrosis was distinctive. Stem-wound inoculation of seedlings correlated with field symptoms for several hosts. The results suggested that additional conifer species may be damaged in the field. Log inoculation provided a realistic test of susceptibility to SOD, but was cumbersome and subject to seasonal variability. Pacific rhododendron, salmonberry, cascara, and poison oak were confirmed as hosts by completing Koch's postulates. Douglas-fir was most susceptible to shoot dieback shortly after budburst, with infection occurring at the bud.

Fresh groundwater quality and accessibility in coastal zones is influenced via seawater interruption into coastal aquifers, and coastal water quality and biological community status might be altogether influenced by groundwater pollutants that are transported into coastal waters by submarine groundwater discharge (SGD). SGD and its pertinent evaluation as one associating part among the different principle local pathways of freshwater and tracer/poison contributions from land to sea and the coordinated framework working of both and as primary segments of the same coastal groundwater framework. An elective technique might be to control seawater interruption through fake groundwater revive, for example by adequately treated wastewater, which may impressively decrease long haul patterns of saltiness increment in pumped groundwater, notwithstanding for little simulated energize rates contrasted with pumping rates. Both the outside sources and the interior wellsprings of water seepage might be distinguished via doing infrared thermo-realistic assessments subsequent to directing water snugness tests, flooding tests or pressure driven tests as suitable. A contextual investigation was led to discover the examinations on groundwater issues in a region subjected to sea water ingression and seepage into groundwater in Karaikal

Abstract One of the authors (Skroch) has been asking himself since the early years of a long-term study initiated in 1966 (77) “What is a weed to a tree?” Apple trees in the mowed grass check plots grew less than in plots with woody vines. In another test comparing mowed sod, contact herbicide, and residual plus contact herbicide, trees having an herbicide program yielded 400 bushels/acre more fruit in the 5th year than those without. Apples in another orchard were of higher grade in plots with over 50% trailing blackberry (Rubus sp.) and poison ivy (Rhus radicans L.) ground covers than those from an area with a mowed-lawn appearance. The practice of frequent mowing, which increased grass covers in the 1960s, may have been a factor in the small fruit problem of the 1970s.

The tiger quoll is a large marsupial carnivore that occurs in forested habitat in south-eastern Australia. Three tiger quoll populations were trapped for up to six years and data on population parameters, including size, structure, sex ratio, adult : subadult ratio, weight, breeding characteristics, age and longevity were recorded for each population. Sex ratios (♂ : ♀) varied from 5 : 1 to 0 : 1. Population size and age structure reflected previous mortality events and social organisation traits, with all populations showing signs of instability due to disturbance events. Males did not reach full adult weight until three years of age and females until two years. Mean adult male weight was 2.81 kg ± 0.50 (s.d.) (range 2.0–4.2 kg) and mean adult female weight was 1.73 kg ± 0.22 (s.d.) (range 1.2–2.1 kg). Most females did not breed before two years of age and were recorded breeding up to four years of age. A proportion of females did not appear to breed in consecutive years. Matings were estimated to have occurred between late June and early August and births between mid-July and late August. Pouch litter size varied from 4 to 6 with a mean of 5.38 ± 0.65 (s.d.). The adult to juvenile ratio suggests that the mean number of young weaned per female is probably as low as one or two. Monitoring of four females found that the average number of young weaned was three with a range of 2–4. The maximum age recorded was five years. Population declines were found to correlate with 1080 poison baiting programmes, but not with selective logging.

Aims and MethodPatients who self-poison are at increased risk of future self-poisoning and early death. Admission patterns and effective treatment strategies are unclear although psychosocial assessment may reduce readmissions. This study aimed to determine admission patterns and the proportion of patients receiving a psychiatric assessment in 4220 consecutive admissions.ResultsThe average age was 34 years (s.d.=13, range 13–94); most were female (56 v. 44%, P<50.001). Twelve per cent of patients were aged 13–18 years, again the majority were female (70 v. 30%, P<50.001). Twenty per cent of patients had multiple admissions, accounting for 42% of the total admissions. There were slightly more admissions per day at the weekend (Friday, Saturday and Sunday; P<0.002). As many as 245 patients were either not referred or ‘self-discharged’ before they were assessed by the liaison psychiatry service.Clinical ImplicationsThese findings may help target medical resources, suggesting that consistent numbers of staff are required during all days of the week.

Introduction: Neonicotinoids are a new type of insecticides that have been introduced to the poison market during the last three decades. Acetamiprid (ACT) is a neonicotinoid and widely used for controlling pests. It targets the liver as a toxic agent and damages hepatic tissues through oxidative stress mechanisms. Quercetin is a flavonoid with potent antioxidant and hepatoprotective activity and protects tissues from oxidative damages. Thus, this study is aimed to assess the protective effect of quercetin on acetamiprid-induced hepatotoxicity. Methods: Thirty-six Wistar rats were classified into six groups including control, DMSO, ACT 20, ACT 40, quercetin, and ACT40+quercetin. All treatments were administered orally with gavage for 28 days. Alanine amino transferase (ALT), aspartate amino transferase (AST), alkaline phosphatase (ALP) and lactate dehydrogenase (LDH) enzyme activity was measured in serum as biomarkers of hepatotoxicity. Lipid peroxidation, superoxide dismutase (SOD) enzyme activity and total thiol content were measured in hepatic tissues. Also, hepatic tissue sections were prepared and stained with hematoxylin and eosin and evaluated under optic microscope for any tissue injuries. Results: Findings showed that ACT, especially in high dose (40mg/kg), induced hepatic tissue destruction associated with increased hepatic enzyme activity, except ALP activity, in the serum. Besides, ACT increased the lipid peroxidation and decreased total thiol content and SOD activity, which indicates ACT-induced oxidative stress in hepatic tissues. Also, hepatic tissue injuries were observed in ACT-treated group. All these changes in liver were prevented by quercetin. Conclusion: Because of strong antioxidant properties, quercetin can cope effectively with ACT-induced hepatotoxicity.

Indonesia produces one million tons of garbage per day. The impact on health is to become a breeding ground for organisms that cause disease, poison animals and plants that are consumed by humans. Therefore, high public awareness is needed in the joint responsibility in waste management. This responsibility will be formed if each individual has the knowledge, attitude and motivation in waste management. The research aims to determine the effect of knowledge, attitudes and motivation on sorting and processing waste. The study was observational analytic with cross-sectional approach, which analyzed factors of knowledge, attitudes and motivations that influenced the behavior of household organic waste sorting and processing. The population in this study were all family heads in 05 residents of Podo Village, Kedungwuni District, Pekalongan Regency. The sampling technique uses cluster random sampling, with a large sample of 57 households. Data collection using questionnaires with interview techniques. Analysis of the data in this study using chi square with the level of significance used in this test was p-value <0.05 on 95% confidence interventions. The results of statistical analysis there is the influence of knowledge on the behavior of household heads in conducting the behavior of waste sorting, (p-value = -0.048; CI -0.228 s.d -0.449). The influence of attitudes and on the behavior of family heads in conducting the behavior of waste sorting (p-value = 0.002; CI -0.423 to 0.076). Influence of motivation and on the behavior of household heads in conducting waste sorting behavior (p-value = 0.027; CI-0313 s.d 0.050). But there is no influence of knowledge on the behavior of family heads in conducting the behavior of waste management, (p-value = 0.174; CI-0.006 to 0.174). The influence of attitudes on the behavior of family heads in conducting the behavior of waste management, (p-value = 0.034; CI-0.007 to 0.257). The influence of motivation on the behavior of the head of the family in conducting the behavior of garbage processing, (p-value = 0.034; CI -0.257 to 0.007). It was concluded that there is an influence of knowledge, attitude and motivation about sorting and processing of rubbish on the behavior of sorting and processing of household waste.

Colletotrichum fioriniae is a member of the large cosmopolitan C. acutatum species complex (2). Known agricultural hosts of C. acutatum include apple, European blueberry, grape, olive, papaya, and strawberry (2). In contrast, the life history of C. fioriniae ranges from an epizootic of certain scale insect populations to an endophyte of plants (3,4). The present study extends the phytopathology of C. fioriniae to include poison ivy seedlings. Poison ivy (Toxicodendron radicans) drupes were collected from solitary lianas in Roanoke and Montgomery counties, Virginia. These drupes were subjected to experiments aimed at producing sterile seedlings (1); however, there was extensive blighting and wilting in the germinated seedlings. Associated with the drupes and seedlings was a fungus with white to pale olivaceous grey mycelium with orange blister-like conidiomata and sclerotial masses enclosing the drupe mesocarp as well as conidiomata emerging from blighted, necrotic leaves. Condiomata were plated onto acidified potato dextrose agar (APDA) and oatmeal agar (OA). This consistently yielded colonies identical to those described from diseased tissues and were putatively identified as C. acutatum based on the presence of acervuli containing hyaline, smooth-walled, aseptate conidia with acute ends, the absence of setae, and formation of red pigments in culture (2). Conidial dimensions of four isolates most closely aligned with reported measurements for C. fioriniae (4): mean length ± SD × width ± SD = 15.1 ± 1.7 × 4.9 ± 0.3 μm, L/W ratio = 3.04 on OA. Fungal DNA was isolated and used as template in PCR reactions using oligonucleotide primer pairs corresponding to the internal transcribed spacer (ITS) region, and a portion of the glyceraldehyde-3-phosphate dehydrogenase (GAPDH) genes. The resulting PCR fragments were sequenced and used as queries in BLASTN searches of the GenBank NR database. All of the amplified ITS DNA sequences (497 bp KF944356 and KF944357) were identical to Glomerella/Colletotrichum fioriniae (JN121190 and KF278459). Similarly, the amplified (672 bp) GAPDH sequences (KF944354 and KF944355) were 99.6% similar over the 254 bp overlapping with C. fioriniae (JQ948622). Pathogenicity of two randomly chosen C. fioriniae isolates, TR-123 and TR-126, was confirmed by placing 4.75 mm diam. inoculated agar plugs from 8-day-old fungal cultures or a sterile plug (negative control) at the base of an axenic young seedling ~1.5 to 6.5 cm in height with at least one set of true leaves (1). Each treatment was replicated five times. Acute wilt and blighting of leaves and production of orange acervuli on cotyledons disease symptoms developed by 3 weeks post inoculation (WPI). By 7 WPI all but one of the Colletotrichum-inoculated plants were dead, whereas all of the control plants were healthy with significantly lower area under the disease progress curve values. Colletotrichum was consistently re-isolated, and confirmed morphologically and molecularly, from six of seven diseased seedlings, whereas two of two randomly chosen control seedlings remained asymptomatic and did not yield Colletotrichum. In summary, C. fioriniae may represent a natural biocontrol agent against poison ivy and scale insect herbivores thereof. References: (1) E. Benhase and J. Jelesko. HortScience 48:1, 2013. (2) U. Damm et al. Stud. Mycol. 73:37, 2012. (3) J. Marcelino et al. J. Insect Sci. 9:25, 2009. (4) R. Shivas et al. Fungal Divers. 39:111.

Cyanide is a mitochondrial poison, which is ubiquitously present in the environment. Cyanide-induced oxidative stress is known to play a key role in mediating the neurotoxicity and cell death in rat pheochromocytoma (PC12) cells. PC12 cells are widely used as a model for neurotoxicity assays in vitro. In the present study, we investigated the protective effects of alpha-ketoglutarate (A-KG), a potential cyanide antidote, and N-acetyl cysteine (NAC), an antioxidant against toxicity of cyanide in PC12 cells. Cells were treated with various concentrations (0.625—1.25 mM) of potassium cyanide (KCN) for 4 hours, in the presence or absence of simultaneous treatment of A-KG (0.5 mM) and NAC (0.25 mM). Cyanide caused marked decrease in the levels of cellular antioxidants like superoxide dismutase (SOD), catalase (CAT), glutathione peroxidase (GPx), and glutathione reductase (GR). Lipid peroxidation indicated by elevated levels of malondialdehyde (MDA) was found to be accompanied by decreased levels of reduced glutathione (GSH) and total antioxidant status (TAS) of the cells. Cyanide-treated cells showed notable increase in caspase-3 activity and induction of apoptotic type of cell death after 24 hours. A-KG and NAC alone were very effective in restoring the levels of GSH and TAS, but together they significantly resolved the effects of cyanide on antioxidant enzymes, MDA levels, and caspase-3 activity. The present study reveals that combination of A-KG and NAC has critical role in abbrogating the oxidative stress-mediated toxicity of cyanide in PC12 cells. The results suggest potential role of A-KG and NAC in cyanide antagonism.

Saline soil is a worldwide distributed resource that seriously harms plants’ growth and development. NaCl is the most widely distributed salt in saline soil. As a typical representative of halophytes, Tamarix ramosissima Lcdcb (T. ramosissima) is commonly grown in salinized soil, and halophytes have different abilities to retain more K+ under salt stress conditions. Halophytes can adapt to different salt environments by improving the scavenging activity of reactive oxygen species (ROS) by absorbing and transporting potassium (K+). In this study, electron microscope observation, hydrogen peroxide (H2O2) and malondialdehyde (MDA) contents determination, primary antioxidant enzyme activity determination and transcriptome sequencing analysis were carried out on the leaves of T. ramosissima under NaCl stress at 0 h, 48 h and 168 h. The results showed that H2O2 and MDA contents increased in the 200 mM NaCl + 10 mM KCl and 200 mM NaCl groups, but the content increased the most in the 200 mM NaCl group at 168 h. In addition, the leaves of T. ramosissima in the 200 mM NaCl + 10 mM KCl group had the most salt secretion, and its superoxide dismutase (SOD), peroxidase (POD) and catalase (CAT) activities were all higher than those of the 200 mM NaCl group and significantly higher than those of the control group. According to the results of transcriptome sequencing, it was found that the expression of 39 genes related to antioxidant enzyme activity changed significantly at the transcriptional level. Among them, 15 genes related to antioxidant enzyme activities were upregulated, and 24 genes related to antioxidant enzyme activities were downregulated in the leaves of T. ramosissima when exogenous potassium (K+) was applied under NaCl stress for 48 h; when exogenous potassium (K+) was used for 168 h under NaCl stress, 21 antioxidant enzyme activity-related genes were upregulated, and 18 antioxidant enzyme activity-related genes were downregulated in T. ramosissima leaves. Based on the changes of expression levels at different treatment times, 10 key candidates differentially expressed genes (DEGs) (Unigene0050462, Unigene0014843, Unigene0046159, Unigene0046160, Unigene0008032, Unigene0048033, Unigene0004890, Unigene0015109, Unigene0020552 and Unigene0048538) for antioxidant enzyme activities were further screened. They played an important role in applying exogenous potassium (K+) for 48 h and 168 h to the leaves of T. ramosissima in response to NaCl stress. Their expression levels were dominated by upregulation, which enhanced the activity of antioxidant enzymes, and helped T. ramosissima mitigate NaCl poison and resist NaCl stress. Particularly, Unigene0048538 in glutathione S-transferase (GST) activity had the largest log2 fold-change in the comparison groups of 200 mM NaCl-48 h vs. 200 mM NaCl + 10 mM KCl-48 h and 200 mM NaCl-168 h vs. 200 mM NaCl + 10 mM KCl-168 h. Its expression level was upregulated and played an important role in NaCl toxicity. At the same time, the results of the phylogenetic tree analysis showed that Unigene0048538 had the closest genetic distance to Prunus persica in the evolutionary relationship. In summary, with the increase of exogenous potassium (K+) application time under NaCl stress, T. ramosissima can resist high NaCl stress by enhancing antioxidant enzymes’ activity and maintaining the growth of T. ramosissima. Still, it is not enough to completely eliminate NaCl poison. This study provides a theoretical basis for the molecular mechanism of salt tolerance and K+ mitigation of NaCl poison by the representative halophyte T. ramosissima in response to NaCl stress.

Heavy metals are typical cumulative pollutants that can enter and poison the human body through the food chain. However, the molecular mechanism of heavy metal-induced oxidative stress is unclear. In this study, we characterize PvKelch-like-1 from P. vannamei and explore its antioxidant roles in immune regulation of crustaceans. PvKelch-like-1 full length contains 2107 nucleotides, consists of a 5′ untranslated region (UTR) of 79 bp, a 3′ UTR of 180 bp, and a ORF of 1848 encoded 615 amino acids, which contain a BTB, BACK and Kelch motif, putative molecular mass and isoelectric point were 69 KDa and 6.54. PvKelch-like-1 mRNA was ubiquitously expressed in all detected tissue of P. vannamei, and mRNA expression levels were significantly up-regulated from 6 to 24 h after cadmium stress and reached the highest level (3.2-fold) at 12 h in the hepatopancreas. Subcellular localization analysis revealed that PvKelch-like-1 was localized in the nucleus. Silencing PvKelch-like-1 significantly increased reactive oxygen species (ROS) (1.61-fold) production and DNA damage (1.32-fold) in the shrimp hemolymph, and significantly decreased total hemocyte counts (THC) (0.64-fold) at 6 h in hemolymph. Additionally, the antioxidant genes PvCAT (0.43-fold), PvMnSOD (0.72-fold), PvGST (0.31-fold) and PvGPx (0.59-fold) at 6 h were decreased significantly in PvKelch-like-1 silenced shrimp after cadmium stress. Overexpression of PvKelch-like-1 has the opposite results in enzyme activity. The SOD (2.44-fold) and CAT (2.19-fold) activities were significantly increased after overexpressing PvKelch-like-1. These results suggest that PvKelch-like-1 plays a vital role in shrimp innate immune defense by positively regulating the expression of antioxidant enzyme genes to respond to cadmium stress.

Several cases of poisoning resulting in human fatalities and stemming from the ingestion of coral reef crabs have been reported from the Indo-Pacific region. We assessed the toxicity of the unidentified xanthid crab collected from the Camotes Sea off the eastern coast of Cebu Island, central Visayas region of Philippines from the food hygienic point of view. All seven specimens, which were identified withDemania cultripes, collected in 2006 were toxic to mice irrespective of the season of collection and induced paralytic symptoms typical of tetrodotoxin (TTX) and paralytic shellfish poison (PSP). The activity was expressed in mouse unit (MU) being defined as the amount of TTX to kill a 20 g ddY male mice in 30 min afteri.p.injection. Toxicity scores for viscera and appendages of specimens were18.2±16.0(mean ± S.D.) and4.4±2.6 MU/g, respectively. The highest individual toxicity scores observed for viscera and appendages were 52.1 and 7.7 MU/g, respectively. The frequency of toxic samples was 100%. Toxin profiles as determined by high-performance liquid chromatography-fluorescent detection analysis (HPLC-FLD) revealed that TTX was the main toxic principle accounting for about 90% of the total toxicity along with 4-epiTTX and 4,9-anhydroTTX. Furthermore, gas chromatography-mass spectrometry (GC-MS) analysis revealed mass fragment ion peaks atm/z376, 392 and 407, which were characteristic of the quinazoline skeleton (C9-base) specific to TTX. In addition, only a small amount of PSP containing gonyautoxins1–4 and hydroxysaxitoxin was detected. To our knowledge, this is the first report presenting evidence of occurrence of TTX and PSP in the xanthid crabD. cultripesinhabiting waters surrounding Cebu Island. From food hygienic point of view, people in coastal areas should be warned of the potential hazard of this crab in order to prevent its intentional or accidental consumption.

AbstrakSaat ini jumlah perokok, terutama perokok remaja terus bertambah, khususnya di negara-negara berkembang. Keadaan ini merupakan tantangan berat bagi upaya peningkatan derajat kesehatan masyarakat.Setiap kali menghisap asap rokok, apakah sengaja atau tidak, berarti juga mengisap lebih dari 4000 bahan kimia dan 200 diantaranya beracun, diantaranya nikotin, gas CO dan tar.Karbon monoksida (CO) menimbulkan desaturasi hemoglobin, menurunkan langsung persediaan oksigen untuk jaringan seluruh tubuh termasuk miokard. Fakta menyatakan bahwa perokok bernafas pada 250 ml CO dari setiap bungkus rokok. CO mengurangi kemampuan eritrosit untuk membawa oksigen dan tubuh mengkompensasi hal ini dengan memproduksi lebih banyak eritrosit. Dengan demikian, CO meningkatkan viskositas darah, sehingga mempermudah penggumpalan darah.Tujuan dari penelitian ini untuk mengetahui hubungan jumlah dan lamanya merokok dengan viskositas darah. Penelitian ini menggunakan metode studi deskriptif analitik, dengan menggunakan desain penelitian Cross Sectional Study. Penelitian ini terdiri dari 30 orang laki-laki perokok dengan umur berkisar 16-40 tahun. Kadar viskositas darah ditentukan dengan menggunakan alat Viskosimeter Oswald.Data dianalisis dengan menggunakan SPSS dan hasil analisis statistik dinyatakan bermakna bila didapatkan harga p < 0,05.Hasil dari penelitian menunjukkan tidak terdapat peningkatan viskositas darah laki-laki perokok dari viskositas darah normal (viskositas darah normal 3-4 kali viskositas air) rerata 1,64150 cP ± 0,184573 (viskositas air 0,6947cP). Terdapat korelasi positif antara jumlah rokok yang dihisap setiap hari dengan viskositas darah ( r = 0,228 dan p > 0,05). Terdapat korelasi positif antara lamanya merokok dengan viskositas darah (r = 0,318 dan p > 0,05).Hasil dari penelitian ini dapat disimpulkan bahwa terdapat hubungan antara jumlah rokok yang dihisap setiap hari dan lamanya merokok dengan viskositas darah.Kata kunci : Viskositas Darah, PerokokARTIKEL PENELITIAN138AbstractRecently number of smoker, especially young smoker increasingly increase, especially in the developing countries. This condition is heavy challenge to exert incrasing the public health degree.Every smoke, both intentionally or not, it also means suck more 4000 chemical matters and 200 have poison, include nicotine, CO and tar.Carbon monoxide (CO) result hemoglobin desaturation, direct decrease oxygen store for tissue in body included myocard. In fact suggest that the smokers breath on 250 ml CO from a pack of cigarette. CO reduce erythrocyte capability to carry oxygen and the body compensate it with producing more erythrocyte. Thus, CO increase blood viscosity, so that facilitate blood clotting.The aim to this study is to know association of number and duration of smoke with blood viscosity. This study using analytic descriptive study method, with using Cross Sectional Stud design. This study include 30 somker men with 16-40 years ages. The blood viscosity level is defined with Oswald’s viscosimeter.Data is analyzed using SPSS and its statistical analyses result is significant with p <0,05.Result indicate that there are not increasing blood viscosity of smoker men form normal blood viscosity (normal blood viscosity is 3-4 water viscosity) with mean 1,64150 cP ± 0,184573 (water viscosity = 0,6947 cP). There are positive correlation between number of cigarette smoked everyday with blood viscosity (r = 0,228 and p >0,05). There are positive correlation between duration of smoke and blood viscosity (r = 0,318 and p >0,05).The result of this study can be concluded that there are association between number cigarette smoked everyday and duration of smoke with blood viscosity.Key word : Blood viscosity, smoker.

Petar Konjovic (Curug, May 5, 1883 - Belgrade, October 1, 1970) stands out among Serbian composers as an author of instrumental and vocal compositions. Studies at the Prague Conservatory (1904-1906) acquainted Konjovic with Czech music, Wagner's opus, and the Russian national-romantic school, which contributed to the evolution of his talent for both music and stage, enabling him to express his ideas more explicitly in operatic works. It was in the Prague that the second opera - Prince of Zeta - was conceived, with new musical vividness and dramatic appeal (first version composed 1906-1926, the second and final 1929-1939), followed by Kostana (1928), Peasants (1951) and Fatherland (1960). Konjovic's mature operas are characterized by his masterful handling of form, both in close-ups and in detail, as well as his deeply individual assimilation of musical folklore into his work. The Prince of Zeta is not to be understood as a folk opera, but some main themes are directly derived from folk music, precisely from the Montenegrin folk songs quoted in the Mokranjac's Ninth Garland and treated in Konjovic's post-romantic, almost expressionistic way, interwoven with some Italianate leitmotifs, so as to present the opera's two worlds, Montenegrin and Venetian. In the process of forming Konjovic's operatic style, with vocal parts based mainly on the principle of declamation, the opera Prince of Zeta (first performed in Belgrade, 1929, conducted by Lovro von Matacic) proved to be a work of great impact. Hardly anyone grasped then the wide sweep of inspiration which allowed the composer to set and to solve several important problems connected with music drama, essential also in his subsequent stage works. First of all, Konjovic had to handle in his own way the verbal drama the prototype of his opera, Maxim Crnojevic by the Serbian poet Laza Kostic (1841-1910). Permission came from the playwright in the first decade of the 1900, Prince of Zeta being partly set musically, but from then on with new interventions in the poet's text. Being a highly skilled writer, poet musicologist and essayist (he wrote four books and a great number of articles on music and the theatre, and translated opera librettos of Wagner and Moussorgsky), Konjovic felt free to introduce some daring alterations to the literary works he used for his music dramas. So it was with the play Maxim Crnojevic, premiered in Novi Sad in 1870 (printed in the same place in 1846 and 1866). On the other hand, the young poet Kostic (he was in his early twenties when he wrote Maxim Crnojevic) had the prototype for his play in the folkpoem The Marriage of Maxim Crnojevic, turning a naturalistic folk-story into a Hellenic-Shakespearian drama of friendship and love, full of chivalrous deeds and emotions. The once handsome Maxim, his face ruined by heavy disease, can no longer make his marriage with the doge's daughter Angelica (with whom he was already acquainted). The nobles of Montenegro particularly Ivo Crnojevic, who in the meanwhile, proud of his son, boasted in Venice, conspire a doublecrossing plot (with another man, Milos resembling Maxim as bridegroom) which works in the folk-poem, in some ways in drama, but not in the opera, with the story changed by Konjovic. The difference between drama and folk poetry is essential: in Montenegro Maxim murders Milos for the doge's daughter's dowry, on their way back. In the play, too, the tragic event takes place in Montenegro: on the way home Maxim kills Milos, thinking Milos is going to keep the beautiful Angelica for himself (the agreement was that he will hand over the bride to Maxim immediately after the wedding in Venice), then commits suicide realizing his fatal mistake. The girl, deeply disappointed leaves Montenegro. In the opera Maxim reveals the truth to Angelica in Venice, before she is to be wedded with Milos, and stabs himself. She chooses death also, drinking poison - a dramatically and musically very capturing finale in the style of Romeo and Juliet! In some recently performed versions of the opera (1989) the director (Dejan Miladinovic) and conductor (Oskar Danon) returned to the playwright's original denouement, avoiding the Shakespearian end of Konjovic (although in the spirit of Kostic who was also appreciated as a skillful translator of Shakespeare into Serbian language). In the opera Prince of Zeta Konjovic focuses on Ivo Crnojevic, making his role dominant to that of Maxim. The unhappy father, the tragic Hellenic figure, is with his son Maxim the main historical personality in both opera and drama. Zeta forms part of present-day Montenegro but was independent for a short period, then came under Byzantium, and eventually Rashka-Serbia. After the fall of last remnants of the Serbian vassal state in 1439, Zeta was partly independent protected by Venetians under the ruler Ivo Crnojevic, before the Turks grasped Montenegro. Serbian drama, which is usually trochaic, took an iambic course in Kostic's play. The composer preserved the poet's iambs, following the musically accented flexions of spoken language, which remains the main feature of his style. The impressive vocal parts, especially those of Ivo Crnojevic, starting from the Prologue and the first act, are supported by the dynamic and highly symphonized orchestra. For effective choral music the monks' ensemble in the second act (in the final version) and the dramatic Venetian carnival scene with the stylized Montenegrin folk-dances should be noted in both versions. With Prince of Zeta the author definitely made a distinguished name as a composer in Serbian culture, with a strong influence on younger generations of Serbian musicians.

Le système hydrogéologique de la partie sud du marais Poitevin est très peu connu. Cette étude vise à définir les caractéristiques sédimentologiques ou physiques des sédiments du quaternaire en vue d’acquérir des connaissances sur le système hydrogéologique pour une gestion durable. Pour cela, la cartographie par krigeage de l’épaisseur des formations quaternaires, la granulométrie laser et la description minéralogique par diffractomètre des rayons X ont été utilisées. En général, les épaisseurs des formations quaternaires varient de 0 à plus de 20 m avec des épaisseurs plus importantes au Nord et au Nord-Ouest de la zone d’étude. Ces épaisseurs varient de façon spécifique de 20 à 54 m au niveau de Saint Hilaire la Palud. En se déplaçant de l’Ouest vers l'Est, la granulométrie est plus grossière au Sud et plus fine au Nord contrairement à la bordure Est où, cette tendance est inversée. Les faciès rencontrés sont des limons généralement plus fins en surface qu’en profondeur avec ou sans présence de coquillages, passant latéralement à des sables ou à des débris calcaires. Les sédiments de surface ont une faible perméabilité (de 10-7 à 10-6 m.s-1) par rapport à ceux rencontrés en profondeur avec, des valeurs de perméabilité pouvant atteindre 10-4 m.s-1. Cette perméabilité est plus élevée sur la bordure sud que sur la bordure nord de la zone d'étude. Le cortège minéralogique est dominé par les minéraux quartzo-feldspathiques en surface, et de fortes variations des teneurs en minéraux carbonatés en profondeur. Les formations quaternaires mettent en évidence la "nappe du Bri" (en surface) et des "pseudo-nappes" (en profondeur), identifiées comme étant moins productives au plan hydrogéologique. L'ensemble de ces formations quaternaires repose sur le substratum carbonaté Jurassique.

Background: As the poisoning is becoming a threat to rural India, it is necessary to increase the survival time to avail the primary treatment. For the treatment of poisoning, Agada is described in Ayurveda as an antidote. Agada is a polyherbal or herbomineral formulation constituted with combination antitoxic drugs along with some antioxidant, immunomodulator or hepatoprotective drugs. But they need to be revalidated for their efficacy and safety on the basis of contemporary assessment parameters Aim: Evaluation of antidotal property of Mritasanjivana Agada in poisoning. Objectives: To increase the survival time after the administration of Mritasanjivana Agada in snake venom and aluminium phosphide poisoning in albino mice. To compare the efficacy of Mritasanjivana Agada and Anti-snake venom as an antidote. To standardize the Mritasanjivana Agada. Methodology: Mritasanjeevana Agada will be prepared and standardized. Cobra venom poisoning and aluminium phosphide poisoning have been selected as the representative for the animate poison and artificial/ synthetic poison. After inducing poisoning in mice, one group will receive its standard antidote and other will receive standard antidote with Mritasanjivana Agada. The third group will receive only Mritasanjivana Agada without its standard antidote. All the groups will be assessed on the basis of hematology, biochemistry, Superoxide dismutase (SOD) level, Malondialdehyde (MDA) level and histopathology in case of death of the animals. Results: Mritasanjeevana agada is expected to increase the survival time in the treatment of snake venom and aluminium phosphide poisoning in albino mice. Conclusion: Mritasanjeevana agada may be as efficacious as Anti-snake venom as an antidote.

Introduction: Poisoning is a critical worldwide problem, having been reported in countries across the continent [1]. A significant number of emergency room visits are due to poisonings and drug overdose. Poisonings is a major cause of the increase in morbidity and mortality [2] of adults. Ingestion of different poisons can intentional or accidental. Poisoning can occur following ingestion, inhalational, or sometimes snuffing of drugs. Regardless of the method of poisoning , it usually leads to catastrophic outcomes. Study population:Any patient aged more than 15 years, who presented to the Emergency Department (ED) of King Saud Medical City (KSMC). Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, with a drug overdose, chemical ingestion/inhalation,poisoning or alcohol intoxication was recruited for this study. Methods: A study of all the patients that presented to our hospital from the period of January 2020 until September, 2020 was recruited for this horizontal study. Initial data was collected manually. An online Excel sheet was created, and the following parameters were collected; age, gender, and nationality, information regarding the ingested/inhaled substance, patients’ signs, and symptoms upon presentation to the Emergency room, and various laboratory tests.Patients were followed till they were in the hospital and finally disposed. Statistical analysis was then performed on the collected data. Results:Most of the patients (65.7%) were males. (69.4 %) were Saudi nationals with a mean age of 33-years. The most common presenting symptom is decreased level of consciousness (35 cases). Paracetamol overdose accounted for 12% of the cases, alcohol accounted for 10.2%. More than 50% of our patients had mixed drug poisoning or unidentifiable poison. The maximum reading for blood pressure was 221/149 mmHg among the benzodiazepine overdose group. The respiratory rate was within the normal limit in all patients.Mortaliyu was below 1%. Conclusion: Drug overdose is a common cause of emergency room visits and hospital admission. Paracetamol was the commonest cause of identifiable drug overdose, followed by Alcohol ingestion. But mixed poisoning involving mutiple drugs were quite common these days. Outcome was generally good with just less than 1% mortality.

AbstractThe concentration of wealth is a key component of the rise in economic inequality at the beginning of the twenty-first century. While the abolition of taxes on private wealth during the 1990s and 2000s is recognized as an important institutional driver behind this development, comparatively little is known about the justification of tax cuts for the wealthy in advanced democracies. This paper investigates how the abolishment of the personal net wealth tax in Germany, a country with high levels of wealth inequality, has been debated and justified in parliament over a period of 20 years. Using a mixed methods approach that combines computational social science methods and a qualitative analysis, we examine how Germany’s two major parties, the Christian Democrats (CDU) and the Social Democrats (SPD), have variously construed the meaning and purpose of the wealth tax and justified their support for or opposition to it. While the Social Democrats debate the wealth tax primarily from a social justice perspective, the Christian Democrats rely on an efficiency frame that invokes biological metaphors, enabling them to narrate the wealth tax as a threat to the social body. Paradoxically, then, by arguing that the tax is “poison to the economy”, conservative discourse succeeds in linking opposition to the wealth tax to a principle of social unity. On these grounds, we suggest that future research should scrutinize how the interrelation between political discourse and institutional architectures has facilitated the rise of wealth inequality in recent decades.

Large bodies of evidence link alcohol consumption and substance use disorders (SUDs) with motor vehicle collisions, as well as life-threatening intentional injury. According to the substance use and mental health estimates from the 2013 National Survey on Drug Use and Health, 24.6 million individuals age 12 or older were current illicit drug users in 2013, including 2.2 million adolescents age 12 to 17, and 60.1 million individuals age 12 or older were binge drinkers in the past month. Many people with SUDs become patients; therefore, the surgeon must be able to recognize and manage many of the related issues that can ensue. This review details the definition of SUDs, basic principles of toxicology, acute management of the patient with suspected substance use intoxication or withdrawal, managing life-threatening syndromes in patients with SUDs, overdose and withdrawal syndromes of opioids, stimulants, and depressants, surgical complications of SUDs, perioperative and postoperative considerations in patients with SUDs, and consultation and referral to a toxicologist and poison control center. Figures show first- and zero-order kinetics; pupillary examination, laboratory and radiographic findings in SUDs; polymorphic ventricular tachycardia; consciousness as an interplay between arousal and awareness, an algorithm for the management of seizures, sine, mechanism of cocaine’s cardiac toxicity and hemorrhagic stroke in a cocaine abuser, necrotizing soft tissue infection, digit necrosis associated with intra-arterial injection of cocaine, scars from skin popping, nonocclusive thrombus in the left internal jugular vein, needle fracture with soft tissue dislodgment, oral contrast-enhanced computed tomographic scan showing rounded foreign bodies in the stomach, and fecal impaction associated with heroin. Tables list criteria for substance use disorders according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-V), frequently misused drugs, causes of death in SUD, cardiac, neurologic, and metabolic signs and symptoms caused by commonly abused substances , anion and osmolar gap equations, life-threatening manifestations of cocaine toxicity, and alcohol-related disorders. This review contains 15 figures, 8 tables, and 85 references.

Large bodies of evidence link alcohol consumption and substance use disorders (SUDs) with motor vehicle collisions, as well as life-threatening intentional injury. According to the substance use and mental health estimates from the 2013 National Survey on Drug Use and Health, 24.6 million individuals age 12 or older were current illicit drug users in 2013, including 2.2 million adolescents age 12 to 17, and 60.1 million individuals age 12 or older were binge drinkers in the past month. Many people with SUDs become patients; therefore, the surgeon must be able to recognize and manage many of the related issues that can ensue. This review details the definition of SUDs, basic principles of toxicology, acute management of the patient with suspected substance use intoxication or withdrawal, managing life-threatening syndromes in patients with SUDs, overdose and withdrawal syndromes of opioids, stimulants, and depressants, surgical complications of SUDs, perioperative and postoperative considerations in patients with SUDs, and consultation and referral to a toxicologist and poison control center. Figures show first- and zero-order kinetics; pupillary examination, laboratory and radiographic findings in SUDs; polymorphic ventricular tachycardia; consciousness as an interplay between arousal and awareness, an algorithm for the management of seizures, sine, mechanism of cocaine’s cardiac toxicity and hemorrhagic stroke in a cocaine abuser, necrotizing soft tissue infection, digit necrosis associated with intra-arterial injection of cocaine, scars from skin popping, nonocclusive thrombus in the left internal jugular vein, needle fracture with soft tissue dislodgment, oral contrast-enhanced computed tomographic scan showing rounded foreign bodies in the stomach, and fecal impaction associated with heroin. Tables list criteria for substance use disorders according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-V), frequently misused drugs, causes of death in SUD, cardiac, neurologic, and metabolic signs and symptoms caused by commonly abused substances , anion and osmolar gap equations, life-threatening manifestations of cocaine toxicity, and alcohol-related disorders. This review contains 15 figures, 7 tables, and 85 references.

Percy was a put upon pig. Everywhere he went, others pointed and stared. It was never Percy’s intention to be the focus of gossip and innuendo, but it seemed that from the moment he was born, other animals were destined to imbue him with all sorts of various—and often competing—meanings. Percy had asked for none of it. He thought of life as a rather simple affair. What made it complex and often baffling had more to do with what his farmyard friends projected onto him rather than anything that Percy would describe as pig related. As such, Percy had decided early on in life, that he would have no truck with superstition of any kind. The horses would grimace as he walked by; the cows would shake their heads and smile as if … well, Percy could never work out what the ‘as if’ stood in for. It obviously, though, had something to do with long, long ago. Recently, Percy had begun thinking about leaving the farm. This was not a decision to be taken lightly; in fact, it required a great deal of thought and careful planning: mulling over possible outcomes, unforeseen dangers and bends in the road. All clichés of course, but so many elements of any journey are. It was in the setting off, Percy reasoned, that the clichéd nature of any journey ended, and the individual narrative began. Percy’s one friend in the farmyard was Ian the carpet snake, and like Percy, he was unpopular with the other animals. Ian was something of a philosopher and Percy enjoyed their occasional conversations, particularly when things were going poorly for him with the other animals. Which was generally often and generally for reasons that had to do with ancient history rather than any particular matter at hand. “I think that it’s my body that’s the problem”, Percy sighed to Ian as he trotted into the barn. Ian was never quick to respond, reluctant as he was to withdraw from whatever band of sunlight he had managed to slither into. “And what problem is that little pig”, Ian demurred, unable to open his eyes just yet. “Oh well, the same problem as ever I expect”, Percy replied, obviously troubled by his relationships with the other animals in the farmyard. “They’ve been at it again have they?” Ian asked. “The thing is they’re never not at it”, Percy said grumpily. “And I’m sick of trying to work out why it is that everyone has such problems with me”. “Perhaps if you weren’t the only pig in the farmyard …” “But that’s just it, I am the only pig in the farmyard and it’s becoming intolerable. I have no understanding as to why, for the horses, I am an utter disgrace: to the cows, I’m something to pity; the birds see me as an object of ridicule and the chickens … are so arrogant toward me. Chickens! For goodness sake!” “And how is all this related to your body?” Ian asked. “Well,” Percy began, “I can’t help but think I’m somehow flawed. It’s as if my body is a joke of some kind. And it’s a joke that everyone else seems to understand but me. And no one, and I do mean no one, is prepared to tell me the joke to my face. If only I could understand why they feel so strongly about my very presence I might be able to argue my case, assure them that I am somehow different to the pigs they have in their minds”. “Mmm”, Ian muttered as he slithered into a coil and out of his sunlight. This was always the moment of commitment with Ian; the moment that signified a conversation was becoming interesting to the point where he might be encouraged to say something deep and wise; profound even. “Well, they do have a point, Percy”, Ian said. “You are enormously fat, your legs are very short, and your tail curls in disgrace at the size of your behind”. “But that’s just who I am”, squealed Percy in despair. “I can’t help the form my body takes”. Percy was close to tears, his frustration beginning to overwhelm him. “Do not cry or I will not talk to you”, Ian demanded, suddenly forceful. “Oh not you too. Can’t you see I’m distressed? My body”, Percy began, “is constantly hungry. It gives me no relief and my legs … can’t you see they have to be this way in order to support my frame? Being short means my legs are very powerful, they can move me about at more than a fair clip. It’s not right that the horses belittle me. It’s as if all the other animals think I’ve somehow asked to be born this way. As if … no one can see my good points”. “And tell me, Percy”, Ian asked kindly, “what are your good points?” “Well”, Percy replied, “I’m not fussy. I’m very pragmatic. I’m not a dreamer like the cows, or vain like the horses. Nor am I unable to commit like the birds. I have a great capacity to enlighten others as to the possibilities of pleasure and”, Percy continued, a little less sure, “I am loyal and kind”. “Mmm”, Ian demurred once more, “and yet the others are still unkind to you”. “The grasshoppers say that it’s a hangover from the dark ages; that no one actually remembers why it is they should hate me … it’s just that everyone’s sure that is what they’re supposed to do”. “Perhaps,” began Ian, “If you ate a little less?” “But you don’t understand either”, Percy cried. “You’re meant to be my friend, Ian. My one and only friend and yet you criticise me just like they do. As if … as if, my very pig-ness offends you”. “Well I do know how you feel if that is any consolation, Percy. Trust me when I say that my fan club are not people you want to hang out with. Honestly, snake lovers are troubled folk. They simple don’t understand a snake’s desire to be left alone”. “Well I don’t want to be left alone. I want to belong!” shouted Percy. So loud did Percy shout, that the horses standing outside the barn overheard him. And the idea of Percy wanting to belong made them laugh and neigh so loudly that the noise threatened to bring the humans over. Which was never a good idea. Except at feeding time. “Oh, Percy”, Ian sighed, as the horses cantered off shaking their manes in the breeze. “You can’t escape your identity. You think I want to be a carpet snake? Well, I don’t. I want to be an eagle. I’d do anything to be an eagle but that’s just not going to happen. One has to accept ones fate. And unfortunately for you, what being a pig means in this particular moment, is … well”, Ian said rationally, “rather a sad thing. But I will say this, being a pig is better than being a rat. Rats are foul and nasty creatures and you will not find anyone to disagree”. “Except perhaps a rat”, Percy exclaimed. “Oh, they know what foul creatures they are alright”, Ian corrected Percy. “But only because everyone thinks poorly of them”, Percy implored. “Such reasons exist for good … reason”, Ian stated. “Well I’m sure that the reason there are so many rats is because they know they have to stick together. They know the world is against them through no fault of their own”. “For goodness sake, Percy … our identities are put upon us all. Depending upon who our parents are, what time and place we are born into. Tell me this … if you were born a hundred years ago in a different country, do you think you would be the same pig? Do you think you would even speak the same language?” “Well … I don’t know. I’m sure I would have the same pig qualities”. “Indeed. But those qualities belong to your body, to your pig-ness rather than to who Percy is”. “But who Percy is … is constantly put-upon. Constantly manufactured by the other animals. It’s as if my fate was already decided when I was born; as if, just being born a pig was somehow wrong; somehow a disgraceful, offensive thing”. “Exactly”, Ian agreed enthusiastically. “Well, it’s not logical. It’s offensive and cruel”, Percy replied, suddenly agitated. “No one … not one single other animal has ever thought to address me as Percy. They simply see me as a pig. And the absolute worst thing about that is, being a pig, is somehow a dreadful thing for each and every other animal in the farmyard. No one thinks highly of pigs. Not even the dreadful fox who despite his cruel nature would never think to eat pork”. “Well … I’m sure if you lost a little weight’, Ian suggested. “Oh, you’re no help at all”, Percy exclaimed, suddenly angry. “Well I’m not going to take it anymore. I’m going to find a place where I belong. A place where other pigs like me have opportunities and the chance …”, Percy broke off, his courage suddenly deserting him. “The chance for what?” Ian enquired rather cynically. “It doesn’t matter”, Percy replied. “Oh, I think it does” Ian added. “You do, after all, need to know the reason for setting off”. “The reason I’m setting off is because I’m tired of being the only pig; the only animal in the barn who is put-upon is such vicious ways. Why have such dreadful meanings attached themselves to my pig-ness? It’s not fair. I want the chance”, Percy continued. “I want the chance to like my pig-ness, to celebrate my short, fat body and curly tail. I want to find a place where what it means to be a pig is normal rather than something obscure or somehow something to be ridiculed”. “Mmm”, Ian muttered once more as he stretched his long body into the fading band of light. “Good luck and God speed little pig”. “And I’m not a little pig!” Percy exclaimed as he trotted away from Ian, into the reassuring squalor of his pen. Later that night, after all the other animals had fallen asleep, Percy gently opened the latch that kept the gate of his pen closed, walked to the open door of the barn, then disappeared into the bright and starry night. The next morning there was much commotion in the barnyard. The farmer, upon realising that Percy had disappeared, mounted a short though thorough search of the farm. All the other animals were surprised by the farmer’s obvious concern for Percy. It was a concern that the other animals did not share. “Good thing, too”, said the horses amongst each other. “Dreadful little animal”, said the cows. “The neighbourhood is so much cleaner already”, tweetered the birds. “And less smelly”, chimed in the chickens. “Good riddance”, agreed Ian the carpet snack, who was keen to use the occasion to ingratiate himself with the other animals. “You know …” said the oldest and wisest of the cows. “To be born a pig is a punishment from the Gods”. “Yes I know”, said the horse standing next to the cow. “That pig must have killed someone in a past life”. “Yes”, replied the cow, “I never did like the way he tried to be so friendly when he was obviously such a foul creature”. “His very pig-ness disgusted me”, agreed Ian. “Still …”, replied the old cow somewhat suspiciously to Ian. “You did talk with him from time to time”. “It wasn’t that I liked talking to the pig”, corrected Ian. “The pig would simply trot over to where I was … on those dreadful, stumpy, trotting legs and talk and talk and talk. Last time he did so I was asleep; I didn’t wake up until he’d uttered his last sentence”. “You were giggling like a couple of school children yesterday”, corrected the horse. “It wasn’t me…”, Ian replied, attempting to correct the impression that Percy and he were somehow friends. “If you really want to know what happened to the pig last night … I ate him”. The other animals were suddenly dumbfounded. “Liar”, said the old cow. “Yes, liar”, agreed the horse. “It’s not a lie. I always hated that pig and last night …. When everyone else was asleep, I ate the pig”, Ian lied. “You’re a liar, snake. I saw the pig leave early this morning. He opened the latch on the gate to his pen and walked out the barn door without so much as a backwards glance”. Ian looked around at the other animals. Then he slithered away. “That damn snake is just as bad as the pig”, snorted horse. “Worse”, suggested the wise old cow. “You know snakes are compelled to live their lives so close to the ground because the Gods cut off all their legs after one of them lied about what he was capable of”. “Sounds just like that horrible carpet snake”, sneered chicken. “And carpet snakes are called carpet snakes because they came from that dreadful country over the hill that makes the rugs that humans love so much”. “Dreadful, dreadful, slithering snake”, hissed the blackest of the horses. Percy trotted merrily in the bright morning sun, just off to the side of the dirt road. He found that constantly travelling suited him. The whole idea of living in a pen was actually not something he ever wanted to return to. In fact, despite his initial fears when he set off the night before, Percy decided there was very little he liked about his past life. Now that he had his freedom he was determined to keep it; treasure it like the most precious of things. All the animals had decided at a hastily convened meeting that Ian the carpet snake had to be disposed of. Everyone agreed that the farm would be a much friendlier place without both the pig and the snake. “This is our one chance”, horse said very slowly and seriously. “If we don’t grasp it now, we will be forever condemned to share our farm with creatures who none of us like”. “It is a rare opportunity”, mused the cow. “Well it simply has to happen”, said the chicken haughtily. “What we need”, suggested the horse. “Is a plan”. “Yes”, agreed the cow. “Well I already have a plan”, said the bird from up in the tree. “And what’s that?” asked the horse. “Well, because the snake always eats all the mice before any of us birds have a chance to indulge, our plan is to poison a mice and then … just before it dies, place it near the carpet snake so he eats it and in so doing, poisons himself”. The other animals all looked up at the two birds on the branch above their heads. “You’ve really thought about this”, horse said. “Well, of course we have”, fumed the other bird. “Why just yesterday I was swooping down on a little mouse and just as I reached out to grab it in my claws, that evil snake swooped from nowhere and swallowed it whole”. “The snake is very greedy”, mused the cow. “Yes. Nobody likes the snake. Am I right?” asked the horse. “Hear, hear”, everyone agreed. “Right. Put your plan into action then birds and let’s all meet back here in an hour”, commanded the horse. “Good luck”, called the chickens after the birds. Percy couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d heard the noise in the distance as he trotted along in the sun, and then, from out of nowhere, a truck had turned a corner on the winding dirt road and driven straight past him. On board the truck was layer upon layer of pigs; what seemed to Percy like millions of pigs. A whole high-rise city of moving pigs, all squealing and talking in a language that was unfamiliar to him. And as the truck that was filled with pigs rolled past Percy, all he could do was follow it with his eyes. Suddenly Percy was overcome with a sense that his destiny lay onboard that truck; that if only he could manage to get inside the city of moving pigs then he would finally feel that he had found somewhere he could belong. Percy set off at a furious pace, running as fast as he could after the truck. As he got closer and closer, he realised that all the pigs were calling out to him. They seemed to be cheering him on, excited … no, desperate for him to succeed. Percy thought that if he could just run up alongside the driver’s window and somehow get his attention—perhaps by squealing very, very loudly—that the driver would stop the truck and ... The city of pigs continued to squeal desperately at Percy as he raced past their many faces. And Percy squealed back as best he could, desperate to get to the front of the truck and draw the driver’s attention. The truck suddenly slowed to negotiate a bump in the dirt road and Percy found himself in front off the cab. He turned back to face the slowly rolling wheels of the truck and squealed at the top of his voice. The truck’s air brakes hissed noisily and then the whole countryside went quiet for a beat. Percy was breathing very heavily; his face was deep red as he looked desperately up at the windscreen of the cab. Both doors of the truck opened at once and the driver and his passenger hopped to the ground. “Never seen that before”, said the passenger to the driver. “No. Wonder where he came from?” asked the driver. “I think he wants to get on board”, suggested the passenger. Then both the men laughed as they whistled to Percy and slapped at their legs, encouraging the pig to join them at the back of the truck. All the other pigs suddenly squealed as one, desperate to get Percy’s attention. Percy had never heard such a noise; it was both completely familiar though unintelligible. The other pigs seemed somehow overwhelmed by his presence … as if, they’d never seen a pig quite like Percy before. And Percy, as he trotted up the ramp of the truck into the comforting squalor of a million other pigs, squealed happily back at them, finally knowing what it felt like to belong.

Biology teaches us that organisms adapt—or don’t; sociology claims that people adapt—or don’t. We know that ideas can adapt; sometimes even institutions can adapt. Or not. Various papers in this issue attest in exciting ways to precisely such adaptations and maladaptations. (See, for example, the articles in this issue by Lelia Green, Leesa Bonniface, and Tami McMahon, by Lexey A. Bartlett, and by Debra Ferreday.) Adaptation is a part of nature and culture, but it’s the latter alone that interests me here. (However, see the article by Hutcheon and Bortolotti for a discussion of nature and culture together.) It’s no news to anyone that not only adaptations, but all art is bred of other art, though sometimes artists seem to get carried away. My favourite example of excess of association or attribution can be found in the acknowledgements page to a verse drama called Beatrice Chancy by the self-defined “maximalist” (not minimalist) poet, novelist, librettist, and critic, George Elliot Clarke. His selected list of the incarnations of the story of Beatrice Cenci, a sixteenth-century Italian noblewoman put to death for the murder of her father, includes dramas, romances, chronicles, screenplays, parodies, sculptures, photographs, and operas: dramas by Vincenzo Pieracci (1816), Percy Bysshe Shelley (1819), Juliusz Slowacki (1843), Waldter Landor (1851), Antonin Artaud (1935) and Alberto Moravia (1958); the romances by Francesco Guerrazi (1854), Henri Pierangeli (1933), Philip Lindsay (1940), Frederic Prokosch (1955) and Susanne Kircher (1976); the chronicles by Stendhal (1839), Mary Shelley (1839), Alexandre Dumas, père (1939-40), Robert Browning (1864), Charles Swinburne (1883), Corrado Ricci (1923), Sir Lionel Cust (1929), Kurt Pfister (1946) and Irene Mitchell (1991); the film/screenplay by Bertrand Tavernier and Colo O’Hagan (1988); the parody by Kathy Acker (1993); the sculpture by Harriet Hosmer (1857); the photograph by Julia Ward Cameron (1866); and the operas by Guido Pannain (1942), Berthold Goldschmidt (1951, 1995) and Havergal Brian (1962). (Beatrice Chancy, 152) He concludes the list with: “These creators have dallied with Beatrice Cenci, but I have committed indiscretions” (152). An “intertextual feast”, by Clarke’s own admission, this rewriting of Beatrice’s story—especially Percy Bysshe Shelley’s own verse play, The Cenci—illustrates brilliantly what Northrop Frye offered as the first principle of the production of literature: “literature can only derive its form from itself” (15). But in the last several decades, what has come to be called intertextuality theory has shifted thinking away from looking at this phenomenon from the point of view of authorial influences on the writing of literature (and works like Harold Bloom’s famous study of the Anxiety of Influence) and toward considering our readerly associations with literature, the connections we (not the author) make—as we read. We, the readers, have become “empowered”, as we say, and we’ve become the object of academic study in our own right. Among the many associations we inevitably make, as readers, is with adaptations of the literature we read, be it of Jane Austin novels or Beowulf. Some of us may have seen the 2006 rock opera of Beowulf done by the Irish Repertory Theatre; others await the new Neil Gaiman animated film. Some may have played the Beowulf videogame. I personally plan to miss the upcoming updated version that makes Beowulf into the son of an African explorer. But I did see Sturla Gunnarsson’s Beowulf and Grendel film, and yearned to see the comic opera at the Lincoln Centre Festival in 2006 called Grendel, the Transcendence of the Great Big Bad. I am not really interested in whether these adaptations—all in the last year or so—signify Hollywood’s need for a new “monster of the week” or are just the sign of a desire to cash in on the success of The Lord of the Rings. For all I know they might well act as an ethical reminder of the human in the alien in a time of global strife (see McGee, A4). What interests me is the impact these multiple adaptations can have on the reader of literature as well as on the production of literature. Literature, like painting, is usually thought of as what Nelson Goodman (114) calls a one-stage art form: what we read (like what we see on a canvas) is what is put there by the originating artist. Several major consequences follow from this view. First, the implication is that the work is thus an original and new creation by that artist. However, even the most original of novelists—like Salman Rushdie—are the first to tell you that stories get told and retold over and over. Indeed his controversial novel, The Satanic Verses, takes this as a major theme. Works like the Thousand and One Nights are crucial references in all of his work. As he writes in Haroun and the Sea of Stories: “no story comes from nowhere; new stories are born of old” (86). But illusion of originality is only one of the implications of seeing literature as a one-stage art form. Another is the assumption that what the writer put on paper is what we read. But entire doctoral programs in literary production and book history have been set up to study how this is not the case, in fact. Editors influence, even change, what authors want to write. Designers control how we literally see the work of literature. Beatrice Chancy’s bookend maps of historical Acadia literally frame how we read the historical story of the title’s mixed-race offspring of an African slave and a white slave owner in colonial Nova Scotia in 1801. Media interest or fashion or academic ideological focus may provoke a publisher to foreground in the physical presentation different elements of a text like this—its stress on race, or gender, or sexuality. The fact that its author won Canada’s Governor General’s Award for poetry might mean that the fact that this is a verse play is emphasised. If the book goes into a second edition, will a new preface get added, changing the framework for the reader once again? As Katherine Larson has convincingly shown, the paratextual elements that surround a work of literature like this one become a major site of meaning generation. What if literature were not a one-stage an art form at all? What if it were, rather, what Goodman calls “two-stage” (114)? What if we accept that other artists, other creators, are needed to bring it to life—editors, publishers, and indeed readers? In a very real and literal sense, from our (audience) point of view, there may be no such thing as a one-stage art work. Just as the experience of literature is made possible for readers by the writer, in conjunction with a team of professional and creative people, so, arguably all art needs its audience to be art; the un-interpreted, un-experienced art work is not worth calling art. Goodman resists this move to considering literature a two-stage art, not at all sure that readings are end products the way that performance works are (114). Plays, films, television shows, or operas would be his prime examples of two-stage arts. In each of these, a text (a playtext, a screenplay, a score, a libretto) is moved from page to stage or screen and given life, by an entire team of creative individuals: directors, actors, designers, musicians, and so on. Literary adaptations to the screen or stage are usually considered as yet another form of this kind of transcription or transposition of a written text to a performance medium. But the verbal move from the “book” to the diminutive “libretto” (in Italian, little book or booklet) is indicative of a view that sees adaptation as a step downward, a move away from a primary literary “source”. In fact, an entire negative rhetoric of “infidelity” has developed in both journalistic reviewing and academic discourse about adaptations, and it is a morally loaded rhetoric that I find surprising in its intensity. Here is the wonderfully critical description of that rhetoric by the king of film adaptation critics, Robert Stam: Terms like “infidelity,” “betrayal,” “deformation,” “violation,” “bastardisation,” “vulgarisation,” and “desecration” proliferate in adaptation discourse, each word carrying its specific charge of opprobrium. “Infidelity” carries overtones of Victorian prudishness; “betrayal” evokes ethical perfidy; “bastardisation” connotes illegitimacy; “deformation” implies aesthetic disgust and monstrosity; “violation” calls to mind sexual violence; “vulgarisation” conjures up class degradation; and “desecration” intimates religious sacrilege and blasphemy. (3) I join many others today, like Stam, in challenging the persistence of this fidelity discourse in adaptation studies, thereby providing yet another example of what, in his article here called “The Persistence of Fidelity: Adaptation Theory Today,” John Connor has called the “fidelity reflex”—the call to end an obsession with fidelity as the sole criterion for judging the success of an adaptation. But here I want to come at this same issue of the relation of adaptation to the adapted text from another angle. When considering an adaptation of a literary work, there are other reasons why the literary “source” text might be privileged. Literature has historical priority as an art form, Stam claims, and so in some people’s eyes will always be superior to other forms. But does it actually have priority? What about even earlier performative forms like ritual and song? Or to look forward, instead of back, as Tim Barker urges us to do in his article here, what about the new media’s additions to our repertoire with the advent of electronic technology? How can we retain this hierarchy of artistic forms—with literature inevitably on top—in a world like ours today? How can both the Romantic ideology of original genius and the capitalist notion of individual authorship hold up in the face of the complex reality of the production of literature today (as well as in the past)? (In “Amen to That: Sampling and Adapting the Past”, Steve Collins shows how digital technology has changed the possibilities of musical creativity in adapting/sampling.) Like many other ages before our own, adaptation is rampant today, as director Spike Jonze and screenwriter Charlie Kaufman clearly realised in creating Adaptation, their meta-cinematic illustration-as-send-up film about adaptation. But rarely has a culture denigrated the adapter as a secondary and derivative creator as much as we do the screenwriter today—as Jonze explores with great irony. Michelle McMerrin and Sergio Rizzo helpfully explain in their pieces here that one of the reasons for this is the strength of auteur theory in film criticism. But we live in a world in which works of literature have been turned into more than films. We now have literary adaptations in the forms of interactive new media works and videogames; we have theme parks; and of course, we have the more common television series, radio and stage plays, musicals, dance works, and operas. And, of course, we now have novelisations of films—and they are not given the respect that originary novels are given: it is the adaptation as adaptation that is denigrated, as Deborah Allison shows in “Film/Print: Novelisations and Capricorn One”. Adaptations across media are inevitably fraught, and for complex and multiple reasons. The financing and distribution issues of these widely different media alone inevitably challenge older capitalist models. The need or desire to appeal to a global market has consequences for adaptations of literature, especially with regard to its regional and historical specificities. These particularities are what usually get adapted or “indigenised” for new audiences—be they the particularities of the Spanish gypsy Carmen (see Ioana Furnica, “Subverting the ‘Good, Old Tune’”), those of the Japanese samurai genre (see Kevin P. Eubanks, “Becoming-Samurai: Samurai [Films], Kung-Fu [Flicks] and Hip-Hop [Soundtracks]”), of American hip hop graffiti (see Kara-Jane Lombard, “‘To Us Writers, the Differences Are Obvious’: The Adaptation of Hip Hop Graffiti to an Australian Context”) or of Jane Austen’s fiction (see Suchitra Mathur, “From British ‘Pride’ to Indian ‘Bride’: Mapping the Contours of a Globalised (Post?)Colonialism”). What happens to the literary text that is being adapted, often multiple times? Rather than being displaced by the adaptation (as is often feared), it most frequently gets a new life: new editions of the book appear, with stills from the movie adaptation on its cover. But if I buy and read the book after seeing the movie, I read it differently than I would have before I had seen the film: in effect, the book, not the adaptation, has become the second and even secondary text for me. And as I read, I can only “see” characters as imagined by the director of the film; the cinematic version has taken over, has even colonised, my reader’s imagination. The literary “source” text, in my readerly, experiential terms, becomes the secondary work. It exists on an experiential continuum, in other words, with its adaptations. It may have been created before, but I only came to know it after. What if I have read the literary work first, and then see the movie? In my imagination, I have already cast the characters: I know what Gabriel and Gretta Conroy of James Joyce’s story, “The Dead,” look and sound like—in my imagination, at least. Then along comes John Huston’s lush period piece cinematic adaptation and the director superimposes his vision upon mine; his forcibly replaces mine. But, in this particular case, Huston still arguably needs my imagination, or at least my memory—though he may not have realised it fully in making the film. When, in a central scene in the narrative, Gabriel watches his wife listening, moved, to the singing of the Irish song, “The Lass of Aughrim,” what we see on screen is a concerned, intrigued, but in the end rather blank face: Gabriel doesn’t alter his expression as he listens and watches. His expression may not change—but I know exactly what he is thinking. Huston does not tell us; indeed, without the use of voice-over, he cannot. And since the song itself is important, voice-over is impossible. But I know exactly what he is thinking: I’ve read the book. I fill in the blank, so to speak. Gabriel looks at Gretta and thinks: There was grace and mystery in her attitude as if she were a symbol of something. He asked himself what is a woman standing on the stairs in the shadow, listening to distant music, a symbol of. If he were a painter he would paint her in that attitude. … Distant Music he would call the picture if he were a painter. (210) A few pages later the narrator will tell us: At last she turned towards them and Gabriel saw that there was colour on her cheeks and that her eyes were shining. A sudden tide of joy went leaping out of his heart. (212) This joy, of course, puts him in a very different—disastrously different—state of mind than his wife, who (we later learn) is remembering a young man who sang that song to her when she was a girl—and who died, for love of her. I know this—because I’ve read the book. Watching the movie, I interpret Gabriel’s blank expression in this knowledge. Just as the director’s vision can colonise my visual and aural imagination, so too can I, as reader, supplement the film’s silence with the literary text’s inner knowledge. The question, of course, is: should I have to do so? Because I have read the book, I will. But what if I haven’t read the book? Will I substitute my own ideas, from what I’ve seen in the rest of the film, or from what I’ve experienced in my own life? Filmmakers always have to deal with this problem, of course, since the camera is resolutely externalising, and actors must reveal their inner worlds through bodily gesture or facial expression for the camera to record and for the spectator to witness and comprehend. But film is not only a visual medium: it uses music and sound, and it also uses words—spoken words within the dramatic situation, words overheard on the street, on television, but also voice-over words, spoken by a narrating figure. Stephen Dedalus escapes from Ireland at the end of Joseph Strick’s 1978 adaptation of Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man with the same words as he does in the novel, where they appear as Stephen’s diary entry: Amen. So be it. Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race. … Old father, old artificer, stand me now and ever in good stead. (253) The words from the novel also belong to the film as film, with its very different story, less about an artist than about a young Irishman finally able to escape his family, his religion and his country. What’s deliberately NOT in the movie is the irony of Joyce’s final, benign-looking textual signal to his reader: Dublin, 1904 Trieste, 1914 The first date is the time of Stephen’s leaving Dublin—and the time of his return, as we know from the novel Ulysses, the sequel, if you like, to this novel. The escape was short-lived! Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man has an ironic structure that has primed its readers to expect not escape and triumph but something else. Each chapter of the novel has ended on this kind of personal triumphant high; the next has ironically opened with Stephen mired in the mundane and in failure. Stephen’s final words in both film and novel remind us that he really is an Icarus figure, following his “Old father, old artificer”, his namesake, Daedalus. And Icarus, we recall, takes a tumble. In the novel version, we are reminded that this is the portrait of the artist “as a young man”—later, in 1914, from the distance of Trieste (to which he has escaped) Joyce, writing this story, could take some ironic distance from his earlier persona. There is no such distance in the film version. However, it stands alone, on its own; Joyce’s irony is not appropriate in Strick’s vision. His is a different work, with its own message and its own, considerably more romantic and less ironic power. Literary adaptations are their own things—inspired by, based on an adapted text but something different, something other. I want to argue that these works adapted from literature are now part of our readerly experience of that literature, and for that reason deserve the same attention we give to the literary, and not only the same attention, but also the same respect. I am a literarily trained person. People like me who love words, already love plays, but shouldn’t we also love films—and operas, and musicals, and even videogames? There is no need to denigrate words that are heard (and visualised) in order to privilege words that are read. Works of literature can have afterlives in their adaptations and translations, just as they have pre-lives, in terms of influences and models, as George Eliot Clarke openly allows in those acknowledgements to Beatrice Chancy. I want to return to that Canadian work, because it raises for me many of the issues about adaptation and language that I see at the core of our literary distrust of the move away from the written, printed text. I ended my recent book on adaptation with a brief examination of this work, but I didn’t deal with this particular issue of language. So I want to return to it, as to unfinished business. Clarke is, by the way, clear in the verse drama as well as in articles and interviews that among the many intertexts to Beatrice Chancy, the most important are slave narratives, especially one called Celia, a Slave, and Shelley’s play, The Cenci. Both are stories of mistreated and subordinated women who fight back. Since Clarke himself has written at length about the slave narratives, I’m going to concentrate here on Shelley’s The Cenci. The distance from Shelley’s verse play to Clarke’s verse play is a temporal one, but it is also geographic and ideological one: from the old to the new world, and from a European to what Clarke calls an “Africadian” (African Canadian/African Acadian) perspective. Yet both poets were writing political protest plays against unjust authority and despotic power. And they have both become plays that are more read than performed—a sad fate, according to Clarke, for two works that are so concerned with voice. We know that Shelley sought to calibrate the stylistic registers of his work with various dramatic characters and effects to create a modern “mixed” style that was both a return to the ancients and offered a new drama of great range and flexibility where the expression fits what is being expressed (see Bruhn). His polemic against eighteenth-century European dramatic conventions has been seen as leading the way for realist drama later in the nineteenth century, with what has been called its “mixed style mimesis” (Bruhn) Clarke’s adaptation does not aim for Shelley’s perfect linguistic decorum. It mixes the elevated and the biblical with the idiomatic and the sensual—even the vulgar—the lushly poetic with the coarsely powerful. But perhaps Shelley’s idea of appropriate language fits, after all: Beatrice Chancy is a woman of mixed blood—the child of a slave woman and her slave owner; she has been educated by her white father in a convent school. Sometimes that educated, elevated discourse is heard; at other times, she uses the variety of discourses operative within slave society—from religious to colloquial. But all the time, words count—as in all printed and oral literature. Clarke’s verse drama was given a staged reading in Toronto in 1997, but the story’s, if not the book’s, real second life came when it was used as the basis for an opera libretto. Actually the libretto commission came first (from Queen of Puddings Theatre in Toronto), and Clarke started writing what was to be his first of many opera texts. Constantly frustrated by the art form’s demands for concision, he found himself writing two texts at once—a short libretto and a longer, five-act tragic verse play to be published separately. Since it takes considerably longer to sing than to speak (or read) a line of text, the composer James Rolfe keep asking for cuts—in the name of economy (too many singers), because of clarity of action for audience comprehension, or because of sheer length. Opera audiences have to sit in a theatre for a fixed length of time, unlike readers who can put a book down and return to it later. However, what was never sacrificed to length or to the demands of the music was the language. In fact, the double impact of the powerful mixed language and the equally potent music, increases the impact of the literary text when performed in its operatic adaptation. Here is the verse play version of the scene after Beatrice’s rape by her own father, Francis Chancey: I was black but comely. Don’t glance Upon me. This flesh is crumbling Like proved lies. I’m perfumed, ruddied Carrion. Assassinated. Screams of mucking juncos scrawled Over the chapel and my nerves, A stickiness, as when he finished Maculating my thighs and dress. My eyes seep pus; I can’t walk: the floors Are tizzy, dented by stout mauling. Suddenly I would like poison. The flesh limps from my spine. My inlets crimp. Vultures flutter, ghastly, without meaning. I can see lice swarming the air. … His scythe went shick shick shick and slashed My flowers; they lay, murdered, in heaps. (90) The biblical and the violent meet in the texture of the language. And none of that power gets lost in the opera adaptation, despite cuts and alterations for easier aural comprehension. I was black but comely. Don’t look Upon me: this flesh is dying. I’m perfumed, bleeding carrion, My eyes weep pus, my womb’s sopping With tears; I can hardly walk: the floors Are tizzy, the sick walls tumbling, Crumbling like proved lies. His scythe went shick shick shick and cut My flowers; they lay in heaps, murdered. (95) Clarke has said that he feels the libretto is less “literary” in his words than the verse play, for it removes the lines of French, Latin, Spanish and Italian that pepper the play as part of the author’s critique of the highly educated planter class in Nova Scotia: their education did not guarantee ethical behaviour (“Adaptation” 14). I have not concentrated on the music of the opera, because I wanted to keep the focus on the language. But I should say that the Rolfe’s score is as historically grounded as Clarke’s libretto: it is rooted in African Canadian music (from ring shouts to spirituals to blues) and in Scottish fiddle music and local reels of the time, not to mention bel canto Italian opera. However, the music consciously links black and white traditions in a way that Clarke’s words and story refuse: they remain stubbornly separate, set in deliberate tension with the music’s resolution. Beatrice will murder her father, and, at the very moment that Nova Scotia slaves are liberated, she and her co-conspirators will be hanged for that murder. Unlike the printed verse drama, the shorter opera libretto functions like a screenplay, if you will. It is not so much an autonomous work unto itself, but it points toward a potential enactment or embodiment in performance. Yet, even there, Clarke cannot resist the lure of words—even though they are words that no audience will ever hear. The stage directions for Act 3, scene 2 of the opera read: “The garden. Slaves, sunflowers, stars, sparks” (98). The printed verse play is full of these poetic associative stage directions, suggesting that despite his protestations to the contrary, Clarke may have thought of that version as one meant to be read by the eye. After Beatrice’s rape, the stage directions read: “A violin mopes. Invisible shovelsful of dirt thud upon the scene—as if those present were being buried alive—like ourselves” (91). Our imaginations—and emotions—go to work, assisted by the poet’s associations. There are many such textual helpers—epigraphs, photographs, notes—that we do not have when we watch and listen to the opera. We do have the music, the staged drama, the colours and sounds as well as the words of the text. As Clarke puts the difference: “as a chamber opera, Beatrice Chancy has ascended to television broadcast. But as a closet drama, it play only within the reader’s head” (“Adaptation” 14). Clarke’s work of literature, his verse drama, is a “situated utterance, produced in one medium and in one historical and social context,” to use Robert Stam’s terms. In the opera version, it was transformed into another “equally situated utterance, produced in a different context and relayed through a different medium” (45-6). I want to argue that both are worthy of study and respect by wordsmiths, by people like me. I realise I’ve loaded the dice: here neither the verse play nor the libretto is primary; neither is really the “source” text, for they were written at the same time and by the same person. But for readers and audiences (my focus and interest here), they exist on a continuum—depending on which we happen to experience first. As Ilana Shiloh explores here, the same is true about the short story and film of Memento. I am not alone in wanting to mount a defence of adaptations. Julie Sanders ends her new book called Adaptation and Appropriation with these words: “Adaptation and appropriation … are, endlessly and wonderfully, about seeing things come back to us in as many forms as possible” (160). The storytelling imagination is an adaptive mechanism—whether manifesting itself in print or on stage or on screen. The study of the production of literature should, I would like to argue, include those other forms taken by that storytelling drive. If I can be forgiven a move to the amusing—but still serious—in concluding, Terry Pratchett puts it beautifully in his fantasy story, Witches Abroad: “Stories, great flapping ribbons of shaped space-time, have been blowing and uncoiling around the universe since the beginning of time. And they have evolved. The weakest have died and the strongest have survived and they have grown fat on the retelling.” In biology as in culture, adaptations reign. References Bloom, Harold. The Anxiety of Influence. New York: Oxford University Press, 1975. Bruhn, Mark J. “’Prodigious Mixtures and Confusions Strange’: The Self-Subverting Mixed Style of The Cenci.” Poetics Today 22.4 (2001). Clarke, George Elliott. “Beatrice Chancy: A Libretto in Four Acts.” Canadian Theatre Review 96 (1998): 62-79. ———. Beatrice Chancy. Victoria, BC: Polestar, 1999. ———. “Adaptation: Love or Cannibalism? Some Personal Observations”, unpublished manuscript of article. Frye, Northrop. The Educated Imagination. Toronto: CBC, 1963. Goodman, Nelson. Languages of Art: An Approach to a Theory of Symbols. Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1968. Hutcheon, Linda, and Gary R. Bortolotti. “On the Origin of Adaptations: Rethinking Fidelity Discourse and “Success”—Biologically.” New Literary History. Forthcoming. Joyce, James. Dubliners. 1916. New York: Viking, 1967. ———. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. 1916. Penguin: Harmondsworth, 1960. Larson, Katherine. “Resistance from the Margins in George Elliott Clarke’s Beatrice Chancy.” Canadian Literature 189 (2006): 103-118. McGee, Celia. “Beowulf on Demand.” New York Times, Arts and Leisure. 30 April 2006. A4. Rushdie, Salman. The Satanic Verses. New York: Viking, 1988. ———. Haroun and the Sea of Stories. London: Granta/Penguin, 1990. Sanders, Julie. Adaptation and Appropriation. London and New York: Routledge, 160. Shelley, Percy Bysshe. The Cenci. Ed. George Edward Woodberry. Boston and London: Heath, 1909. Stam, Robert. “Introduction: The Theory and Practice of Adaptation.” Literature and Film: A Guide to the Theory and Practice of Film Adaptation. Oxford: Blackwell, 2005. 1-52. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Hutcheon, Linda. "In Defence of Literary Adaptation as Cultural Production." M/C Journal 10.2 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/01-hutcheon.php>. APA Style Hutcheon, L. (May 2007) "In Defence of Literary Adaptation as Cultural Production," M/C Journal, 10(2). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/01-hutcheon.php>.