Proud Man Research Articles

MCCLESKEY ACCUSED Justice Powell and The Moral Price of Institutional Pride

<i>MCCLESKEY</i> ACCUSED Justice Powell and The Moral Price of Institutional Pride

Преступление и раскаяние Раскольникова в русской и венгерской литературах второй половины XX в.

The article deals with the creative reception of a complex of motifs “sin - repentance - salvation” and the hero’s moral reflections that form the basis of Crime and Punishment and Fyodor Dostoevsky’s unfulfilled plan of a book about the “Great Sinner.” We analyze the works of several Russian and Hungarian authors of the 1960s-1990s. In Victor Pelevin’s novel Chapayev and Pustota, the hero involuntarily becomes a murderer. Instead of being exiled to Siberia, he ends up in a mental hospital, which functionally serves as a replacement for Raskolnikov’s “punishment” stage - a prison sentence. After leaving the hospital, the hero, who has not accepted the new reality, flees to a Buddhist monastery in Inner Mongolia to escape from the criminalized and dangerous modernity. The motifs of crime and failed repentance of the outsider writer are used by Vladimir Makanin in the novel The Underground or the Hero of Our Time. His hero recognizes Dostoevsky’s authority, projecting the novel’s situation onto his own. However, he rejects the need to repent the murders, since for him Raskolnikov’s story is an “alien” literary plot and a humiliation of his very “self.” The heroes of Limonov’s early prose constantly relate themselves to the marginal heroes and criminals of Dostoevsky. For them, the impossibility of repentance does not cancel the hero’s selfdoubt, his “state of hesitation” that determines, according to Dostoevsky, the behavior of the Great Sinner and Raskolnikov. In Russian prose of the 1990s, the text and plot allusions of which refer to Crime and Punishment, the main antihero is a writer and reader of Dostoevsky who tries on the situations and actions of Dostoevsky’s heroes, ultimately dismissing them as “alien” and “literary.” The classics of modern Hungarian literature, Janos Pilinszky and Miklos Meszoly, admitted that they literally lived inside Dostoevsky’s world. The novels of Meszoly of the 1960s, The Death of an Athlete and Saul, both tell the story of rebirth and conversion of two heroes - the runner Balint and the detective Saul. Balint is lonely and aspires to the absolute, a sports record, for which he is willing to sacrifice everything. He is similar to Dostoevsky’s sinner in his pridefulness. However, before his death, he ascends a mountain. The motifs that accompany his “spiritual ascent” point to the sacred symbolism of rebirth. The final change in the direction and purpose of running turns him into an “athleta Christi”, a repentant proud man. However, the plot of Saul does not follow the Bible to the end and finishes with Saul’s blinding, interrupting the biblical story and not representing his enlightenment as of the future Paul the Apostle. Similarly to Crime and Punishment, the novel unfolds around a murder - a “stoning” of the victim, Stephen the Apostle. Saul, like Raskolnikov, renounces his former self-identification and logic of the Law. The shock in both cases is the sin of murder, the internal experience of the crime. Saul takes the blame for the beating of Stephen. The authors declare no conflicts of interests.

A revitalisation of virtue ethics in contemporary education

In this article I will discuss employing the classical prescripts of Aristotle’s virtue ethics in education as a guide for youth education. For Aristotle, the practice of virtues was not a goal in itself, since virtues are dispositions which may be revealed in various acts reflecting human perfection. Virtues tell us how to act to achieve a particular goal. The ethics of virtue highlights the love of good and perfection. The attitude of a justly proud man consists, among other things, in approving of what is good; at the same time, however, he strives towards selfsufficiency. Self-improvement, which emphasises self-sufficiency, often becomes behaviour that can, unfortunately, generate standoffishness, arrogance, and egotism.

Satanological Myth in the Coptic literature and its development

The article deals with the satanic myth, its Biblical genesis and further development in Judaism and early Christianity as well as its variants in Coptic literature. The myth is based on the story about the fall of the Supreme Angel and his subsequent transformation into an evil spirit. Two versions of the myth are known conventionally called “The proud man” and the “Envious man”. The first is the “legend of Lucifer” when Satan wished to become higher than God or equal to Him and was cast down. This legend goes back to the Biblical prophets as well as the pre-Christian exegesis. The second version describes how Satan was cast down for refusing to worship Adam. This legend is partly rooted in the book of Job and could have developed as a result of two coexisting, however, separate motives were found in the Jewish and early Christian exegesis. Both variants occur in great detail in various Coptic texts, including magical ones. The Biblical basis of the myth enlarged by various additions. Besides, there is also a version, which comprises details from both legends. The Satanological myth, like other apocryphal legends about angels and demons based upon the Biblical narrative in Coptic literature is developed in two ways: 1) personification of abstract concepts and properties, 2) allegorical interpretation of stories regarding Biblical characters as legends about angels or demons.

Lexical “portraying” of cognitive concepts

The article is devoted to the cognitive emotiological concept of pride. The relevance of the study lies in the fact that the compilation of conceptual lexical “portraits” and their subsequent comparison in different languages will reveal the similarity and difference in the natural language metaphysics of the compared cultures. Developed new author’s technique of “lexical portraying” of the concept determines the novelty of the research. The linguistic material of the research was the data from the corpus dictionaries “British National Corpus (BNC)” and “Russian National Corpus (RNC)” which represent a collection of grammatically marked texts. The first part of the article highlights the relevance of the study, defines the term “emotiological concept”, as well as provides general and specific for this area of research discussion issues from the field of cultural and cognitive linguistics. The authors analyze the interpretation of the term “concept”, the scope and content of this meaning and the ways of its description. The second part of the article is devoted to the study of the cognitions of “a proud man” and “a prideful man”. The authors conclude that the actualization of emotional feelings occurs under the influence of both external (socially conditioned) and internal (psychological) factors – the “provocateurs”. The third part presents the results of the cognitive analysis of the concepts “pride” and “гордость”. To provide this the authors refer to the definition of the realeme (a unit of the given lexical system). The ontogeny of the characterological behavioral qualities of “a proud man” and “a prideful man” is traced, and the amount of semantic and pragmatic information is established. Based on the analysis of the empirical vocabulary data and the considered connotations of lexical units “pride” and “гордость”, the authors propose a new type of “lexical portraying” and provide in the article the sample of one for the concepts “pride” and “гордость”. The developed etymological entry of the concept indicates 1) the cognitive elements of the concept, 2) the socio-cultural elements of the concept, 3) the semantics of the concept and 4) the syntax of the concept. The article dwells on emphasizing the fact that it is the cognitive elements that are universal for both Russian and English, while sociocultural, semantic, and syntactic elements might not always coincide in different natural language metaphysics. In conclusion, the authors summarize the data of the study and outline the promising areas of work in the field of concept science and cognitive linguistics.

Katharine Burdekin and Collective Speech: Politics, Chorus and Liturgy

This paper explores the phenomenon of collective speech (or speaking in unison) in the fiction of Katharine Burdekin (1896–1963), focussing on The Rebel Passion (1929), Proud Man (1934) and Swastika Night (1937) (the latter two novels were initially published under the pseudonym ‘Murray Constantine’). Highlighting Burdekin’s abiding concern with religious rituals, it suggests that the political dimensions of Burdekin’s oeuvre can be profitably read in relation to a set of liturgical debates that go back to the English Reformation. The Book of Common Prayer, which features in some way in all three of these novels, proves a profitable site to focus questions about collective speech, its rituals seeming to model a kind of communal collectivity, but one that was imposed by political force. The negative connotations of collective speech are particularly evident in the Nazi liturgy at the heart of Swastika Night, which combines elements of the prayer book with features of the Nazi Thingspiele. Whereas Proud Man seemed to want to counter enforced rituals of collective belonging with a retooled ‘unselfish individualism’, both Swastika Night and The Rebel Passion seek to mobilise more positive forms of speaking in unison to counter dangerous conformity and authoritarianism. Burdekin even innovates a form of narration that can be referred to as ‘collective interior monologue’, as she explores the relationship between individual consciousness and collective belonging. The paper thus builds on the valuable scholarship of Elizabeth English, Daphne Patai, Glyn Salton-Cox, Adam Stock and Keith Williams, positioning Burdekin as an important and innovative novelist of ideas whose historical, religious and philosophical interests are unusually wide-ranging.

In-Between the Color Lines with a Spy Camera: The Appalachian Urban Folk Photography of Isaiah Rice

In-Between the Color Lines with a Spy CameraThe Appalachian Urban Folk Photography of Isaiah Rice Darin J. Waters (bio), Gene Hyde (bio), and Kenneth Betsalel (bio) "We don't know nothin' but what we see …" —Zora Neale Hurston1 Click for larger view View full resolution Pack Square. All images from the Isaiah Rice Photograph Collection, D.H. Ramsey Library, Special Collections, University of North Carolina at Asheville 28804. Images copyright Darin Waters. [End Page 92] After her mother Jeroline Rice passed in 2003, Marian Waters sorted through boxes of photographs that her father Isaiah Rice had taken over the course of his adult life. Rice, who died in 1980, had taken hundreds of photographs of family, friends, and strangers in his Asheville, North Carolina community. While Waters always knew her father loved photography and would go everywhere with his cameras, she laughed to remember how some people in the community joked that he was like a spy with that tiny camera he owned, even taking it to church on Sundays. He was a proud man who knew how to remain invisible when he needed to take a picture. Waters considered discarding the photos her father had taken of people she did not know, but she shared them first with her son, Darin Waters, a scholar of American and African American history, who immediately recognized the importance of the more than 1,000 vernacular photographs taken by his grandfather. He shared Rice's photographs with Gene Hyde and Ken Betsalel, colleagues at UNC Asheville, who agreed that Rice's photographs provided fresh insight into the unique cultural context of an urban African American community in southern Appalachia. Rice's photographs of Asheville draw some comparisons to other photographers who were working in the city at the same time. The largest and best known Asheville area photographic collection is the E. M. Ball Photographic Collection, which contains the work of professional photographers Ewart M. Ball Sr. and his son Ewart M. Ball Jr., as well as several photographers who worked for the Balls's studio. The Ball Collection, housed in Special Collections at UNC Asheville, contains over 11,000 photos and negatives and includes their work as both contract photojournalists for the local newspaper and as professional studio photographers. Although it documents Asheville over half a century, it contains only a handful of photographs of African Americans. What makes the Rice Collection uniquely valuable is that Isaiah Rice's photographs document a wide range of subjects, from his own Burton Street neighborhood, where he was known as "the picture man," to the wider Asheville communities through which he traveled.2 "there are few negroes"? Isaiah Rice (1917–1980) was born in Asheville, North Carolina, to Theodore and Alberta Rice. A loving family man of deep faith, conviction, and responsibility, he married Asheville native Jeroline Bradley Rice in 1942, and they had one daughter, Marian Waters. He was educated at Stephens-Lee High School and made the best of opportunities available to him, including working for the Works Progress Administration (wpa) during the Great Depression. Rice was drafted into the U.S. Army, and later worked as a beverage deliveryman for a local distributor until his [End Page 93] Click for larger view View full resolution death in 1980. He was well known in the African American community and faced the daily humiliations and limitations of racial prejudice and segregation by creating strong community bonds. Rice made his photographs during the post–World War II era of uneven national economic development, continued racial segregation, the ongoing fight for civil rights and racial equality, and the subsequent years of suburbanization and urban renewal in Asheville. When Rice was taking his photographs during the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, Asheville's African American community constituted a sizeable portion of the city's population. The 1950 Census reports that 12,723 "nonwhite" people lived in urban Asheville, which amounted to 21.8 percent of the city's population. By the 1960 census, the "nonwhite" population was 12,504, or 18.2 percent of the city's population, and by 1970, Asheville's "Negro or other races" population was 10,671, or 18.5 percent...

The Philosophy of Man in M. Gorky’s Play “The Lower Depths”

A new approach to understanding ideological and philosophical structure of M. Gorky's play «The Lower Depths» (1902) is offered in the article. According to the analysis, it is not a dualistic opposition of the concepts of verity or compassion, truth or lie that lies at the heart of the play, but progressive synthesis of the philosophical ideas, formed by the progression from the lowest to the highest. In contrast to the customary dualism, traditional for Russian Gorky's work studies, the triad of Gorky's philosophical ideas paganism - Christianity - a new philosophy that is consistently mediated by the ideas of Platonism, the doctrine of Leo Tolstoy and nietzscheanism is studied in the article. The article studies how the system of characters in Gorky's play has disintegrates into three conventional groups, through which the gradual evolution of formation of Gorky's image of Man is traced. The analysis shows how from the wild human-animals (according to Plato), through religious acceptance of one God (Christ), the characters of the play come to the highest step of the evolutionary ladder - to the Proud Man (following Nietzsche). Each of the Gorky's drama characters embodies a certain stage of ascension: Kvashnya, Nastya and the Baron are wild Plato's human- animals, the Actor and Luka are the representatives of the humanistic ideas of Christianity, mediated by the doctrine of L. Tolstoy, Satine is a premonition of the future ideal Proud Man praised by Gorky. In the course of the play analysis an assumption about who was a real killer of the shelter's owner Kostylоff is made and the interpretation of ambiguous final words of the play is offered.

A Tale of Two Books: A Forgotten Story and Things Fall Apart

A short while later, perhaps a week, perhaps two weeks after reading that book whose title Christmas has forgotten, serendipity throws Achebe’s Things Fall Apart into her path. Reading it is like a spiritual experience. She will recognize later, when she is older and wiser, how it saves her. This book tells the story of a civilization and a community completely disrupted by the coming of the white man. Its protagonist, Okonkwo, is a warrior, a proud man whose life is completely ruined by the clash of civilizations that is brought by the English colonizers. For the first time in her life, she reads a book that shows her ancestors’ history does not begin with colonization, that her people had a world that was complete on its own, a world that did not seek validity outside of its own community. For the first time, colonization was presented as an intrusion, and not as something she ought to be grateful for.

Ethical Transformations in Yan's 陆犯焉识 (The Criminal Lu Yanshi)

In her article "Ethical Transformations in Yan's陆犯焉识 (The Criminal Lu Yanshi)" Weihong Zhu uses ethical literary criticism to explain the reason for the change in attitude which the novel's hero undergoes. Zhu argues that in Geling Yan's novel the turning point lies in the protagonist's realization of his inner "animal" factor. Subjected to severe tests by the extreme circumstances in a northwest prison in China, this realization helps him transform from a proud man to a humble human being, so that he learns to love his family. Although set in a grand historical background of important political events, Yan's novel The Criminal Lu Yanshi is not political. Disguised under a romantic story is a serious inquiry into the nature of humanity.

Lesbian Modernism: Censorship, Sexuality and Genre Fiction by Elizabeth English (review)

Reviewed by: Lesbian Modernism: Censorship, Sexuality and Genre Fiction by Elizabeth English Christina Stevenson Lesbian Modernism: Censorship, Sexuality and Genre Fiction. Elizabeth English. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2015. Pp. ix + 220. $120.00 (cloth). The highly-publicized 1928 obscenity trial of Radclyffe Hall’s The Well of Loneliness molded into recognizable form the figure of the lesbian. The image of the female invert, whose presence had gone largely unremarked by all but the most observant—stoking the paranoia of men like Marcel Proust’s narrator in À la recherche du temps perdu, who feared the influence of “Gomorrah” to be lurking among any crowd of women—lodged itself into pop-cultural consciousness following the trial. A masculine soul in a female body, the lesbian was not simply a woman who loved other women but was detectable by the apparent manliness of her gait, gestures, and dress. With her tailored suits and neckties, The Well of Loneliness’s Stephen Gordon, along with Hall herself, was elevated as a lesbian icon, equally reviled and revered. Elizabeth English examines the literary aftermath of the trial and subsequent banning of Hall’s novel in Lesbian Modernism, which argues that, once the lesbian became an identifiable and objectionable figure, writers turned to genre fiction to more freely express and explore lesbian desire. English notes that one of the distinguishing features of the realist novel The Well of Loneliness is, arguably, the quality of its writing. In fact, defenders of the book declared that it should be saved based solely on its literary merits. In his judgment, however, Magistrate Sir Chartres Biron points to these very merits as the reason behind its censorship: “It must appear to everyone of intelligence that the better an obscene book is written, the greater is the public to whom it is likely to appeal. The more palatable the poison, the more insidious it is.” Since the esteemed designation of “literature” failed to save Hall—as it had previously failed James Joyce and D. H. Lawrence—from the moral outrage of the court, other writers sought refuge in genre fiction, which offered them the “maneuverability and freedom to explore dangerous topics” (16). [End Page 837] English’s book is divided into three parts, each dedicated to exploring a particular genre—fantasy, history, crime—in order to argue that genre fiction provided a space and a language for “writing the lesbian” and for “navigating” the socio-cultural landscape of the modernist era. English often uses metaphors of navigation and exploration to illustrate how genre fiction maps out a course for writers to follow—or deviate from—in a manner that provides its readers with the comfort of predictability while arousing them with tales of dangerous or spectral lesbians. Examining canonical modernist authors, including Virginia Woolf and Gertrude Stein, alongside non-canonical or mainstream women writers—including Katharine Burdekin, Natalie Clifford Barney, Margaret Goldsmith, Mary Gordon, Dorothy L. Sayers, Gladys Mitchell, and Josephine Tey—English argues for straining the autonomy of “modernism” as simply designating a style of formalist experimentation. Instead, she pushes us to consider modernist content as that which questions and undermines heteronormative kinship practices and could be voiced as strongly by a crime novel as it could by an avant-garde tract. Part 1, “Fantasy,” begins by studying the utopian works of Katharine Burdekin (1896–1963), a British fantasy writer who wrote under the pseudonym Murray Constantine. English turns to her unpublished writing and letters, including correspondence with British psychoanalyst Havelock Ellis, to explore how, in The Rebel Passion (1929), Proud Man (1934), and The End of This Day’s Business (1989), the discourse of sexology and its construction of the sexual invert informs Burdekin’s vision of utopian identities. Hailing from more enlightened futures, Burdekin’s hero(in)es suggest the mannish women of Ellis’s writings on inversion and are consequently “elevated above the throng of (heterosexual) humanity by his or her heterodox nature” (49). Just as Burdekin uses the utopian genre and its positing of a future to make sense of the present, the fantastic text of Natalie Clifford Barney, The One Who Is Legion: or A.D.’s Afterlife, uses the conventions of the supernatural genre and...

The Silent Era in Australian Cinema

The article focuses on the first period in the history of Australian cinema. It is well-known that the present is always rooted in the past. This is true of any national cinema, and the Australian one is no exception. This subject is relevant in the light of the fact that, in the first place, the reasons for the contemporary boom in Australian cinema are impossible to understand and analyze unless they are derived from the awareness of the first steps of Australian cinema. It was in the very first years of the existence of Australian cinema that there emerged a special worldview, inherent in the cinematographic messages of this nation, that would later become iconic of Australian cinema: addressing the reality of Australia, love for its wild and beautiful nature and for the people who civilize this severe land. In their works the filmmakers of the Green Continent have almost always unflaggingly introduced two protagonists, an animate one, a manly, daring human being, and an inanimate one, the nature, magnificent, powerful, unexplored... At the same time, there was formed an image of a Hero: a fair, proud man, for whom honor and dignity are closely linked to striving for freedom. A conflict between the Individual and a soulless system is manifested in the early bushranger films and in the contemporary ones alike, now that the films by the Australian filmmakers come out again and again featuring the Individuals attempts at breaking his bondage. The novelty of this research lies in the fact that while the contemporary period of Australian cinema is well-covered in the global film criticism, the past of this national cinema is almost unknown. Considering the interest in the phenomenon of the contemporary cinema of the Green Continent, the author concludes that the global success of the Australian films today is largely linked to the accomplishments of the cinema pioneers, who against tough competition from American and English films, have laid a foundation for the future victories of this special national cinema.

A Christian Boy and a Proud Man of Color

A Christian Boy and a Proud Man of Color

Survival Artist, A Memoir of the Holocaust (review)

Reviewed by: Survival Artist, A Memoir of the Holocaust John S. Schuchman (bio) Eugene Bergman, Survival Artist, A Memoir of the Holocaust (Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland & Company, 2009, 204 pp., paper, $35, ISBN 978-0-7864-4134-1) Eugene Bergman's Survival Artist is a personal account of his family's Holocaust experience. Although Bergman, a retired Gallaudet professor, is a deaf individual, he did not encounter deaf people or deaf culture until his arrival in the United States after World War II. He became deaf at the age of nine as the result of an attack by a soldier shortly after Germany invaded Poland in September 1939. Unfamiliar with deafness, his family later employed a Jewish-German refugee speech teacher to teach the young boy how to lipread even though Bergman spoke only Polish and Yiddish, both of which were unknown to the teacher. Needless to say, the lessons failed. Throughout the war years, the young Bergman only could lipread and understand the words of his older brother, Bronek. Since his survival often depended on it, Bergman became an astute observer of people in order to understand the awful milieu that was the Holocaust. At the outset, I should point out that Eugene Bergman and I were faculty colleagues at Gallaudet, and I have heard a few of his public presentations about the Holocaust. In those limited presentations, he has referred to the rifle butt to his head that caused his deafness and his efforts to avoid detection of his circumcision as a Jew when asked to drop his pants. I am glad that he has decided to offer up a more complete memoir of his experience. He is a justifiably proud man and his story of survival and personal achievement is worth reading. [End Page 382] Survival Artist is the account of one family's "survival" of the war years, 1939–1945. The family consisted of his parents, Eugene, and his older brothers Bronek and Dadek. They stayed together as a family unit until the Warsaw Uprising in August 1944 when German soldiers murdered his father and eldest brother Dadek. Professor Bergman has written his memoir based on secondary sources as well as the recollections of his brother Bronek and himself. Fluent in both Polish and Yiddish, the family members masked their Jewish identities and pretended to be Polish Christians. Bergman often refers to the physical characteristics of being "blonde and blueeyed," not Jewish-looking. Combined with their mastery of the Polish language, they survived while their father used his experience and skills as a small business entrepreneur to find food and lodging for the family. Originally from Poznan in western Poland, the family sought refuge from round-ups and deportation to the concentration camps in the East. They moved to Jewish ghettos in Lodz, Warsaw, Czestochowa, and then back to Warsaw. They finally moved out of the ghetto into the central part of Warsaw where they survived for two years until the Warsaw Uprising. Throughout this period, Bergman's father lived outside the ghetto and posed as a Polish businessman where he traveled and traded to find food and money for his family. Although constantly exposed to the cruelty and anti-Semitism of both German soldiers and the native Polish population, the young Bergman managed to educate himself. He describes his older brother Bronek as street smart and his eldest brother Dadek as an intellectual. Bergman incorporated both into his education. He wandered the streets where he learned not to look Jewish when necessary and to avoid danger despite his hearing loss. And he read books. Following the lead of Dadek, he developed what would become his life-long love for literature and philosophy. The memoir is replete with literary and cinematic references. Though proud of his Polish intellectual heritage, Bergman graphically describes the cruel anti-Semitism of his Christian neighbors. Aware of the dichotomy of so many impoverished starving Jews in the ghetto and his own family's ability to obtain what it needed to survive through money, bribes, and plain luck, Bergman survived. With [End Page 383] the Warsaw Uprising, the family unit came to an end. Bronek and Eugene were away when the Germans...

Teaching Supportive Psychotherapy to Psychiatric Residents

"Mr. A" is a 45-year-old married teacher pursuing a doctorate in education at a local university. Although he completed the course work without difficulty, he feels "stuck" and unable to move ahead with his dissertation. In this setting, his chronic, low-grade depression has worsened and now includes profound feelings of humiliation, despair, and hopelessness, near-panic-like anxiety, insomnia, and trouble functioning at his teaching job. His wife urges him to get help after he begins to talk about an impulse to jump from their balcony. Mr. A went through a period of depression, heavy drinking, and narcotics addiction in his early 20s, after a sports-related injury forced him to drop out of college. He was referred to a psychiatrist but felt the psychotherapy had been "too openended" and "a waste of time and money." With his wife's support, he managed to stop drinking and using narcotics and has remained sober ever since. He went on to become a valued high school teacher and coach, receiving several medals for excellence in teaching. Later he was awarded a full scholarship to an Ivy League university, where he earned a master's degree in education. Asked about any other events in his life that may have contributed to his current depression, Mr. A mentions that his father was a heavy drinker who used to chase him around the house with a loaded gun when drunk. The father was diagnosed with cancer shortly after Mr. A started the doctoral program and died after a brief illness, during which Mr. A lived with and helped care for him. The second-year resident to whom Mr. A has been assigned admits to her supervisor that she is already having a "sinking feeling" about Mr. A. He says he is too depressed to talk about his future, much less make any important decisions about his life. He is also reporting debilitating side effects from the antidepressant she has prescribed and has warned her that he is "sensitive" to most drugs. The resident describes him as "not just stuck, but sticky-I feel like I'm wading in molasses." She finds herself wanting to end sessions early but tends to run late because of his last-minute reports of alarming physical symptoms or fleeting thoughts about "blowing his brains out." The resident has noticed that although Mr. A is relentless in his protestations of worthlessness, he likes to wear a sweatshirt from the Ivy League school he attended, and he enjoys acting as an auxiliary therapist in groups-"a pretty good one, too." The resident adds ruefully, "I guess he just needs support, but we haven't had that course yet. What do you suggest?".

Mythologizing Shane O'Neill

Linington's claim was patently untrue; numerous versions of O'Neill's predated her own. Even before his untimely death at the hands of the Scots MacDonnells in 1567, Shane O'Neill's life was entering romanticized accounts; such early historians as William Camden (1625) and Edmund Campion (1571) may claim to draw on eyewitness accounts, but the tellings are highly colored? as indeed, are many of the State Papers,2 Almost forty years before Linington's novel, in The History of Ulster, Ramsay Colles lamented that Shane O'Neill, despite his dramatic and determinative life, had never been the subject of a work of fiction. He, too, was wrong.2 Linington's admission that The Proud Man is a story and not an historical rendering is an attempt to free her book from some of the constraints of verac ity. It also identifies her as successor to myriad writers over the centuries who

Byron's 'Deluge': Heaven and Earth

Until George Steiner and a handful of late twentieth-century critics and writers on theatre began to question long-repeated assertions about the failure of Byron's late plays as actable scripts, reviews tended to write off his second 'mystery', Heaven and Earth, as a slighter, if rather less contentious drama than its immediate precursor, Cain (also subtitled 'A Mystery'),1 and as a marginally less absurd production than its late successor, The Deformed Transformed (performed in 1970 by the Triple Action Theatre company in the UK under the direction of Steven Rumbelow).2 Heaven and Earth is a more daring work than Cain in its free-ranging verse experimentation, and in its protoexistentialist focus on the dilemma of a sensitive human unable to act out of a conviction that all action is futile. Cain presented the Old Testament's first family on earth in debate upon the purpose of life, the function of the will and the goodness of the deity and his preference in the matter of sacrifice. The drama is thus a 'Morality' as well as a 'Mystery'. In the face of the disappointing critical reception of Cain, Byron persisted in urging the publication of Heaven and Earth, so we can ask why he had such regard for a work whose theology and more problematic form could invite further rejection. Byron had not finished with the exploration of tendencies of thought that had provoked the protagonist of Cain to commit the first murder. While Byron could flippantly claim that he had Cain kill Abel 'that he might not have the bore of passing 200 years with him',3 he provided his publisher with a more compelling rationale for Cain's action: Cain is a proud man - if Lucifer promised him kingdoms c Cain, though, has been made painfully aware, through revelation of his infinitesimal stature in the scheme of things, of the bounds of human endeavour. Thematically, the play rehearses the pervasive concern with the limits of freedom that characterised Childe Harold III and IV, Don Juan and the earlier dramatic works where, as in Heaven and Earth, Byron portrayed individuals tragically (and at times comically) pitching their wills against orthodox beliefs and structures. …

Tradurre per il doppiaggio: La trasposizione linguistica dell'audiovisivo. Teoria e pratica di un'arte imperfetta by Mario Paolinelli, Eleonora Di Fortunato

MLR, I01.3, 2oo6 871 novels have much in common? Is there only one well-defined crisis in Italy at the end of the First World War? Is that crisis (or are those crises) specific to that period? In Giudicetti's opinion, Moravia, Pirandello, and Svevo do express a distinctive crisis (their characters are lost in aworld where no certainty is left, and only a plurality of points of view is possible); Borgese, he adds, is beyond that: his characters 'sono immersi in una crisi personale profonda [... .]ma, per l'appunto, i libri di narrativa di Borgese offrono una replica alla crisi' (p. i6). According to Giudicetti, Borgese has a consistent philosophical view of the world, a spiritual answer that supersedes the multiplicity of possible answers (pp. 223-25). Giudicetti's thesis iswell argued. I still wonder whether a plurality of points of view is necessarily the manifestation of a crisis, and have the impression that Borgese was after all a spiritual seeker, rather than a firm believer. But words such as crisis, belief, and religion have several, sometimes contradictory, meanings; and further discussion is needed to clarify them in aBorgesian context. Borgese was a proud man, exceedingly self-confident, and difficult to deal with; his obstinate feud with Benedetto Croce lasted for forty years, left him few friends, and was ultimately fruitless. He was, on the other hand, a fascinating and thought provoking writer. By examining some of his best texts, and analysing their most effective passages, Giudicetti shows once again how rewarding it is to read his books. UNIVERSITYOFEXETER LUcIANO PARISI Tradurre per il doppiaggio: la trasposizione linguistica dell'audiovisivo. Teoria epratica di un'arte imperfetta. By MARIO PAOLINELLI and ELEONORA Di FORTUNATO. Milan: Hoepli. 2005. i63 pp. E19. ISBN 88-203-3385-6. Tradurre per il doppiaggio explains the translation strategies and the linguistic issues involved in the dubbing process. Divided into four chapters and three appendices (an Italian contract for dubbing workers, a section on legal guidelines for standard wages, and an open letter to film authors), this study is concerned with diverse aspects of translation studies and Italian culture while introducing the form of translation called 'adaptation', a term which includes all the procedures involved in translating audiovisual scripts for the purpose of dubbing them. The first chapter contextualizes the development of dubbing in Italy, clarifies the terminology and the functional roles of those involved in the process ('translator adaptor', dialogist, actor-dubber); it situates 'adaptation' within translation studies and analyses the impact of dubbing on Italian culture. The authors demonstrate how Hollywood 'majors' not only imposed dubbing internationally, but also how arbitrarily they justify their refusal to dub audiovisuals into English. Tradurre per il doppiaggio deals with this key issue, supporting the authors' position with statistical data, provided by external bodies that record figures on the international circulation of audiovisual materials. From this perspective, the current, unilateralist approach to dubbing has contributed to a problematic stasis in European film industries; whereas translation is amediation, the refusal of 'adaptation' has paradoxically become a socio-cultural barrier. The case study presented in the second chapter, 'La pratica dell'adattamento', explains translation strategies in use. Its effective description allows a straightfor ward comparison between the source text, Tarantino's Yackie Brown (I997) and the target text 'adapted' by Paolinelli. The authors explain how 'adaptations' reinforce the visual and aesthetic effects of the projected scene in contrast to subtitling. Thus, compared to the constraints of text translation, 'adaptation' must respect even more parameters-lip and body synchrony, delivery timing, and acting-so as not to under mine the visual effects. Moving from the individual case study to the broader context, 872 Reviews the third chapter, 'La situazione del doppiaggio', focuses on professional issues of dubbing within the Italian context. This analysis could also interest scholars of film studies. While describing the current situation as discouraging but slowly improving, this section discusses how legal issues concerned with the profession have been re cently resolved or directed towards a solution. The grey area of translator-adaptor's copyrights is clarified while providing information on wages, contract clauses, and acts defending intellectual labour. The last chapter effectively deals with dubbing as...

Does pride have a recognizable expression?

In 1872, Darwin speculated that emotion expressions in humans and animals are evolved products of natural selection. He argued that a number of emotion expressions are universal, and he wrote, “Of all the ... complex emotions, pride, perhaps, is the most plainly expressed. A proud man exhibits his sense of superiority over others by holding his head and body erect ... and makes himself appear as large as possible” (p. 263).1 Although contemporary emotion researchers have supported Darwin’s general speculation by identifying discrete, universally recognized facial expressions for a small set of “basic” emotions (e.g., ref. 2), they have not found a distinct nonverbal expression for pride. In fact, because happiness is the only positively valenced emotion thought to have a discrete, nonverbal expression, researchers have concluded that all positive emotions share the same expression.3,4 The finding that pride has a unique, identifiable expression would challenge this assumption, suggest that pride meets a central criterion for biologically based emotions, and imply that pride may have evolved to serve a particular communicative function—possibly to convey success and thereby promote status and dominance. In this paper, we summarize findings from five studies that test whether pride has a distinct, recognizable, behaviorally visible expression (see FIG. 1). In study 1, 56 judges viewed photographs of male and female targets posing expressions of happiness, pride, and surprise and were asked to identify the emotion expressed in each photo. Judges chose from these options: “happiness,” “pride,” “surprise,” and “no emotion.” The results show that

The Fun of Volunteering: An Allegory

Tom was good as an engineer and researcher, and he knew it. He was proud of his analytical and problem-solving abilities (under his facade of humility), and that is why he had chosen to focus on signal processing. And, of course, he was quite ambitious. Tom’s dream was to distinguish himself in his profession. He enjoyed the technical part of his work, no question about it, but what would be wrong with combining this fun with some admiration from his colleagues? Take, for instance, the president of his Society. The President’s Column usually bored him to death, but wouldn’t it be nice to have his picture in the magazine like the president? Tom felt that it must be quite powerful to be president of the Society. But how do you go about becoming more prominent in the eyes of your peers? Tom’s break came. He was approached by an officer of the local IEEE Section, who was looking for someone to spearhead the creation of a local Chapter of the Society. That would certainly put the spotlight on him. Just imagine, “cofounder of the local Chapter….” And it would certainly look good on his resume. Tom accepted immediately and started working hard. He and his covolunteers had to do all sorts of things: they had to contact IEEE for information and paperwork, approach other local Society members for signatures, and, after securing the approval for the new Chapter, spend quite a long time making plans for the activities of the Chapter. They had to invite speakers, prepare the announcements, and do the mailing. When the presentation time came, they had to host the speakers and make sure that all the logistics were taken care of. Tom was a proud man, and he worked diligently to make sure that everything was done properly. Yes, his colleagues were coming to him now to ask questions, offer suggestions, volunteer, or even complain about the program. This was the spotlight, right? But Tom also started discovering some other interesting things. During the long hours of planning and work with his covolunteers, he developed friendships with some very nice people. Before, he had some casual conversations with them, but now he was finding that they were wittier than he had thought; they had some very interesting technical insights that occasionally raised his eyebrows; and they gave him ideas on how to do his job more effectively. When he attended the Society’s annual international conference, these colleagues introduced him to other people, sometimes famous authors of papers and books that he was using as references. He hadn’t known about this perk of volunteering. On occasion, he would come across someone on his volun