Adaptation, Hypermediation, and Feminine Subjectivity: Paradise Lost and The Fall

I illustrate how Symphony X’s concept album retells Milton’s Paradise Lost and complicates the narrative through its use of voice and creative extrapolation, resulting in an intertextual relationship through which the album and epic influence one another’s readings, particularly with regard to gender and the biblical binary of good/evil. One of the difficulties in interpreting the album is that singer Russell Allen shifts his tone of voice to suit the mood of the song, not to denote a change in speaker. Thus, key passages that blend characters’ voices on the album further emphasize the deconstruction of good and evil introduced through the extrapolated narrative and challenge the traditional gender roles presented in the source text. I conclude that within Symphony X’s writing and performances of Paradise Lost, the combination of performative genders challenges the politics of both the source text and the album’s cultural context, i.e. that of heavy metal.

MLR, 104.1, 2009 169 For Isabella Whitney, onepayoff was self-legitimization as apublished authorina society where tobe public,professional, and female was potentially compromising. In A Sweet Nosgay Whitney presents her own labours as a writer and reader as responsestounemployment and economicdeprivation, thereby creating an image of thewriter as solitary and impoverished that recurs in thework of other authors consideredinthis volume.In the writings ofThomas Nashe, forinstance, thefrus trations of theunemployed university graduateare channelledintoan authorial identity predicated on resentment. The gapbetweentheprofessional expectations of theeducatedgentleman and thereality of life onGrub Street producesa sense of exclusionsimilarto Whitney's,butwhich hereprovidesthesatirist with the authority of theoutsider. Outsiderstatusisnotsomething onewould straightforwardly grant Ben Jonson, poet laureate inallbutname.He does,however, frequently represent hisauthorial laboursinterms ofsocially compromising manualwork,evenasheuses thetrope of manualwork todisparage otherssuchas InigoJones. Ellinghausenisnotthefirst to make this point, but shedoesprovideawide-ranging survey ofJonson's use of the ideaofwork,and a sensitive reading ofhis ambivalent treatment of theblacksmith godVulcan. (Indeed,I couldwish shehad examined Nashe'swritingsinsimilar depthinstead ofdigressing intoa study of the Parnassus plays.) One of thestrengths of thisbook is theunusual selection ofwritersonwhich itchooses tofocus:itissalutary, forexample,tobe alertedtotheextenttowhich the'Water Poet' John Taylordrawson Jonson as a 'modelfor non-elite authorship' (p. 93), even as Taylor's stress on his extra-literarywork aswaterman (not tomen tion hisrelatively enthusiastic embrace ofthe marketas a test ofcharacter) contrasts with Jonson's senseofpoetryas a vocationand his uneasyrelationship with the commercial theatre. Again, theideaofvocationlinksJonson withGeorge Wither, and the 'famousWorkes' alluded to in one of theverses inA Collection ofEmblemes (quotedp. 127)mightbringJonson tomind; however, thenotionthat onemight write them 'by composing but each Day a Line' takes us away from Jonson into a distinctively Protestant 'sense of time as a finite set of blocks [. . .] to be used forfulfilling divinepurpose' (p. 127).The chapters on thesethree writersare the most sustained partofEllinghausen's book,perhaps becausetheinfluential figure of Jonson helps her to draw thematerial together.However, thebook as awhole gives a strong sense of the changing ways inwhich authorship was constructed in early modernprintculture, aswell as highlighting theextenttowhich theideaofwork could be used tovalidate as well as to demean. SHEFFIELD HALLAM UNIVERSITY TOM RUTTER Milton's 'Paradise Lost'.Moral Education. ByMARGARET OLOFSONTHICKSTUN. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. 2007. xiv+184pp. ?40. ISBN978-1-4039 7757-1. For those ofuswho are waryoftheofficial discourse oneducation beingdominated byconcepts suchas skills(transferable oremployability) andknowingthe difference 170 Reviews between an aim and an objective, Margaret Thickstun's book will come as a refresh ing return tohumanist notions ofmoral and personal education. In a way, what she isdoingistaking the basicpremiss ofStanley Fish'sreader-focused approachto Mil ton,and turning itawayfrom beinga solutionto theEmpson-Lewisarguments aboutGod inParadiseLost. Insteaditbecomes amanifestoforattending to the personaldevelopment of thestudents who readParadiseLost aspartof their Eng lishsyllabus. Reading Milton helpsyougrowup. So, thisisa book about teaching Milton,with references tothescholarly literature aboutsocialization aswell as the usualstuff aboutParadiseLostandOfEducation.Itisan interesting, bold,andoften engagingattemptto translate theexperience of teaching Milton intosomething more than adviceonhow toruna successful seminar. Itsopeningchapter, 'Teaching ParadiseLost inthe Twenty-First Century', assertsthatthe poem 'addresses directly theissuesof self-determination andpersonalresponsibility thattheyfaceintheir lives: peerpressure, sexualdesire,thepursuit ofhappiness,thechoiceof life work' (p. 1).Not everyone willwarm to thisapproach, particularly those who think our responsibility is toteachthesubjectand instil academicrigour, andnot toengage explicitly with the psychological and socialdevelopment ofourstudents outsidethe consultation hour.Thebook isold-fashioned, inthesensethatitrevives an ethical discourse, of literature teaching values,that was largely opposedby thetheoretical revolution of the197osand 198os (withexceptions, Iknow).But itisemphatically not reactionary in themanner ofAllan Bloom; and, as one would expect from the author ofFictions of theFeminine: Puritan Doctrine and the Representation ofWomen (Ithaca, NY: CornellUniversity Press,1988), itisparticularly and revealingly alert to matters ofsexualpolitics. There is a theoretical basis to this,but not one thatwould be encountered in the usual anthologies of literary theory, and none of themwill be household names to Miltonists-ThomasLickonaon educatingfor character, for example, orNellNod dings on a feminine approach to ethics and moral education. (The chapter headings arerecognizably those ofa critical bookon the poem aimedoutsidetheimmediate scholarly circleof Miltonists.)Theemphaseson politics,theology, andgenderthat have animated recent discussion give way to a more humanist approach which is implicitly Christianinits deploying ofbiblicaltexts asepigraphs toeachchapter, but more explicitly about literary learning as a way of growing up and living in society. Thekeyemphasis becomesthelearning processinthe poem,notjustofthereaders, or ofAdam...

<i>Surprise: The Poetics of the Unexpected from Milton to Austen</i>. Christopher R. Miller. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2015. Pp. vii+269.

In Paradise Lost, Adam asks, Why do I overlive? Adam's anguished question is the basis for a critical analysis of living too long as a neglected but central theme in Western tragic literature. Emily Wilson examines this experience in works by Milton and by four of his literary predecessors: Sophocles, Euripides, Seneca, and Shakespeare. Each of these writers composed works in which the central character undergoes unbearable suffering or loss, hopes for death, but goes on living. Mocked with Death makes clear that tragic works need not find their moral and aesthetic conclusion in death and that, in some instances, tragedy consists of living on rather than dying. Oedipus's survival at the end of Oedipus Tyrannus and Oedipus Coloneus is clearly one such instance; another Euripides' Heracles. In Seneca's Hercules Furens, overliving becomes an expression of anxieties about both political and literary belatedness. In King Lear and Macbeth, the sense of overliving produces a divided sense of self. For Milton, in both Samson Agonistes and Paradise Lost, overliving is a theological problem arising from the tension between mortal conceptions of time and divine providence. Each writer in this tradition, Wilson concludes, attempts to diminish the anxieties arising from living past one's time but cannot entirely minimize them. Tragedies of overliving remain disturbing because they remind us that life is rarely as neat as we expect and hope it be and that endings often come too late.

Religion & Literature 208 “Una candida cerva” from the Canzoniere; Augustine’s Confessions; Paradise Lost; and many others. This capacious range of interests makes this a particularly evocative and suggestive study; it does make Donne’s holy sonnets themselves a somewhat elusive presence in the volume, however. The first chapter only turns to “Death be not proud” on page 54 of a chapter that ends on page 56, for instance. The final chapter, again promised as a return to “Death be not proud,” discusses the sonnet itself only in the final three pages. Many of Donne’s sonnets are barely mentioned, and Donne’s other divine poems which might be of great interest for this trope are not discussed at all. These absences are both ironic (given the book’s focus on attentiveness vs. distraction) and a frustration, as many of Marno’s close readings of Donne’s poems are so very detailed, sophisticated, and suggestive. His reading of Petrarch takes seriously the notion of distraction that the “scattered rhymes” title suggests, and he parses the water images of “una candida cerva” beautifully (148). His attention to prosody in the sonnets is admirable and deftly managed. Marno’s reading of “This is my Playes last scene” rightly notes the “transient and disposable” series of images in the opening section of the poem (13). His reading of Donne’s death sonnet does (in the final chapter) fascinatingly address not only the series of unconvincing arguments in Donne’s sonnet but also the ironic revivification of Death in its final line. Framing these very intelligent readings, Marno’s scholarly contexts, though admirably comprehensive in some respects, do get oddly anchored to Martz’s and Lewalski’s (in)famous and now hoary disputes over the confessional allegiances of early modern religious verse. Marno appears to be torn about how to negotiate these battle lines. At times arguing for a synthesis of patristic and Protestant thinking, at times venturing to entertain Protestant debates, more often hearkening to Ignatian and medieval paradigms , Death Be Not Proud feels in some ways like postmodern poetic analysis within a mid-seventies frame of reference. Marno’s scholarly citations are very wide-ranging and usually current. But because the volume appears ambivalent about historical specificity, willing to avoid social intersections between religion and class, gender, or sexuality, and willing to use scriptural exegesis to build close readings, Marno’s study feels somewhat resistant to current discourses. I think by contrast of Gary Kuchar’s work, which has similar intellectual interests but which engages current questions with more ease. This oddly uncomfortable affect in Death Be Not Proud is amplified by its uneven attention to audience. In some ways Marno assumes a readership highly literate in both Christian theology and European literatures; he trusts us to follow his Greek and Latin terms and his frequent shifts from BOOK REVIEWS 209 Malebranche to Ashbery, from Kleist to Castiglione. These same shifts in the argument suggest a writer who is following his own lead rather than thinking of what his readers might be expecting. At other moments, Marno feels the need to explain to his readers what “we” need to know in order to follow his argument. “Let me open up here a brief excursus” is one example of both the organizational and prose style of Marno’s work, implying both a stream-of-consciousness argument and an ambivalent awareness of the reader’s capacities (60). Many of Marno’s claims also suffer from the dancing-about quality of the argument. The patristics are mostly present through Augustine; medieval cultures of piety are frequently referenced but rarely given primary evidence. Because Petrarch only appears briefly, Marno’s fascinating suggestion that sonnet sequences suggest a lack of attention does not really develop into an analysis of the sequence-ness of Donne’s holy sonnets. Even Ignatius, who would seem to be a central figure in this argument, does not get more than a brief mention until the fourth chapter of the book. Hence my sense that reading this monograph is more like waiting than it is like arriving. When we do arrive at a reading or an insight, Death Be Not Proud is rich...

838 Reviews While the case for France's global dominance may remain not proven, Ferguson offershere a fascinatingly differentslant on France's perennial love affairwith food. University of Glasgow Elizabeth Moles The Vision ofDante: Cary's Translation of 'The Divine Comedy'. By Edoardo Crisafulli . Market Harborough: Troubador. 2003. xii + 348 pp. ?25; ?13.99. ISBN 1-899293-09-4. H. F. Cary's translation of Dante into Miltonic blank verse was one of the most culturally significant productions of nineteenth-century Britain. Writers as different as John Keats and John Ruskin carried it about their person and, illustrated by Gustave Dore, it would grace many a Victorian parlour table. Through its cunning allusiveness to a broad range of English poetry, it enabled a foreign medieval Catholic poet to be assimilated to British culture to such an extent that the Commedia came to supplant even Paradise Lost as the epic by which the nineteenth century sought to understand itself. Edoardo Crisafulli's study, therefore, is most timely in being the firstbook to con? centrate solely on Cary's translation, although Valeria Tinkler-Villani has included extensive discussion of Cary's project in her Visions ofDante in English Poetry (Ams? terdam: Rodopi, 1989) and Ralph Pite has traced the influence of Cary's translation on the Romantic movement in poetry (The Circle of our Vision: Dante's Presence in English Romantic Poetry (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994)). One of the most impressive features of Crisafulli's book is his close attention to the religious setting of Cary's work, and he situates it carefully in relation to the Anglican Thirty-Nine Articles and infers a broadly 'Ghibelline' reading of the poem, appropriate to a national Church that can read Dante's sympathies with a universal Emperor as prefiguring its own establishment, and which shares a Ghibelline antipathy to papal powers. Crisafulli notes specific instances when Cary's translation strengthens the antipapal language in a manner significant in the context of growing calls for Catholic emancipation in the early nineteenth century. In contrast, this study emphasizes the interpretative nature of Cary's understanding of textual criticism, which leads him to present the reader with a range of possible manuscript readings of debated passages and which prevents a totalizing reading of the source text. While offeringconsiderable insight into the cultural production of Cary's transla? tion, this study has a second focus in offeringa new model of translation study, and about half the book is taken up with this topic. In this context, Crisafulli argues for an eclectic approach that seeks to take account both of poststructuralist valorization of difference rather than equivalence in translation and empirical systemization to argue for an eclectic 'historical empiricism' (p. 78). This reviewer is not a scholar of translation studies but did note that there seemed to be a tension between the broadly synchronic nature of translation theory and the diachronic nature of Cary's project, which, indeed, seeks to dramatize historical distance itself as part of its own translation theory. Crisafulli himself seemed most alert to the problem and one had a sense of him struggling with the limits of his methodology. In his conclusion, for example, he states that Cary was a 'conservative' translator 'only from a stylistic point of view' (p. 331) in an attempt to use and also question translation-theory categories, but even Cary's deliberate use of archaisms, Anglo-Saxon-style alliteration, and King James Bible sublimity can all be attributed to a historicist project to subsume Dante within English culture and, importantly, to give the nascent English literary canon Dante's own cultural prestige. While this book agrees with my historicist reading, it still seems to conclude that Cary's translation seeks to render Dante historically MLR, 100.3, 2005 839 'ancient' by means of its archaizing strategy,rather than seeing him 'fill in' the histor? ical gap between source and target text. There are, indeed, not just Renaissance but eighteenth-century and even contemporary poetic allusions throughout the Vision, including references to poetry by Wordsworth and Coleridge. This is a new and implicitly ' Whiggish' historicism which sits uneasily with translation-theory formalism. Despite these caveats about translation studies, Crisafulli's chapter...

For Joseph Wittreich ... he stood, as one who pray'd, Or some great matter in his mind revolv'd. --Samson Agonistes, 1637-38 when I was on the Other Side, I received no instructions. Guide pressed me, and when I was about to enter trance I would pray to be given an order to give [the church], so they could take action. I wanted this so much, and I prayed as I went into trance, and it was all quite painful and trying. In the end when I returned, completely spent, the message that Guide heard me and reworked into ordinary language told them neither to take action nor to desist. --Patron, in Kenzaburo Oe's Somersault (1999; English trans., 2003; second emphasis mine) GIVEN BLAKE'S ENDURING PASSION FOR MILTON, IT IS REMARKABLE THAT he never illustrated Samson Agonistes. Over many years he visualized every other major work of Milton's except Lycidas, and some texts (such as the Nativity Ode and Paradise Lost) he illustrated multiply and variously. The dramatic poem's omission becomes even more puzzling when we consider that Blake did execute several paintings on the Samson cycle the Book of Judges, including Samson Pulling Down the Temple mentioned by William Rossetti, now regrettably lost. On the rare occasions when Blake does link one of his images to Samson Agonistes, he does so obliquely. Around 1804 he inscribed caption beneath the famous rose print, the figure of youthful exuberance he had first sketched almost twenty-five years earlier (fig. 1). Rising from where he labourd at the Mill Slaves, Albion clearly recalls Milton's Samson, Eyeless in Gaza at the Mill slaves, (1) but the relationship between image and source text is by no means clear and has led Blake scholars to strikingly different conclusions. David Erdman, for instance, was convinced that this naked youth expresses the collective political spirit of the American Revolution and the Gordon Riots; properly understood as a terrific social utterance, rose provides Erdman's Prophet Against Empire its first corrective lesson in how to read Blake historically. Others have suggested the picture is more personal, representing either the renewed ecstatic visions Blake experienced after returning Felpham to London in 1803 or the artistic freedom he desired after many years of being mired in the drudgery of commercial copywork. (2) The image that lies closest to Milton's Samson at the pillars is the last of the 537 watercolors Blake prepared for an illustrated version of Edward Young's Night Thoughts (fig. 2), where his representation of an open-eyed Samson directly contradicts the biblical narrative and instead echoes Milton's description of Samson with inward eyes illuminated (1689). But despite its oblique, secondary reference to Samson Agonistes, this picture primarily refers to the final, apocalyptic lines of Young's poem: like Him of Gaza in his Wrath, / Plucking the Pillars that support the World. (3) Samson Agonistes sneaks in under cover, leaving us again to wonder why Blake never illustrated it directly. [FIGURE 1 OMITTED] [FIGURE 2 OMITTED] The absence of direct visual representation by no means indicates that Milton's tragedy was unimportant to Blake. In fact, I believe it indicates the opposite. Blake was haunted by Samson Agonistes, especially by Samson at the pillars, and he returned to that moment almost obsessively. He never represents it directly because he Cannot; that is, he cannot form that moment into unified image or series that would achieve comprehensive interpretation of the dramatic poem, as his other illustrations of Milton's poetry brashly attempt to do. Despite Manoa's concluding promise to build his son monument, Samson Agonistes leaves its reader heap of ruins, tangled wreckage of bodies and building, and the poem likewise enters into Blake's work in collapse, as multitude of fragments we can view only serially and collectively, in pieces, but never unified into single whole. …

This study examines the translations of Paradise Lost translated in South and North Korea. Using Mona Baker’s Narrative Theory and Framing Concept and Kathryn Batchelor’s Paratext Concept as the theoretical basis, this study explores the representation of Satan in the source text and analyzes how its aspects were reframed in the South and North Korean translations’ paratext and main body. It specifically reviews the paratext’s preface and the commentary on the work, and it analyzes Satan’s appearance, action, and speech in the main body. The analysis shows that reframing took place mainly through selective appropriation and labelling during the translation process. In the paratext, the South Korean translation frames Paradise Lost as a Christian poem. The North Korean translation however transforms the source text into a radical political poem and reframes it as a communist narrative. Whereas the South Korean translation tends to weaken the positive narrative of Satan, the North Korean translation strengthens the positive narrative of Satan and relates it to the North Korean political narrative. The transformed Satan in the North Korean translation shares similarities with the role model of an autonomous communist common in the North Korean literature.

This article explores the paradise myth in A. S. Byatt’s ‘Morpho Eugenia’. While William Adamson’s journey from Bredely Hall to the Amazon parallels Satan’s ascent from Hell to Paradise in Paradise Lost, Seth’s adventure echoes Odysseus’s trip to the kingdom of the dead in The Odyssey, Aeneas’s descent into the Underworld in The Aeneid and Guyon’s journey to Hades’ dark realm in The Faerie Queene. Byatt integrates Miltonic motifs with Homeric, Virgilian, and Spenserian patterns, embedding the body–mind conflict within the paradise myth’s framework. The interplay between the lower and upper levels and Hell and Paradise underscore Byatt’s central theme: while marriage ensnares her artists and scientists, work liberates them.

In broad terms, two slightly different critical approaches to Du Bartas's Huguenot creation poetry have emerged over the last decades, partly for local cultural, including religio-cultural, reasons. In terms of substance, this work is a fine example of the French continental approach, which focuses on La Sepmaine mainly as scientific and encyclopedic poetry in the seminal tradition of Albert-Marie Schmidt. Partly owing to today's ever-increasing secularization, the critical focus of this approach is currently the more salient. The second approach, backgrounded in La Forme des choses, is more allied to long-established scholarship related to the English Renaissance, within which the Protestant hexameral poet tends to be mainly perceived as a precursor to Milton. Continuing in the French continental line, Giacomotto-Charra is concerned with issues of neo-Aristotelianism, including a significant focus on the elements. The latter are not seen saliently as related to the Chain of Being; this in contrast to the approach typically taken by the second, more — in the French sense — Anglo-Saxon critical approach to La Sepmaine, which generally has a greater concern with Christian Neoplatonism. La Forme des choses largely ignores the bibliographical background to this second approach — including my own 1998 book — but otherwise acknowledges a wide variety of Du Bartas's own potential sources. The first four chapters comprise a very scholarly — and in parts notably insightful — exploration of many of the established themes natural to studies of the poet. Giacomotto-Charra begins by addressing the theoretical background of La Sepmaine, together with strategic parameters of Du Bartas's handling of sixteenth-century scientific discourse. The second chapter (‘La Muse savante’) explores Du Bartas's notions of poetic theory as expressed in his ars poetica, L'Uranie (1572). Poetic imitation and recreation of divine creation are duly marked as central topics here, although it would have been good to see at least acknowledgement of the significantly playful manner in which the Huguenot poet presents these matters. Similarly, the erudite treatment of Du Bartas's approach to nature in Chapter 3 could have been improved by reference to the underlying Christocentric patterns that, as later in Paradise Lost, are such a prominent feature of both La Sepmaine and L'Eden, the opening section of La Seconde Sepmaine. Chapter 4 focuses on perceived resonances with sources, in particular St Basil's Homilies and Aristotle's Physics. The last three chapters then make perhaps the main contribution of the book. The author elegantly explores resonances between Aquinas's designation of divine creation in terms of creatio, distinctio, and ornatus, and the rhetorical triumvirate of inventio, dispositio, and elocutio as applied by the creating poet. This analysis is a very welcome complement to more established explorations of poetic creation in La Sepmaine conceived in terms of parallels between poetic and divine creation regarded essentially from Neoplatonic viewpoints. Ideally, this work needed to be transformed rather more from the preceding thesis material. Prose style and progress of argument can be quite challenging. At the same time, La Forme des choses in its latter half in particular makes a distinguished contribution to our understanding of the poet who was once for so many ‘le divin [Du] Bartas’ (p. 104 n.).

Humor could be created by violation of maxim of the cooperative principle as proposed by Grice. In Kariage Kun, a well-known Japanese humor comic, it is challenging to analyze what maxim violation is explored to create humor, as it represents a co-interplay between a series of images and text. This study aimed to analyze the pattern of maxim violation in source text from Kariage Kun vol 49 (from word level to sentence level) and to compare whether the pattern of maxim violation is similar or shifting in the Indonesian version. The result of this study shows that the author of the comic explored the violation of maxims to create humor. The violation took place on a single or combination of the maxim of quantity, the maxim of quality, the maxim of relevance, and the maxim of manner. Compared to the target text, there are not many (less than ten percent) shifting of the pattern of maxim violation in the target text. The shifting mostly occurred when the violation dealt with the ambiguity of typical cultural load in the source text, preservation of acceptability and readability for target readers in terms of translation technique, and limited space of speech balloon.

344 SEER, 79, 2, 200 I National Chronicle', 'Dlugosz and the Buda Chronicle' (in French) and the 'FirstHungarian Historians'. He took a freshlook at the narrativetexts, re-examining their composition and sourcesin a detail that nobody else has, before or since. Veryprobablyhe was provokedby the older conservativephilology in Hungary, and indeed his excellent criticalabilityensured him a much better graspof textual problems than many of his Hungarian counterparts.Today, it is a communis opinio that it was a mistake to attribute the differentchronicle continuations 'to a single brain','alost gestatheory',as suggestedby ProfessorBalintH6man. In search of these alternative national traditionsMacartney analysed all the chronicle variants (Chronicon Budense, Posoniense, Zagrabiense, Varadiense, and so on) and the most influentiallegends (St Stephen, St Gerard).He purposefully concentratedhis researcheson the Hunnish-Hungariantradition,formulated by Simon of Keza in the second half of the thirteenthcentury. This is a story almost totally bound up in the western literary tradition (Nibelungenlied, Attila saga, and so on) and historicalsources (Jordanes, Martin of Troppau, and so on). Macartney's unmatched literary knowledge gave him a sound basisfor criticizingearlierHungarian research,but he was certainlytoo strict with two outstanding researchers,SAndorDomanovszky and Sandor Eckhardt , and he undoubtedly over-complicatedthe derivationof texts from each other. But Macartney's work is still the most complete compilation of a definitiveline of Central-Europeanhistoriography,and no Hungarianhasyet attempted to produce anythingsimilar.The book startsoffwith two excellent biographicaland life'sworkessays,writtenby the editors,Czigany and Peter, and by G. H. N. Seton-Watson (pp. ix-xxxv), followed by a selected bibliographyof Macartney'sworks(pp. xxxvii-xliii). However, readingof the book is hampered by the lack of the source texts, a list of abbreviationsof the quoted source texts, and a brief summaryof the main historiographicalwork since Macartney. The book will certainly cause many surprisesfor historians of medieval Central Europe. Since its component essayswere designed to form a bridge between the literature of small nations and history as written in world languages,thisbook now fulfilsMacartney'swishes:understandingtheMiddle Ages is the route to the understandingand acceptance of the roots of today's multiculturalrealityin CentralEurope. Department ofMedieval Studies L. M. VESZPREMY Central European University, Budapest Nagy, Balazs and Seb8k, Marcell (eds). ... TheMan of ManyDevices,WAho Wandered FullManyWays. . .. Festschrift inHonorofJdnos M.Bak.Central EuropeanUniversityPress,Budapest, I999. xvii + 708 pp. Notes. Tables. Figures.Illustrations.Bibliography.?44-95 SOMEFestschriftsare organized around a central theme, while the other, and more common type simplyconsistsof a varietyof articlesto honour a scholar, without trying to achieve any real unity. This book falls into the second category;althoughthe contributionsaredividedinto nine sections(Personalia, REVIEWS 345 Artes, Rebelliones, Majestas, Hagiographica, Quotidiana, VariaMedievalia, Hungarica, Historiographica), there is no attempt at either thematic or chronological unity in the volume as a whole. Indeed, as both the title, a quotation from Homer's Odyssey, and the section headings indicate, diversity was one of the aims of the editors.Through thisvariety,they emphasizeJanos Bak's own experiences (he has lived and worked in several countries), and reflecthis own interests. The book consists of sixty-six articles (all written in English, German, or French)on Western-and East-CentralEuropeantopics fromlate Antiquityto the twentieth century. It also contains the full bibliography of Bak's own works.The articlesin any one section are only very loosely connected to each other through a broadly defined main theme. For example, the section 'Rebelliones' includes a piece by John C. Parsonson the real and perceived power of twelfth-centuryFrenchqueens to endanger the social orderthrough revealing their body; a second by Piotr G6recki on social violence and its remedies (punishment rather than arbitration)in lower Silesia; a third by Hanna Zaremska on cases of litigation by fifteenth-centuryJews before the Christian authorities in Krak6w; a fourth by Gabor Klaniczay on the characterizationsof rebelliouspeasantsinlatemedievalHungary,highlighting the birth of various stereotypes; and a fifth on Central European ideas linkingsocial criticism,Utopian social models and Reformationby Ferdinand Seibt. Most of the articlesin the volume are specificcase studies.As the following examples show, they will be of interest to specialists. Maria Dobozy demonstrates that Gottfried von Strassburg'sidea of rulershipin Tristan did not focus on the individual's virtues and vices, but instead on the social dynamics of the court. Andras Kubinyi examines the political role...

This paper examines translator autonomy in the translation of Korean-Chinese and Chinese-Korean children’s literature. Since the cultural shift in translation studies in the 1990s, the role and autonomy of translators have become central topics in translation studies. Translator autonomy refers to the translator’s subjective initiative in achieving translation goals, influenced by external factors. Using a sample of 187 books and focusing solely on title translations, this study conducts both quantitative and qualitative analyses based on translation methods. In comparing translation approaches, it references Newmark’s strategies of “source language” and “target language” while also considering Korean-Chinese/Chinese-Korean translation practices. Translation methods are categorized into three types: faithful translation of the source text (including character and transliteration translation), free translation for the target text, and target text revision following “transformation” of the source text. This paper deeply analyzes the title translations of children’s literature published between 2001 and 2020 in Korea and China, aiming to compare translator autonomy and its limitations in Korean-Chinese and Chinese-Korean children’s literature translation practices. Findings reveal that in 101 Korean children’s books translated into Chinese, 25 titles (24.7%) were revised; in 86 Chinese children’s books translated into Korean, 28 titles (32.5%) underwent revisions. In these revisions, translators in both countries creatively adapted titles to better align with the cultural context and readership of the target culture, demonstrating the translator’s subjective initiative. Korean-Chinese translation emphasizes preserving the unique linguistic charm of Korean, while Chinese-Korean translation focuses more on making the title accessible to Chinese readers. When dealing with unique cultural elements, translators adjust their translations according to the cultural acceptability and cognitive habits of the target audience. Furthermore, the purposes and audiences for Korean-Chinese and Chinese-Korean children’s literature adaptations vary; some are aimed at meeting children’s reading needs, while others are geared toward cultural promotion or exchange. Different translation purposes and audiences influence the strategies, methods, and quality of translations.

<i>Political Turmoil: Early Modern British Literature in Transition, 1623–1660</i>. Edited by Stephen B. Dobranski. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019. Pp. xvi+365.

REVIEWS 171 McDermott's discussion of Richardson is problematic. He claims diat "very little has been written about die elements of romance in die novels of Samuel Richardson, and perhaps dûs is understandable since die majority of students of eighteendi-century fiction are interested in what is new in his fiction radier dian what is borrowed or adapted" (p. 147). So few important Richardson critics are cited that it is no wonder that McDermott has dûs impression. Margaret Anne Doody, for one, is never mentioned in dûs or any regard. Nor are die "students" of die period who have for some time addressed die question of psychological romance in Richardson. When McDermott places Clarissa witìun die tradition of "passionate romance" and dien argues mat "Clarissa consistently refuses to accept die general view of herself as die heroine of a passionate romance" (p. 184), he suggests an interesting intertextual reading of die novel. I dûnk diat he could go far widi dûs approach, but die argument is never fully realized. In his section on "Henry Fielding's Comic Romances" he argues diat Joseph Andrews is a more complete parody of Pamela dian anyone has recognized and that Fielding saw bodi Joseph Andrews and Tom Jones as "comic romances" (p. 209). But dien McDermott usefully observes mat "an analysis of die word 'romance' as contained in Fielding's term 'comic romance' is not a simple matter, mostly because of Fielding's uncertain attitude towards die word" (p. 21 1). He ends widi a comment on die connection between Fielding and die Greeks: "Mention has already been made of the separation of lovers, die many journeys, die discovery of die true bird!—all of which are common to Fielding and die Greeks. Homer was die obvious writer of fiction widi which to begin a discussion of novel and romance, Fielding a fitting one widi which to end" (p. 223). There is again sometiûng appalling in die assumptions here; and if we were looking for a defence of die scope and technique of die volume, we are bound to be disappointed. It is hard to imagine an audience diat would be fully pleased widi this volume. Serious scholars in die field will be frustrated widi die lack of scholarly rigour in die research; theoretically inclined readers will be appalled at die refusal to take recent theoretical discussions of fiction seriously; and student readers may have problems widi die tone. McDermott raises some interesting questions here, but it will have to be someone else who answers them. George E. Haggerty University of California—Riverside Margaret Olofson Thickstun. Fictions ofthe Feminine: Puritan Doctrine and the Representation of Women. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1988. xi + 176pp. US$19.95. In Fictions ofthe Feminine Margaret Olofson Thickstun proposes a series of interrelated readings of five important Puritan fictions by Spenser, Milton, Bunyan, Richardson, and Hawthorne. She argues diat diese works are grounded in Pauline doctrine which defines the relationship of man to woman on the analogy of the hierarchy of head to body and spirit to flesh. Widi woman "ontologically and essentially identified widi 'body' " (p. 7) and body identified widi original sin, woman becomes diereby die insufficient sex. These equations in turn translate into a new rendering of heroism and die dramas of conscience, individual responsibility, sexual hierarchy, and marriage in Puritan literature, in which Spenser, Milton, and Bunyan displace female characters from tiieir traditional positive roles (as brides of Christ and representatives of virtue and chastity), and replace diem widi men. 172 EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY FICTION 3:2 Chapter 1 examines The Faerie Queene, focusing chiefly on die depiction of Britomart, "the most aggressive, active good woman in die poem" (p. 57). Her quest for "companionate marriage" illustrates Spenser's female ideal. By dius defining her aim and hope, he directs and radically limits female power since companionate marriage includes, as its central tenet, woman's subordination. This subordination controls die inherent dangers of femaleness, namely, die original sinfulness of die flesh. Chapter 2 maps die complex routes by which Milton makes Eve die scapegoat of the Fall in Paradise Lost. Thus conceived, die Fall becomes essentially a temptation story...