Journal articles on the topic 'Indian authored novel'

Bankim Chandra Chatterjee(1838–94) is widely recognized as one of the preeminent novelists of nineteenth-century India. A literary forerunner of the much-celebrated Rabindranath Tagore, he authored fourteen Bengali novels which set the benchmark for Bengal's foray into novelistic territory. Bankim acquired national and international repute over the course of his lifetime, and not only were his novels translated into other Indian languages over the course of the nineteenth century, but translations of his work also appeared in Russia from as early as the 1870s (Novikova ii). While Bankim's fame rests on the strength of his Bengali writings multiply translated as they were, his first novel,Rajmohan's Wife(1864), was written in English. Interestingly,Rajmohan's Wife, usually considered the first Indian novel in English, is now seldom read, a neglect replicating the scant attention that the novel garnered when it was first serialized in the 1860s.

The recognizable formal structure of tommy orange's there there and its familiar revelations about indigenous american life, as much as the components distinguishing the novel from other Native-authored works that share its concerns, have propelled it to the center of conversations about contemporary Native literature. Yet the excitement about the arrival of a new, talented writer has obscured There There's roots in American Indian literary history, especially its affiliations with novels by other Native authors. As the numerous images of characters in mirrors and other reflective surfaces suggest, Orange establishes Indigenous people looking at Indigenous people, and Indigenous authors looking at Indigenous authors, as foundational to the novel's form. There There reflects the work of many other Native fiction writers, most prominently Sherman Alexie, but also James Welch, N. Scott Momaday, and David Treuer, among others. He evokes the formal features of many of Louise Erdrich's novels, too, but unlike Erdrich, Orange leaves readers with the overwhelming impression of irrevocably damaged Indigenous communities with dismal prospects for breaking cycles of violence and trauma.

What led Prof Prabhat Patnaik, Pope at Vatican City and Dr Raghuram Rajan to a rallying point for the recovery and sustainability of the Global Capitalism from its shivering crisis? It's Karl Marx's 'Capital' ('Das Kapital'). Literature Review of Miners' plight in Indian Literature. World's top ten mine disasters in which two happened in India - Dhanbad and Chasnala. ' Kaala Pathar' Hindi film was based on Chasnala mining disaster. Nationalisation of Indian Coal Industry thanks to Indian coal miners' continuous struggles. Introduction of Ku.Chinnappa Bharathi, Tamil writer, who authored 'Surangam' Tamil novel. How did the idea of writing 'Surangam' come to Ku. Chinnappa Bharathi's mind? Shri Bikas Chowdhury, CPI-M MP from Asansol Constituency, invited the writer to pay a visit to Dhanbad, Jharia and Asansol mines, to study the plight and living standards of the workers to attempt a novel on this theme. KuChiBha. accepted the offer. The conversation with the miners with the help of interpreters, contributed a lot to visualize the air. Plot of Surangam. The category of workers and the hierarchy of supervisors. Bikas Choudhary, Jamuna Kumari, Sakuntala Devi, Mining Munshi, Mining Sardar, Mine owner Tiwari, organised workers, drunkard-workers, Debt recovery agents, liquor shop-owner, villagers, peasants and the like. The greed of inhuman mine-owners and supervisors is portrayed the customs and cultural events of Bengalis and the tenets of humanitarian Marxist Atheism are briefed. How the novel observes the genre of Socialist Realism, with the Marxist point of view, is well-presented. The denationalisation of the Coal Industry, with the repeal of Mining Nationalisation Acts, will again unleash the exploitation of private owners in the coal industry. The case-study of ' Surangam ' to explore the livelihood of the miners in non-Tamil speaking areas to write a novel in Tamil, for being translated further into Bengali and Hindi, is a laudable attempt and a great literary venture.

The purpose of the study is to analyze the presentation of egalitarianism in traditional and modern world as colored by the hands of the woman writer Manju Kapur in her work Brothers. It foregrounds the relationship between the real world and the fictional world of women which is more or less the same. The chief finding is that the present life of women has a turn and development when compared to the previous generation, but the hidden complexity burst out at certain stage which proves that the convention is still prevailing. The study can help the readers to see the real world through writings and can understand and read the mind of women who suffer from sexual harassment, patriarchal dominance, in due time of optimistic life of fulfilled desires and courage of modern women. This article excerpts the proposed gender study and presents the gender discrimination of two generations portrayed by the writer which clearly exposes the deep variation as well as the oneness, and results in the projection of the real world in words. The positive changes in women’s lives and the sexual deviations too have been discussed. This study focuses on the traditional and modern livelihood of male and female through the novel Brothers authored by Manju Kapur, a well-known Indian women writer.

IntroductionIndian Literature with its multiplicity of languages and the plurality of cultures dates back to 3000 years ago, comprising Vedas, Upanishads, Puranas and Epics like Ramayana and Mahabharata. India has a strong literary tradition in various Indian regional languages like Sanskrit, Prakrit, Pali, Hindi, Marathi, Bengali, Oriya, Tamil, Kannada, Telugu, Malayalam and so on. Indian writers share oral tradition, indigenous experiences and reflect on the history, culture and society in regional languages as well as in English. The first Indian novel in English is Bankim Chandra Chatterjee’s Rajmohan’s Wife (1864). Indian Writing in English can be viewed in three phases - Imitative, First and Second poets’ phases. The 20th century marks the matrix of indigenous novels. The novels such as Mulk Raj Anand’s Untouchable (1935), Anita Nair’s Ladies Coupé (2001), and Khuswant Singh’s Memories of Madness: Stories of 1947 (2002) depict social issues, vices and crises (discrimination, injustice, violence against women) in India. Indian writers, and their contribution to world literature, are popular in India and abroad.Researchers are keen on analysing the works of Indian writers from historical, cultural, social perspectives and on literary theories (Post-Colonialism, Postmodernity, Cultural Studies). The enormity of the cultural diversity in India is reflected in Indian novels, plays, dramas, short stories and poems. This collection of articles attempts to capture the diversity of the Indian land/culture/landscape. It focuses on the history of India, partition, women’s voices, culture and society, and science and technology in Indian narratives, documentaries and movies.Special Issue: An Overview“Whatever has happened, has happened for goodWhatever is happening, is also for goodWhatever will happen, shall also be good.”- The Bhagavad-Gita.In the Mahabharata’s Kurukshetra battlefield, Lord Krishna counsels Arjuna on how everything that happens, regardless of whether it is good or bad, happens for a reason.Indian Literature: Past, Present and Future portrays the glorious/not-so-glorious times in history, the ever-changing crisis/peace of contemporary and hope for an unpredictable future through India’s literary and visual narratives. It focuses on comparison across cultures, technological advancements and diverse perspectives or approaches through the work of art produced in/on India. It projects India’s flora, fauna, historical monuments and rich cultural heritage. It illustrates how certain beliefs and practices come into existence – origin, evolution and present structure from a historical perspective. Indian Literature: Past, Present and Future gives a moment to recall, rectify and raise to make a promising future. This collection attempts to interpret various literary and visual narratives which are relevant at present.The Epics Reinterpreted: Highlighting Feminist Issues While Sustaining Deep Motif, examines the Women characters in the Epics – Ramayana and Mahabharata. It links the present setting to the violence against women described in the Epics Carl Jung’s archetypes are highlighted in a few chosen characters (Sita, Amba, Draupati). On one note, it emphasises the need for women to rise and fight for their rights.Fictive Testimony and Genre Tension: A Study of ‘Functionality’ of Genre in Manto’s Toba Tek Singh, analyses the story as a testimony and Manto as a witness. It discusses the ‘Testimony and Fictive Testimony’ in Literature. It explains how the works are segregated into a particular genre. The authors conclude that the testimony is to be used to understand or identify with the terror.Tangible Heritage and Intangible Memory: (Coping) Precarity in the select Partition writings by Muslim Women, explores the predicament of women during the Partition of India through Mumtaz Shah Nawaz’s The Heart Divided (1990) and Attia Hosain’s Sunlight on a Broken Column (2009). It addresses ‘Feminist Geography’ to escape precarity. It depicts a woman who is cut off from her own ethnic or religious group and tries to conjure up her memories as a means of coping with loneliness and insecurity.Nation Building Media Narratives and its Anti-Ecological Roots: An Eco-Aesthetic Analysis of Khushwant Singh’s Train to Pakistan, analyses the post-Partition trauma in the fictional village, Mano Majra. It illustrates the cultural and spiritual bond between Mano Majrans — the inhabitants of Mano Majra — and nature (the land and river). It demonstrates how the media constructs broad myths about culture, religion, and nation. According to the authors, Mano Majrans place a high value on the environment, whilst the other boundaries are more concerned with nationalism and religion.Pain and Hopelessness among Indian Farmers: An Analysis of Deepa Bhatia’s Nero’s Guests documents the farmers’ suicides in India as a result of debt and decreased crop yield. The travels of Sainath and his encounters with the relatives of missing farmers have been chronicled in the documentary Nero’s Guests. It uses the Three Step Theory developed by David Klonsky and Alexis May and discusses suicide as a significant social issue. The authors conclude that farmers are the foundation of the Indian economy and that without them, India’s economy would collapse. It is therefore everyone’s responsibility—the people and the government—to give farmers hope so that they can overcome suicidal thoughts.The link between animals and children in various cultures is discussed in The New Sociology of Childhood: Animal Representations in Leslie Marmon Silko’s Garden in the Dunes, Amazon’s Oh My Dog, and Netflix’s Mughizh: A Cross-Cultural Analysis. It examines the chosen works from the perspectives of cross-cultural psychology and the New Sociology of Childhood. It emphasises kids as self-sufficient, engaged, and future members of society. It emphasises universal traits that apply to all people, regardless of culture. It acknowledges anthropomorphized cartoons create a bond between kids and animals.Life in Hiding: Censorship Challenges faced by Salman Rushdie and Perumal Murugan, explores the issues sparked by their writings. It draws attention to the aggression and concerns that were forced on them by the particular sect of society. It explains the writers’ experiences with the fatwa, court case, exile, and trauma.Female Body as the ‘Other’: Rituals and Biotechnical Approach using Perumal Murugan’s One Part Woman and Matrubhoomi: A Nation Without Women, questions the society that limits female bodies for procreation and objectification. It talks about how men and women are regarded differently, as well as the cultural ideals that apply to women. It explains infertility, which is attributed to women, as well as people’s ignorance and refusal to seek medical help in favour of adhering to traditional customs and engaging in numerous rituals for procreation.Life and (non) Living: Technological and Human Conglomeration in Android Kunjappan Version 5.25, explores how cyborgs and people will inevitably interact in the Malayalam film Android Kunjappan Version 5.25. It demonstrates the advantages, adaptability, and drawbacks of cyborgs in daily life. It emphasises how the cyborg absorbs cultural and religious notions. The authors argue that cyborgs are an inevitable development in the world and that until the flaws are fixed, humans must approach cyborgs with caution. The Challenges of Using Machine Translation While Translating Polysemous Words, discusses the difficulty of using machine translation to translate polysemous words from French to English (Google Translate). It serves as an example of how the machine chooses the formal or often-used meaning rather than the pragmatic meaning and applies it in every situation. It demonstrates how Machine Translation is unable to understand the pragmatic meaning of Polysemous terms because it is ignorant of the cultures of the source and target languages. It implies that Machine Translation will become extremely beneficial and user-friendly if the flaws are fixed.This collection of articles progresses through the literary and visual narratives of India that range from historical events to contemporary situations. It aims to record the stories that are silenced and untold through writing, film, and other forms of art. India’s artistic output was influenced by factors such as independence, partition, the Kashmir crisis, the Northeast Insurgency, marginalisation, religious disputes, environmental awareness, technical breakthroughs, Bollywood, and the Indian film industry. India now reflects a multitude of cultures and customs as a result of these occurrences. As we examine the Indian narratives produced to date, we can draw the conclusion that India has a vast array of tales to share with the rest of the world.Guest Editorial BoardGuest Editor-in-ChiefDr. Bhuvaneswari R, Associate Professor, School of Social Sciences and Languages, Vellore Institute of Technology, Chennai. She has pursued her master’s at the University of Madras, Chennai and doctoral research at HNB Central University, Srinagar. Her research areas of interest are ELT, Children/Young Adult Literature, Canadian writings, Indian literature, and Contemporary Fiction. She is passionate about environmental humanities. She has authored and co-authored articles in National and International Journals.Guest EditorsCynthiya Rose J S, Assistant Professor (Jr.), School of Social Sciences and Languages, Vellore Institute of Technology, Chennai. Her research interests are Children’s Literature, Indian Literature and Graphic Novels.Maria Baptist S, Assistant Professor (Jr.), School of Social Sciences and Languages, Vellore Institute of Technology, Chennai. His research interests include Crime/Detective fiction and Indian Literature.MembersDr. Sufina K, School of Science and Humanities, Sathyabama Institute of Science and Technology, Chennai, IndiaDr. Narendiran S, Department of Science and Humanities, St. Joseph’s Institute of Technology, Chennai, India

The commented translation of a chapter from the Chāṅgiā rukh (Against the Night) autobiography (2002) by Balbir Madhopuri, a renowned Indian writer, poet, translator, journalist, and social activist, brings forward episodes from the life of Dalit inhabitants of a Punjab village in the 1960–1970s. Following the school of hard knocks of his childhood in the chamar quarter of Madhopur, a village in Jalandhar district, Balbir Madhopuri managed to receive a good education and take to literature. He has authored 14 books, including three volumes of poetry, translated 36 pieces of world literary classics into Punjabi, his mother language, and edited 44 books in Punjabi. In 2014, he was awarded the Translation Prize from India’s Sahitya Academy for his contribution to the development and promotion of Punjabi. His new fiction novel Miṭṭī bol paī (Earth Has Spoken, 2020) focuses on the struggle of downtrodden Punjabis for their human rights and the ad-dharam movement in the North of India in the 1920–1940s. Narrating his autobiography, Balbir Madhopuri shares memories, thoughts, and emotions from childhood and youth days that determined his motivations to struggle against poverty, deprivation, and injustice. The chapter Tikḍe šīše kī vyathā (The Tale of the Cracked Mirror [Madhopuri, 2010]) tells readers about the everyday life of Madhopur, complicated relationships between the village inhabitants, as well as about the destinies of low-caste Punjabis. Memories of joys and sorrows, hopes and fears of the childhood years go side by side with Balbir Madhopuri’s reflections on social oppression and caste inequality that remain in contemporary India’s society.

The commented translation of a chapter from the Chāṅgiā rukh (Against the Night) autobiography (2002) by Balbir Madhopuri, a renowned Indian writer, poet, translator, journalist, and social activist, brings forward episodes from the life of Dalit inhabitants of a Punjab village in the 1960–1970s (Pic. 1, 2, 3). Following the school of hard knocks of his childhood in the chamar quarter of Madhopur, a village in Jalandhar district, Balbir Madhopuri managed to receive a good education and take to literature. He has authored 14 books including three volumes of poetry, translated 36 pieces of world literary classics into Punjabi, his mother language, and edited 44 books in Punjabi. In 2014, he was awarded the Translation Prize from India’s Sahitya Academy for his contribution to the development and promotion of Punjabi. His new fiction novel Miṭṭī bol paī (Earth Has Spoken, 2020) focuses on the struggle of downtrodden Punjabis for their human rights and the ad-dharam movement in the North of India in the 1920–1940s. This novel brought him a prestigious international award for excellence in Punjabi fiction, the Dhahan Prize, in 2021. Narrating his autobiography, Balbir Madhopuri shares memories, thoughts, and emotions from childhood and youth days that determined his motivations to struggle against poverty, deprivation, and injustice. The first of the two translated chapters, Dillī ke lie ravāngī (Departure for Delhi [Madhopuri, 2010], describes the atmosphere of the 1980s — the times of an undeclared terrorist war in Punjab when Sikh secessionists struggled for establishing an independent Khalistan state in India. Looting, raping, killing, setting off bombs in buses and trains, and taking civilian hostages became a sad reality that forced many Punjabis to leave their homes forever. In the final chapter of the book, Kirāyedārī kī lānat (Being a Tenant), Balbir Madhopuri reflects on the issues of social oppression and caste inequality that remain in the contemporary society and tells readers about the most difficult initial period of his life in India’s cosmopolitan capital.

the social conditions of Indians as Native Americans for the treatment of white people who are immigrants from Europe in America. This research explores aspects of the reality of Indian relations with European immigrants in America that have an impact on discriminatory actions against Indians in John Steinbeck's novel The Pearl. Social facts are traced through fiction as part of the genetics of literary works. The research method used is genetic structuralism, a literary research method that traces the origin of the author's imagination in his fiction. The imagination is considered a social reality that reflects events in people's lives. The research data consist of primary data in the form of literary works, and secondary data are some references that document the background of the author's life and social reality. The results of this research indicate that racist acts as part of American social facts are documented in literary works. The situation of poor Indians and displaced people in slums is a social fact witnessed by John Steinbeck as the author of the novel The Pearl through an Indian fictional character named Kino. Racism is an act of white sentiment that discriminates against Native Americans, namely the Indian community.

This thesis discusses the forms of postcolonialism that operate within a family, through the novel "The God of Small Things'' by Arundhati Roy (2008). The study method used is Text Analysis. The objective of this study is to prove that The God of Small Things is a way the author highlights issues of postcolonialism, female discrimination, and the implementation of the caste system that is still strong in India. The theory used in this study is the Subaltern Theory by Gayatri Spivak (2021). Results of the analysis shows that families can become strategic environments for patterns of power relation to thrive and become a unit in the structure of colonialism in India. The author describes that female figures in novels such as Mammachi, Esta, and Ammu, have a subaltern position within the family. As a result, this novel is a critique of the author's held values about colonialism, caste and patriarchy that has not diminished in Indian society after the end of colonialism.

Sea of Poppies is a historical novel based on human being's survive and fulfilment of dream. The novel is divided into three main parts, first one is land, second one is river and third one is sea, in which the whole novel is chronologically weave with the fulfilment of dream. The chief character in this novel is Deeti, a village married woman of India, who dreamed to travel in an ample vessel, quenched her desire in an unprecedented situation. One day, she saw a big ship sailing on the ocean, which she had never seen earlier even in her dream. Sea of Poppies is a meditation in the guise of a novel, but such is the author's meticulousness in matters of research, and so firm is his grasp of the unexplored underbelly of the British Empire. Ghosh is the author of ten highly acclaimed works of fiction and non-fiction which include the booker- prize shortlisted Sea of Poppies. The novel, Sea of Poppies, told the history of Indian society, opened in 1838, on the eve of first opium war, the novel divided into three parts, Land, Water and Sea. The first part narrated the condition of the protagonist that made able to reach near the ship. The first part also described the economic and social states of the Indian society. The second part invited the characters to join the ship and being ready for their voyage to abroad. The third part, allowed the characters to sail for their new life in Mauritius. Sea of Poppies, shows the chronicle of dreams through the eyes of an Indian village woman, named Deeti, in a different circumstances. The novel depicted the nascent desire of female protagonist, to fulfill her dream. She lived her life as a common Indian house lady, and left her village in an unpredicted situation that visualized the 19th and 20th century’s condition of Indian society. The novel, breaks the doors of caste description and colonialism, and reveals the new way of life, seeking freedom in a different condition.

Rama Mehta is an eminent novelist who contributed significantly to Indian English fiction by bringing female issues to the fore through her exemplary novel, Inside the Haveli. The novel shows a predominant concern with the subjugating condition of women characters shackled in the Indian patriarchal structure and brings, particularly, into light the repressed state of female characters and the elements that determine their submission. Simultaneously, based on the incident, the novel reveals silence and submission on the part of the novelist as well. Nevertheless, the work seems stifled when dealing with women's issues; its movements are confusing, contradicting and oscillating. The characters and their author appear tense under pressure showing a disinclination to adopt a bold stance. This cramped and oscillating situation speaks of their helplessness and repressed situation.

The idea of gender based inequalities implies that in India, a gap in health, education, economy and political participation occurs between men and women. In India, gender based discrimination is a part and parcel of people’s life. Perhaps, due to this reason, The Global Gender Gap Report of 2013 ranks India high, on the inequality indices. Women have equal rights under the law to own property and receive equal inheritance rights, but in practice, women are at a disadvantage. However, this research paper aims to explore the issue with reference to the chronology of the Indian English Novels, authored by the Indian writers, who preferred English language as the medium of their literary creation. This paper tends to identify the gender based discriminations and their manner of execution in the novels of the prominent novelists of the post-independence era, from mid twentieth century to the present times. The most important reason to consider the post-independent Indian English novelists is that the case studies related to the issues began to intensify after the few decades of the independence. Recently, in the literary, social and electronic media realms the issues, like subjugation and exploitation of women are being openly discussed. Moreover, the present book too has given the place to these gender based issues among the other titles. Though, due to spatial constraints it was not possible to discuss all the writers, but the novels of the prominent Indian English novelist of international repute have been included in this paper.

The aim of the article is to illustrate the contribution of research with literary tests to study Self1 and social relationships. We briefly overview, first, different theoretical approaches using literature in social psychology, second, the analysis of Self and identity within the framework of social representations. This perspective considers literary texts—co-creations of their time—worth of study to test and expand social psychological knowledge. In the present research the importance of the individualism—collectivism dimension to understand social “worlds,” and of dynamic forces underlying social life is tested. After considering studies on Self and culture in the Indian context, a novel by Anita Desai—a recognized authoress, renowned in India and in the West—is analyzed. Content and correspondence analyses were performed to detect dimensions underlying the portrayed characters and relationships. The resulting structures partially support but also extend social psychological knowledge on Self and relationships.

Background: While cardiac sonography is recognized as a skilled allied health profession in the developed world, sonographers are relatively unorganized in India. This survey aimed to capture basic demographic data of this organically growing community employing electronic and social media platforms. Materials and Methods: A predominantly multiple-choice-based questionnaire was created using a free, open-access survey platform and circulated on available sonographer social media forums, messenger groups, and E-mail lists. Information distribution, data collection, and response analysis were entirely paperless. Results: Between July 2017 and April 2018, 290 sonographers from 19 states participated in this survey. Forty-six allied health courses offering echocardiography were identified across India. A majority of respondents and identified courses were based in the South and West India. About 62% of the sonographers were women, and approximately 60% were <30 years old. Multiple training pathways were displayed, and >30% held university-level degrees in echocardiography. More than 50% were early to mid-career sonographers and scanned more than 20 patients a day. All sonographer scanned under authorized supervision. A minority were credentialed after training. Less than 1 in 3 were members of the National Indian Academy of Echocardiography. Conclusions: Preliminary analysis in this ongoing survey suggests that the Indian sonographer community is young, predominantly female, and generally work in hospital-based clinical environments. Sonographer credentialing, enhanced society engagement and continuous medical education may support career development and contribute to the society's goals to promote echocardiography practice and education in India.

This article explores the hemispheric and transatlantic uses of race and empire as tropes of settler-colonial otherness in the novelThe Canadian Brothers(1840) by Canadian author John Richardson. In this pre-Confederation historical novel, Richardson contrasts the imperial British discourse of racial tolerance, and the British military alliances with the Natives in the War of 1812, with the brutality of American Indian policies south of the border, in an effort to craft a narrative of Canadian difference from, and incompatibility with, American culture. At the same time, the author's critical attitude towards all European military and commercial interventions in the New World illuminates the rootedness of both American and Canadian settler colonialisms in British imperialism, and exposes the arbitrariness and constructedness of the political boundaries dividing the continent.

Abstract: Over-prescription of medicines leads to some crucial health issues like resistance, non-specificity, etc. Therefore, a human consumes various natural foods, therapeutics, and nutritional supplements to combat this problem. Various therapeutic properties of secondary metabolites, such as anticancer, anti-inflammatory, and antibacterial properties, are important in drug discovery and medicinal application. These natural products have replaced synthetic materials, resulting in a great deal of sustainability, rational use, and preservation of biodiversity. This review described the potential therapeutic applications of secondary plant metabolites found in Himalayan Indian plants. The database contains 45 plants to treat various diseases, such as cancer, inflammation, and microbial infections. Besides authorized ITIS names, it includes Hindi names, family names, and active constituents. The most important information about the molecules can be found in the hyperlinks for the active constituents. It includes structures (two-dimensional and threedimensional), names and identifiers, chemical and physical properties, spectral information, biochemistry, literature and patents. The review also references various phytochemicals responsible for preventing COVID-19. Despite several challenges in manufacturing natural products, researchers may conduct research to produce successful medicines with few side effects.

The article presents the historical-literary analysis of The Cotton-Pickers (Die Baumwollpflücker), the first novel by the German writer B. Traven, who spent most of his intellectual life living and writing (in German) in Mexico, where he died, and focused his main works on the life of the native people of the state of Chiapas. The Cotton-Pickers did not emphasize the issue of the native population, whose representatives only appear episodically in the text, and described the experience of the author-narrator who recently arrived in Mexico in his search for work. Until today, this novel has been analyzed mainly as an autobiographical text and from a sociological perspective, highlighting the author's leftist attitude. However, it has not been taken into account how B. Traven is creating, throughout the narrative, a cultural image of the country that enchanted him throughout his life. The social and cultural aspects of the Mexican Revolution, those that attracted the author who, at the same time, does not stop being critical about the current state of things, are highlighted too. In this way, an imagological perspective is proposed in the reception of the work. Likewise, despite the fact that B. Traven's researchers always underlined his leftist orientation (anarchist in nature) in the reception of this revolution, few were those who valued the emphasis he placed on the role of the native population in the revolutionary process. Meanwhile, B. Traven described the role and destiny of the Indians in the revolution earlier than Mexican-born writers did it. It was he who wrote the first novels in Mexico that presented the Indians as active participants in the revolutionary processes. And it was also he who placed special emphasis on the autochthonous component as the spiritual core of the Mexican nation and on its role in the hopeful future of the country.

V. S. Naipaul's fiction as well as non-fiction demonstrates the autobiographical materials plus these overlapping statements work to present a vivid bank account of this author's own enigma of survival and growth together with the affliction as well as condition of the expatriates within the colonial as well as post-colonial era. V. S. Naipaul is the ideal writer who is searching for the origins of his and also surveying India through the distinctive viewpoint of under an outsider, a cosmopolitan Caribbean brand new resident of England, but of Indian beginnings attempting to comprehend out the complexities on the culture of ours. This research considers displacement in Naipaul's The Mimic Men, A House of Mr Biswas, The Mystic Masseur and A Bend in the River as a traumatic experience. This paper analyses all of the pain and sufferings of migrants in four novels. Taking an interdisciplinary approach to the topic of the study, it explores the psychological and historical dimensions of the displacement in the novel, along with its literary representations in terms of identity, culture, survival and stress disorder. In order to complete the theme of present research paper effectively, the main aim is usually to go over the benefits of Diasporic sensibility of Naipaul that cannot be just overlooked in the life of his.

The emergence of trauma as an alarming global issue has demanded attention and concern worldwide The term trauma comes from the Greek tpaa meaning wound The Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English defines trauma as an unpleasant and upsetting experience that affects you for a long time Trauma as a theory in literature escalated in the 1990s accelerated by the pioneering works of scholars such as Cathy Caruth Geoffrey H Hartman and Shoshana Felman In contemporary Indian English fiction the genre of short stories has consistently represented an essential component of the literary landscape The potency innate in short stories equates to that of novels in their efficacy to provide radical insights into social cultural historical and psychological arenas The Art of Dying 1993 authored by the esteemed contemporary postmodern postcolonial writer Githa Hariharan is a cluster of short stories that reflect on womens lives within the modern Indian setting The Remains of the Feast a short story from this collection unfolds the traumatic events in the life of Rukmini and her response to them as recounted by Ratna her greatgranddaughter The purpose of the study is to inquire into the reactions of Rukmini and Ratna to the events that unwind especially during Rukminis final phase of life This paper employs a feminist lens to examine the responses of these two central characters and brings to light the assertion of agency in the process of negotiating with physical and psychological trauma shedding light on their respective positions within the patriarchal framework

“Ross Lockridge, Jr. took his own life on March 6th, 1948, two months following publication of his best‐selling novel, Raintree County. The thirty‐three year old author from Indiana left his wife and four children. His second son, Larry Lockridge, five years old at that time, has undertaken a search for answers to what has been called the greatest single mystery in American letters. Here, he describes the psychology of survivorship as well as the convergence of factors that led to suicide—personality disorder (narcissistic), biological (possibly genetic) predisposition to depression, and cultural factors related to success in the United States. A merging of such interpretive methods may be more productive than a privileging of one over the other.”

A recent development in the Internet of Things (IoT) has accelerated the application of IoT-based solutions in healthcare. Next-Gen networks and IoT, supported by the development of technologies such as Artificial Intelligence (AI) and blockchain, have propelled the growth of e-health applications. However, there are some unique challenges in the widespread acceptance of IoT in healthcare. Safe storage, transfer, authorized access control, and the privacy and security aspects of patient data management are crucial barriers to the widespread adoption of IoT in healthcare. This makes it necessary to identify current issues in the various health data management systems to develop novel healthcare solutions. As a case study, this work considers a scheme launched by the Government of India for tuberculosis care called Nikshay Poshan Yojana (NPY). It is a web-based Direct Benefit Transfer scheme to provide a nutritional incentive of INR 500/- per month to all tuberculosis patients. The main objective of this work is to identify the current implementation challenges of the NPY scheme from patient and healthcare stakeholder perspectives and proposes a blockchain-based architecture called NikshayChain for sharing patient medical reports and bank details among several healthcare stakeholders within or across Indian cities. The proposed architecture accelerates healthcare stakeholder productivity by reducing workload and overall costs while ensuring effective data management. This architecture can significantly improve medical care, incentive transfer, and data verification, propelling the use of e-health applications.

In India because of the elevated birth rate and Brobdingnagian population (globally next to china) Rashtriya Bal Swasthya Karyakram (RBSK) (National Child Health program) is a significant measure by the Government of India, quite vital for public health care provision systems for reducing mortality in children (to achieve SDG goal), particularly within the current COVID-19 pandemic era throughout which most of the essential maternal- kid RCH (Reproductive and Child Health) health services were disrupted globally as well as in India. One of the researchers is a medical doctor who felt that the performance of RBSK during COVID-19 must be investigated to know the status of implementation of services during the pandemic crisis to alert policymakers if there is a disruption of these vital health services due to ongoing pandemic so that proper and timely action should be taken to rectify disruption if any during as well as after pandemic. This analysis study was done to supply significant information to the scientific community and decision-makers with concrete information analysis from authorized HMIS (Health Management data system) of Government - MoHFW (Ministry of Health and Family Welfare)) to provide the COVID-19 impact on RBSK services by public health care facilities across thirty-six states and UTs of India. This novel cross sectional research study revealed that COVID-19 period 2020 had a less number of Male/Female children identified with Disease (6 month to 18 years) screened by RBSK services mobile health teams at Govt and Govt aided schools and Anganwadi centre under RBSK services in India on an all India cumulative basis. This is clearly due to less number of screenings done during the COVID-19 era. The prevalence of Male/Female children identified with Disease (6 month to 18 years) / 1000 screened were 23.49, 31.18 and 29.72 for males and 22.37, 30.27 and 29.31 for females during 2018-2019-2020 respectively, is reduced during COVID-19 era is a good sign.

PurposeThe study is an attempt to explore much talked but less understood issue of “blockchain in logistics industry” in modern perspective. The customers' acceptance of blockchain technology in logistics and supply chain is tested through “Technology Acceptance Model” by using attitude, perceived usefulness (PU), perceived ease of use (PEOU), behavioral intention and use behavior.Design/methodology/approachData has been collected through online and offline medium, where active 240 responses have been collected finally using convenience sampling. Confirmatory factor analysis with structural equation modeling (SEM) was carried out for data analysis.FindingsThe customers' acceptance of blockchain technology in logistics and supply chain is tested through “Technology Acceptance Model.” The findings reveal model fit where PEOU, PU and attitude are the major constructs of the model to realize the substantial gains in logistics process efficiency.Research limitations/implicationsConvenience sampling has been considered for the study to collect the data of online users of various technology applications for tracking and shipment detail, whereas a more specified method sampling can be considered for the future research. The study has been conducted in the Indian context, which has been considered as the limitation pertaining to generalization across countries and industries.Practical implicationsThe findings of this study will be helpful for market practitioners to build transparency between customers and industry to overcome the frictions in logistics. Blockchain will help in monitoring the performance history and previous commitments of logistics professionals resulting in selecting a responsible logistics solution provider. Access to critical data by the authorized member of the supply chain will reduce unsubstantiated disputes.Social implicationsBlockchain technology will be available to everyone on the network. This will bring transparency and help logistics professionals such as carriers, shippers and brokers to detect early frauds and prevent thefts. It will increase customer trust toward any financial transaction for tracking the ownership of titles.Originality/valueBlockchain technology is envisioned to be a technology that could be a game-changer for decentralizing infrastructure, introducing transparency and building trust in the supply chain. The current study is a novel addition to the literature where blockchain technology enables the indisputable storage of verified data that was previously kept in safeguarded silos.

Arundhati Roy the author states that the "critique of capitalism in the contemporary world has to begin with a critique of globalization." This is precisely what I plan to do in research paper, exactly like how Roy did it in her activism writings. The research paper is about the plight of displaced people of India. Arundhuti Roy describes how a person can be displaced from their home in the name of development and that the home chosen for them is not as good as their original home. The writer goes on to describe how the displacement of people from their native lands has been seen for two decades. The writer then states that a political party in India has been trying to improve the condition of these families. The researcher also states that in India, government and private companies have been displacing people because they want to build cities, dams, mines and industries. Roy then goes on to state that still, despite all this displacees are being used as labor free of charge by these companies and they are not even paid minimum wage. She then goes on to say that still displaced people prefer living there compared to living in rehabilitated area. Roy say even though displaced people are not happy with what is happening but they have no choice but to stay there because they do not have any other option left and the land which is being taken away from them cannot be replaced..

This research article explores R.K. Narayan's representations of women in Indian society, with a specific focus on his novel "The Guide". The study examines how the author's portrayal of female characters reflects the gender dynamics and cultural norms prevailing in Indian society at that time. By analyzing the complex relationships between Rosie, Marco, and Raju, the article highlights the significant role played by women in the narrative and emphasizes their resilience and determination against societal challenges. Furthermore, the article scrutinizes the transformation of Rosie from a submissive and dependent character to an empowered and independent individual as an iconic reflection of women's evolution in India during that era. Through a comprehensive analysis of "The Guide", this research contributes to a broader understanding of R.K. Narayan's literary works and their impact on Indian literature and society. In this article, we will analyze R.K. Narayan's novel "The Guide" to explore his depictions of women and their role in Indian society. By examining the characters and themes throughout the book, we will discuss how Narayan's representations demonstrate an evolving worldview within the context of both tradition and modernity

Homogenizing the heterogeneous Indian tribes might be unfair. However, as large groups of tribal families are the subjects of study, the word ‘tribes’ was adopted as a grab for the underprivileged people, regardless of geographical location or cultural moorings. The current study analyse the significance of ethnographic novels that specifically evoke cultural experiences and the efficiency of their strategies in depicting people via the analysis of the two books such as Paraja (authored in Oriya in 1945) by Gopinath Mohanty and translated by Bikram K. Das in 2001, and Chotti Munda and His Arrow (Bangla title is Chotti Munda ebang Tar Tir, 1980) by Mahasweta Devi and translated by Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak in 2002. The current study emphasizes the shifting paradigms of centre–right binarism by using fictional works by well-known writers Mahasweta Devi and Gopinath Mohanty who have done literary works that spoke about the rights of tribal community.

This research paper explores the theme of sensitivity as depicted in the novels of Arupa Patingia Kalita, a renowned Indian author known for her thought-provoking literary works. By analyzing selected novels, this paper aims to examine how Kalita's narratives reflect and evoke a sense of sensitivity towards various aspects of human life, society, and the environment. The study focuses on the author's depiction of emotions, social issues, and ecological concerns to illustrate the profound impact of sensitivity in her story telling. Through a close analysis of Kalita's works, this paper argues that sensitivity plays a vital role in enhancing readers' understanding of diverse human experiences and fostering empathy and compassion.

Novel corona virus first began in Wuhan, china, in December 2019, and it rapidly expanded globally. Corona virus disease 2019 (COVID-19) is a new infectious disease caused by severe acute respiratory syndrome corona virus 2 (SARS-CoV-2) that belongs to the corona virus family. With no specific and effective antiviral therapy for CoVID-19, new or repurposed antiviral are urgently needed. For traditional medicinal treasure India is well recognized all over the world. There are more than 3000 authorized plants in India that hold prodigious medicinal potential. The traditional systems of medicines viz. Ayurveda, Siddha, Unani, western herbal medicine, traditional Chinese medicine and homeopathy have roots in medicinal herbs. In view of the significant morbidity and mortality associated with this pandemic, many research activities are ongoing globally to explore possible therapeutic regiments or prophylactic agents. Ayurveda the traditional system of Indian medicine can offer prophylactic or therapeutic solutions for COVID-19. Traditional Indian Medicines has lot to offer in the management of COVID-19. Many research documents suggested that ethno pharmacological information on the medicinal plant species used by herbalists against corona virus disease. Herbal medicine are achieving attention because of the extensive therapeutics like potent antiviral, immunomodulatory, anti-inflammatory, and anti-oxidant properties and certain natural compounds might be effective for the treatment of COVID-19 based on general concepts from previous experiments. These articles discusses some herbal agents extracted from various plants, including Cinchona, Curcuma longa, Nigella sativa, Azadirachta indica, Tinospora Cordifolia, Allium sativum, Oxylum indicum, Punicagranatum, Cocos nucifera and some more plants, Herbal medicine, phytochemical which are considered for the treatment of COVID-19. This review will open an area for the development of novel natural herbal formulations as an alternative therapy that can be used for the preparation of immunopotentiator, development of herbal/Ayurvedic antiviral drugs, designing anti-microbial / anti viral materials and prevention and treatment of COVID-19.

Through the rich tapestry of contemporary Indian young adult fiction, where visionary writers emerge as architects of societal change and use words as tools for reflection and reform, take off on a transformative journey. Through a variety of perspectives, the narrative revolution is revealed and every writer adds their own distinctive mark to the dynamic canvas of Indian literature. One such author creates a complex narrative that defies stereotypes and breaks down conventional barriers in an intricate examination of love and identity. Another creatively defies graphic novel storytelling conventions, producing a visual and narrative feast that defies accepted writing practices. This literary panorama provides detailed explorations of individual aspirations intricately interwoven with cultural limitations, with a focus on the expectations placed on women by society. Characters contribute to the ongoing conversation about the shifting roles of women in contemporary India by balancing the weight of social norms with individual agency. Furthermore, a noteworthy contribution to the portrayal of LGBT identity serves as a beacon of understanding and inclusivity. The story invites readers to delve into the complex emotional aspects of queer experiences as it gently examines the complexities of identity crises. This work creates a more inclusive literary landscape by breaking new ground and igniting conversations about diversity and representation. Young adult fiction is experiencing a metamorphosis that goes beyond conventional narrative techniques, crafting literary environments that function as windows reflecting the myriad of human experiences. These cultural architects have a lasting influence that reaches beyond library walls and provides readers with a profound opportunity to reflect on their own journeys. These works become more than just stories because they transform societys values about acceptance, love and identity. They also show the boundless possibilities that lie between a books pages. The present research paper examines delves into the intricacies of gender and sexuality while highlighting innovative works that challenge preconceptions, break down barriers and change readers viewpoints. KEYWORDS: Contemporary, adult fiction, transformative, acceptance, gender and identity

Handwriting evidence is a valuable source for authorship identification, an important aspect in investigating crimes such as murder, suicide, illegal drug trafficking, kidnapping, and document forgery. It relies heavily on the examination of written characters that make the document. However, specific studies on the handwritten numeral characters are scarce despite being crucial in assisting investigators in solving crimes. Hence, this study is aimed to gauge the possibility to discriminate authors according to their ethnicities by means of their handwritten numeral characters using a novel Geometric Morphometric (GMM) technique. Handwritten numeral characters collected from 30 individuals from three main different ethnic groups in Malaysia; Malay, Chinese and Indian were first digitised and landmarked using GMM software. Cluster patterns can be observed in the Principal Component Analysis (PCA) score plots, belonging exclusively to the three different ethnic groups. Significant differences (p<0.0001) were discovered in handwritten numerals characters 3, 4, 5, 7 and 9 amongst the three ethnicities when tested using Procrustes ANOVA, which signifying that it is possible to discriminate authors according to their ethnicities using their handwritten numeral characters. However, more sophisticated meta-analyses are needed in order to find the most effective technique for determining and discriminating the author's ethnicity.

Dr K.V. Dominic, English poet, critic, short story writer and editor, is a retired professor of the Post Graduate & Research Department of English, Newman College, Thodupuzha, Kerala, India. He was born in 1956 at Kalady, a holy place in Kerala where Adi Sankara, the philosopher who consolidated the doctrine of Advaita Vedanta, was born. He took his PhD on the topic ‘East-West Conflicts in the Novels of R. K. Narayan’ from Mahatma Gandhi University, Kottayam, Kerala. In addition to innumerable poems, short stories and critical articles published in national and international journals, he has authored/edited thirty books so far. Another poetry book of Dominic translated into French by Dominique Demiscault is in the process of being published in France. Prof. Dominic is the Secretary of Guild of Indian English Writers, Editors and Critics (GIEWEC). He has conducted several national seminars and workshops all over India. He is one of the writers of the SAARC (South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation) countries’ magazine and participant of SAARC literary festivals. He is the editor and publisher of the international refereed biannual journal, International Journal on Multicultural Literature (IJML) and Editor-in-Chief of the GIEWEC’s international refereed biannual journal, Writers Editors Critics (WEC). He is also the publisher of the international refereed annual, New Fiction Journal (NFJ). International Poets Academy, Chennai conferred on him its highest award in 2009; The India Inter-Continental Cultural Association, Chandigarh conferred on him the Kafla Inter-continental Award of Honour Sahitya Shiromani in recognition of his contribution in the field of literature at the 10th International Writers' Festival at Trivandrum (Kerala) in 2014.

In postcolonial studies, the missionary is inevitably associated with colonialism. This is explained by the fact that the missionaries’ main task was to spread Christianity by preaching the “blessings of civilisation” and implementing “the white man's burden”. This study adopts Edward W. Said's Orientalist discourse to critique the construct of the representation of indigenous peoples in Wilkie Collins's (1824-1889) The Black Robe (1881). Said's ideas are particularly instrumental in critically analysing the Western (mis)representation of Native Americans as savages who need to be civilised. The Black Robe is a partly epistolary novel revolving around a series of unfortunate events by Lewis Romayne, whose remorse for the accidental murder of a young man haunts him for the rest of his life. This research reveals inconsistencies regarding the author's religious views in the novel. It is argued that while Collins's anti-Catholic sarcasm aims to expose the corruption of religious orders, this attitude does not apply to colonial discourse. Rather, Catholicism is purposefully used as a divisive imperialist tool in the novel, and therefore the missionaries serve as colonial agents who “bless” discriminatory acts of British imperial policy, hence the image of the black robe that represents the colonial legacy consolidating the influence of British imperial power through religion. In The Black Robe, indigenous peoples are described as “bloodthirsty savages” and it is believed that their souls can be saved under the influence of Christianity. This enforcement also represents colonial hegemony, through which American Indians are subjected to social and cultural assimilation. The ideology of white racial supremacy manifests itself in the justification of the colonial missions, which claim that they have legitimate and religious rights over the land and culture of the natives.

History is neither about 'past' nor 'dead' in India. The past mingles with the present in a continuous confluence and the dead infuse life too often in today. This is because the ancient social, cultural, literary and historical traditions spanning several thousand years, sustain the present day India. It is therefore, natural that history is pulsating with life and verve. For this reason writers in all ages have turned to history for inspiration and to draw material for their themes. However, the linguistic and ethnic heterogeneity which comprises the complex socio-cultural fabric of India facilitates viewing the past from various angles. According to their perception and socio-cultural concerns, writers have painted Indian history in various hues in their fiction. The interrelationship of history and literature is intricate and deep rooted. Therefore, it is not surprising if different literary works sharing the same historical theme receive divergent reviews and responses of readers from different regions. It is difficult to define the parameters of historical fiction, and equally baffling to explain and predict the reception a particular work of historical fiction will have among readers, or that the author's vision will reach the readers in the same light as he perceived it. A reaction substantiating this argument is the row over and the subsequent banning of Jaishree Misra's novel Rani in the State of Uttar Pradesh in Central India few years back, whereas other works on the same historical personality have been immensely popular.

For changing semantics, ontological and information presentation, as well as computational linguistics for Asian social networks are one of the most essential platforms for offering enhanced and real-time data mapping, as well as huge data access across diverse big data sources on the web architecture, information extraction mining, statistical modeling and data modeling, and database control, etc. The concept of opinion or sentiment analysis is often used to predict or classify the textual data, sentiment, affect, subjectivity, and other emotional states in online text. Recognizing the message's positive and negative thoughts or opinions by examining the author's goals will aid in a better understanding of the text's content in terms of the stock market. By extracting useful user information from many web sources, an intelligent Ontology and knowledge Asian Social Network solution enhances the business decision support process. On either hand, ontology is concerned primarily with problem-solving knowledge discovery. The utilization of Internet-based modernizations welcomed a significant effect on the Indian stock exchange. News related to the stock market in the most recent decade plays a vital role for the brokers or users. This article focusses on predicting stock market news sentiments based on their polarity and textual information using the concept of ontological knowledge-based Convolution Neural Network (CNN) as a machine learning approach. Optimal features are essential for the sentiment classification model to predict the stock's textual reviews' exact sentiment. Therefore, the swarm-based Artificial Bee Colony (ABC) algorithm is utilized with the Lexicon feature extraction approach using a novel fitness function. The main motivation for combining ABC and CNN is to accelerate model training, which is why the suggested approach is effective in predicting emotions from stock news.

IntroductionCatastrophe surrounds us perpetually: from the Queensland floods, Christchurch earthquake, global warming, and Global Financial Crisis to social conflicts, psychological breaking points, relationship failures, and crises of understanding. As a consequence of the pervasiveness of catastrophe, its representation saturates our everyday awareness. On a daily basis we encounter stories of people impacted by and coping with natural, economic, ecological, and emotional disasters of all kinds.But what is the relationship between culture, catastrophe, and creativity? Can catastrophe be an impetus for the creative transformation of societies and individuals? Conversely, how can culture moderate, transform, and re-imagine catastrophe? And in the final analysis, how should we conceive of catastrophe; does catastrophe have a bad name? These questions and others have guided us in editing the “catastrophe” issue of M/C Journal. The word catastrophe has been associated with extreme disaster only since the 1700s. In an earlier etymological sense, catastrophe simply connoted “a reversal of what is expected” or, in Western literary history, a defining turn in a drama (Harper). Catastrophe derives from the Greek katastrophe for “an overturning; a sudden end.” As this issue clearly demonstrates, whilst catastrophes vary in scale, context, and meaning, their outcomes are life-changing inversions of the interpersonal, social, or environmental norm. In The Upside of Down: Catastrophe, Creativity, and the Renewal of Civilization, political scientist Thomas Homer-Dixon echoes this definition and argues that catastrophe “can be a source of immense creativity—a shock that opens up political, social, and psychological space for fresh ideas, actions, institutions, and technologies that weren't possible before” (23). According to Homer-Dixon and on a hopeful note, “in any complex adaptive system, breakdown, if limited, can be a key part of that system's long-term resilience and renewal” (308). Indeed, many of the articles in this issue sound a note of hope. Catastrophe and Creativity The impetus for this issue comes from the Catastrophe and Creativity symposium convened at Edith Cowan University in Perth, Western Australia, in 2012. The symposium brought together artists and researchers from around Australia to engage with the theme “catastrophe.” The organisers encouraged participants to conceptualise catastrophe broadly and creatively: from natural disasters to personal turning points, and from debilitating meltdowns to regenerative solutions. As a result, the topics explored in this issue stretch deeply and widely, and demonstrate the different forms and scales of catastrophe. Many of the 24 articles submitted for possible inclusion in this issue emerged as responses to the symposium theme. Distinct moods and meanings of catastrophe reverberate in the final selection of 12. The articles that shape the issue are intimate, collective, and geographical engagements with and reflections upon cataclysm that move from the highly personal to the global and speak of countries, communities, networks, friends, families, and colleagues. As a collection, the articles re-envision catastrophe as a pathway for creative interventions, artistic responses, community solidarities, social innovations, individual modes of survival and resilience, and environmental justices. In thinking through the relationship between catastrophe and culture, the authors challenge existing discourses and ways of knowing trauma, and offer fresh interpretations and hope. Catastrophe leads to metanoia: a change of perception after a significant crisis. The editors appreciate that there are no hierarchies between interpretations of catastrophe. Instead, the articles represent a dialogue between diverse experiences of pain, disaster, and abuse, as well as different theories about the nature of catastrophe—from the catastrophic loss of millions through genocide to the impact of trauma on an individual’s body and psyche. Part of the challenge of crafting this issue of M/C Journal has been in delineating what constitutes catastrophe. Admittedly we end up with more questions than we started with. Is catastrophe the same as trauma? Is it disaster? When is it apocalypse? Can catastrophe entail all these things? Who is silenced, and who can tell the narratives of catastrophe? How? Despite these unanswerable questions, we can be certain that catastrophe, as described by the authors, foundationally changes the fabric of human and non-human being in the world. The authors leave us with the lingering reverberations and resonances of catastrophe, revealing at the same time how catastrophic events can “reverse the expected” in the true sense of the word. The transformative potential of catastrophe is prominent in the issue. Some authors call for justice, support, inspiration, and resilience—on personal and community levels. The contributions remind us that, after catastrophe, the person, society, or planet will never be the same. Responses to Catastrophe The issue opens with the intimate nature of catastrophes. A feature article by esteemed Canadian academic and poet Lorri Neilsen Glenn takes the form of a lyric essay originally presented as the keynote address at the symposium. Composed of extracts from her book Threading Light: Explorations in Loss and Poetry (published here with kind permission of the author and Hagios Press) and reflective interludes, Neilsen combines her acute academic insights with personal experiences of loss to create evocative prose and poetry that, as she says, “grounds our grief in form […] connects us to one another and the worlds.” Her work opens for the reader “complex and nuanced understandings of our human capacities for grief.” In this piece, Neilsen speaks of personal catastrophe through lyric inquiry, a method she has described eloquently in the Sage Handbook of the Arts in Qualitative Research. The second feature article is a commentary on Neilsen’s work by the equally esteemed feminist scholar Lekkie Hopkins. In her article, Hopkins explains Neilsen’s journey from literacy researcher to arts-based social science researcher to poet and lyric inquirer. Hopkins uses her reflections on the work of Neilsen in order to draw attention, not only to Neilsen’s “ground-breaking uses of lyric inquiry,” but also to another kind of communal catastrophe which Hopkins calls “the catastrophe of the methodological divide between humanities and the social sciences that runs the risk of creating, for the social sciences, a limiting and limited approach to research.” In her article “Casualties on the Road to Ethical Authenticity,” Kate Rice applies a powerful narrative inquiry to the relationship between catastrophe and ethics. As a playwright experienced in projects dealing with personal catastrophe, Rice nevertheless finds her usual research and writing practice challenged by the specific content of her current project—a play about the murder of innocents—and its focus on the real-life perpetrator. Ambivalent regarding the fascinated human response such catastrophe draws, Rice suggests that spectacle creates “comfort” associated with “processing sympathy into a feeling of self-importance at having felt pain that isn’t yours.” She also argues against a hierarchy of grief, noting that, “when you strip away the circumstances, the essence of loss is the same, whether your loved one dies of cancer, in a car accident, or a natural disaster.” In an article tracing the reverberation of catastrophe over the course of 100 years, Marcella Polain explores the impact of the Armenian Genocide’s 1.5 million deaths. Through a purposefully fragmented, non-linear narrative, Polain evokes with exquisite sensitivity the utter devastation the Genocide wreaked upon one family—her own: “When springs run red, when the dead are stacked tree-high, when ‘everything that could happen has already happened,’ then time is nothing: ‘there is no future [and] the language of civilised humanity is not our language’” (Nichanian 142).The potentiality that can be generated in the aftermath of catastrophe also resonates in an article co-authored by Brenda Downing and Alice Cummins. (A photograph of Downing’s performance aperture is the issue’s cover image.) In their visceral evocation, the catastrophe of childhood rape is explored and enfleshed with a deft and generous touch. Downing, embodying for the reader her experience as researcher, writer, and performer, and Cummins, as Body-Mind Centering® practitioner and artistic director, explore the reciprocity of their collaboration and the performance aperture that they created together. Their collaboration made possible the realisation that “a performance […] could act as a physical, emotional, and intellectual bridge of communication between those who have experienced sexual violence and those who have not.” Maggie Phillips evokes the authoritative yet approachable voice of her 2012 symposium presentation in “Diminutive Catastrophe: Clown’s Play;” her meditation on clowns and clowning as not only a discipline and practice, but also “a state of being.” In response to large-scale catastrophe, and the catastrophic awareness of “the utter meaninglessness of human existence,” the clown offers “a tiny gesture.” As Phillips argues, however, “those fingers brushing dust off a threadbare jacket may speak volumes.” By inducing “miniscule shifts of consciousness” as they “wander across territories designated as sacred and profane with a certain insouciance and privilege,” clowns offer “glimpses of the ineffable.” In “Creativity in an Online Community as a Response to the Chaos of a Breast Cancer Diagnosis,” Cynthia Witney, Lelia Green, Leesa Costello, and Vanessa Bradshaw explore the role of online communities, such as the “Click” website, in providing support and information for women with breast cancer. Importantly, the authors show how these communities can provide a forum for the expression of creativity. Through Csikszentmihalyi’s concept of “flow” (53), the authors suggest that “becoming totally involved in the creative moment, so as to lose all track of time” allows women temporary space to “forget the trials and worries of breast cancer.” By providing a forum for women and their supporters to reach out to others in similar situations, online communities, inspired by notions of creativity and flow, can offer “some remedy for catastrophe.” A different impulse pervades Ella Mudie’s insightful examination of the Surrealist city novel. Mudie argues against the elision of historical catastrophe through contemporary practices; specifically, the current reading in the field of psychogeography of Surrealist city dérives (drifts) as playful city walks, or “an intriguing yet ultimately benign method of urban research.” Mudie revisits the Surrealist city novel, evoking the original “praxis of shock” deployed through innovative experiments in novelistic form and content. Binding the theory and practice of Surrealism to the catastrophic event from which it sprang—the Great War—Mudie argues against “domesticating movements” which “dull the awakening power” of such imaginative and desperate revolts against an increasingly mechanised society. Through discussions of natural disasters, the next three articles bring a distinctive architectural, geographical, and ecological stream to the issue. Michael Levine and William Taylor invoke Susan Sontag’s essay “The Imagination of Disaster” in conceptualising approaches to urban recovery and renewal after catastrophic events, as exemplified by Hurricane Katrina in 2005. The authors are interested explicitly in the “imagination of disaster” and the “psychology, politics, and morality of rebuilding,” which they find absent in Sontag’s account of the representation of urban cataclysms in 1950s and 60s science fiction films. Levine and Taylor’s article points to community ethics and social justice issues that—as they outline through different examples from film—should be at the centre of urban reconstruction initiatives. Interpretations of what is meant by reconstruction will vary substantially and, hence, so should community responses be wide-ranging. Extending the geo-spatial emphasis of Levine and Taylor’s article, Rod Giblett theorises the historical and environmental context of Hurricane Katrina using Walter Benjamin’s productive notion of the “Angel of History.” However, Giblett offers the analogous metaphor of the “Angel of Geography” as a useful way to locate catastrophe in both time (history) and space (geography). In particular, Giblett’s reading of the New Orleans disaster addresses the disruption of the city’s ecologically vital habitats over time. As such, according to Giblett, Katrina was the culmination of a series of smaller environmental catastrophes throughout the history of the city, namely the obliteration of its wetlands. Benjamin’s “Angel of History,” thereby, recognises the unity of temporal events and “sees a single, catastrophic history, not just of New Orleans but preceding and post-dating it.” Giblett’s archaeology of the Hurricane Katrina disaster provides a novel framework for reconceptualising the origins of catastrophes. Continuing the sub-theme of natural disasters, Dale Dominey-Howes returns our attention to Australia, arguing that the tsunami is poised to become the “new Australian catastrophe.” Through an analysis of Australian media coverage of the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami, Dominey-Howes asks provocatively: “Has extensive media coverage resulted in an improved awareness of the catastrophic potential of tsunami for Australians?” After speaking with more than 800 Australians in order to understand popular attitudes towards tsunami, the author responds with a definitive “no.” In his view, Australians are “avoiding or disallowing the reality; they normalise and dramaticise the event. Thus in Australia, to date, a cultural transformation about the catastrophic nature of tsunami has not occurred for reasons that are not entirely clear.” As the final article in the issue, “FireWatch: Creative Responses to Bushfire Catastrophe” gives insights into the real-world experience of managing catastrophes as they occur, in this case, bushfires in the remote Kimberley region of Western Australia. Donell Holloway, Lelia Green, and Danielle Brady detail an Australian Research Council funded project that creatively engages with Kimberley residents who “improvise in a creative and intuitive manner” when responding to catastrophe. The authors capture responses from residents in order to redesign an interface that will provide real-time, highly useable information for the management of bushfires in Western Australia. Conclusion This “catastophe” issue of M/C Journal explores, by way of the broad reach of the articles, the relationship between culture, creativity, and catastrophe. Readers will have encountered collective creative responses to bushfire or breast cancer, individual responses to catastrophe, such as childhood rape or genocide, and cultural conceptualisations of catastrophe, for example, in relation to New Orlean’s Hurricane Katrina and the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami. The editors hope that, just like the metanoia that catastrophe can bring about (demonstrated so articulately by Downing and Cummins), readers too will experience a change of their perception of catastrophe, and will come to see catastrophe in its many fascinating iterations. References Csikszentmihalyi, Mihaly. Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience. New York: Harper and Row, 1990. Harper, Douglas. “catastrophe.” Online Etymology Dictionary. 22 Mar. 2013 . Homer-Dixon, Thomas. The Upside of Down: Catastrophe, Creativity, and the Renewal of Civilization. Melbourne : Text Publishing, 2007. Kazanjian, David, and Marc Nichanian. “Between Genocide and Catastrophe.” Loss. Eds. David Eng and David Kazanjian. Los Angeles: U of California P, 2003. 125–47. Neilsen Glenn, Lorri. Threading Light. Explorations in Loss and Poetry. Regina, SK: Hagios Press, 2011. Neilsen, Lorri. “Lyric Inquiry.” Handbook of the Arts in Qualitative Research. Eds. J. Gary Knowles and Ardra Cole. Thousand Oaks: Sage, 2008. 88–98.

The usual postmodern suspicions about diligently deciphering authorial intent or stridently seeking fixed meaning/s and/or binary distinctions in an artistic work aside, this self-indulgent essay pushes the boundaries regarding normative academic research, for it focusses on my own (minimally celebrated) published creative writing’s status as a literary innovation. Dedicated to illuminating some of the less common denominators at play in Australian horror, my paper recalls the creative writing process involved when I set upon the (arrogant?) goal of creating a new genre of creative writing: that of the ‘Aboriginal Fantastic’. I compare my work to the literary output of a small but significant group (2.5% of the population), of which I am a member: Aboriginal Australians. I narrow my focus even further by examining that creative writing known as Aboriginal horror. And I reduce the sample size of my study to an exceptionally small number by restricting my view to one type of Aboriginal horror literature only: the Aboriginal vampire novel, a genre to which I have contributed professionally with the 2011 paperback and 2012 e-book publication of That Blackfella Bloodsucka Dance! However, as this paper hopefully demonstrates, and despite what may be interpreted by some cynical commentators as the faux sincerity of my taxonomic fervour, Aboriginal horror is a genre noteworthy for its instability and worthy of further academic interrogation.Surprising to many, Aboriginal Australian mythology includes at least one truly vampire-like entity, despite Althans’ confident assertion that the Bunyip is “Australia’s only monster” (16) which followed McKee’s equally fearless claim that “there is no blackfella tradition of zombies or vampires” (201). Gelder’s Ghost Stories anthology also only mentions the Bunyip, in a tale narrated by Indigenous man Percy Mumbulla (250). Certainly, neither of these academics claim Indigeneity in their ethnicity and most Aboriginal Australian scholars will happily agree that our heterogeneous Indigenous cultures and traditions are devoid of opera-cape wearing Counts who sleep in coffins or are repelled by crucifix-wielding Catholics. Nevertheless, there are fascinating stories--handed down orally from one generation to the next (Australian Aborigines, of course, have no ancestral writing system)--informing wide-eyed youngsters of bloodsucking, supernatural entities that return from the grave to feed upon still living blackfellas: hence Unaipon describes the red-skinned, fig tree-dwelling monster, the “Yara Ma Yha Who […] which sucks the blood from the victim and leaves him helpless upon the ground” (218). Like most vampires, this monster imparts a similarly monstrous existence upon his prey, which it drains of blood through the suckers on its fingers, not its teeth. Additionally, Reed warns: “Little children, beware of the Yara-ma-yha-who! If you do not behave yourselves and do as you are told, they will come and eat you!” (410), but no-one suggests this horrible creature is actually an undead human.For the purposes of this paper at least, the defining characteristics of a vampire are firstly that it must have once been an ordinary, living human. Secondly, it must have an appetite for human blood. Thirdly, it must have a ghoulish inability to undergo a permanent death (note, zombies, unlike vampires it seems, are fonder of brains than fresh hemoglobin and are particularly easy to dispatch). Thus, according to my criteria, an arguably genuine Aboriginal Australian vampire is referred to when Bunson writes of the Mrart being an improperly buried member of the tribe who has returned after death to feed upon the living (13) and when Cheung notes “a number of vampire-like creatures were feared, most especially the mrart, the ghost of a dead person who attacked victims at night and dragged them away from campsites” (40). Unfortunately, details regarding this “number of vampire-like creatures” have not been collated, nor I fear, in this era of rapidly extinguishing Aboriginal Australian language use, are they ever likely to be.Perhaps the best hope for preservation of these little known treasures of our mythology lies not with anthropologists but with the nation’s Indigenous creative writers. Yet no blackfella novelist, apparently, has been interested in the monstrous, bloodsucking, Aboriginal Undead. Despite being described as dominating the “Black Australian novel” (Shoemaker 1), writer Mudrooroo--who has authored three vampire novels--reveals nothing of Aboriginal Australian vampirology in his texts. Significantly, however, Mudrooroo states that Aboriginal Australian novelists such as he “are devoting their words to the Indigenous existential being” (Indigenous 3). Existentiality, of course, has to do with questions of life, death and dying and, for we Aboriginal Australians, such questions inevitably lead to us addressing the terrible consequences of British invasion and genocide upon our cultural identity, and this is reflected in Mudrooroo’s effective use of the vampire trope in his three ‘Ghost Dreaming’ novels, as they are also known. Mudrooroo’s bloodsuckers, however, are the invading British and Europeans in his extended ‘white man as ghost’ metaphor: they are not sourced from Aboriginal Australian mythology.Mudrooroo does, notably, intertwine his story of colonising vampires in Australia with characters created by Bram Stoker in his classic novel Dracula (1897). He calls his first Aborigine to become a familiar “Renfield” (Undying 93), and even includes a soft-porn re-imagining of an encounter between characters he has inter-textually named “Lucy” and “Mina” (Promised 3). This potential for a contemporary transplantation of Stoker’s European characters to Australia was another aspect I sought to explore in my novel, especially regarding semi-autobiographical writing by mixed-race Aboriginal Australians such as Mudrooroo and myself. I wanted to meta-fictionally insert my self-styled anti-hero into a Stoker-inspired milieu. Thus my work features a protagonist who is confused and occasionally ambivalent about his Aboriginal identity. Brought up as Catholic, as I was, he succumbs to an Australian re-incarnation of Stoker’s Dracula as Anti-Christ and finds himself battling the true-believers of the Catholic Church, including a Moroccan version of Professor Van Helsing and a Buffy-like, quasi-Islamic vampire slayer.Despite his once revered status, Mudrooroo is now exiled from the Australian literary scene as a result of his claim to Indigeneity being (apparently) disproven (see Clark). Illness and old age prevent him from defending the charges, hence it is unlikely that Mudrooroo (or Colin Johnson as he was formerly known) will further develop the Aboriginal Australian vampire trope in his writing. Which situation leaves me to cautiously identify myself as the sole Aboriginal Australian novelist exploring Indigenous vampires in his/her creative writing, as evidenced by my 312 page novel That Blackfella Bloodsucka Dance!, which was a prescribed text in a 2014 Indiana University course on World Literature (Halloran).Set in a contemporary Australia where disparate existential explanations including the Aboriginal Dreamtime, Catholicism, vampirism and atheism all co-exist, the writing of my novel was motivated by the question: ‘How can such incongruent ideologies be reconciled or bridged?’ My personal worldview is influenced by all four of these explanations for the mysteries of life and death: I was brought up in Catholicism but schooled in scientific methodology, which evolved into an insipid atheism. Culturally I was drawn to the gothic novel and developed an intellectual interest in Stoker’sDracula and its significance as a pro-Catholic, covert mission of proselytization (see Starrs 2004), whilst simultaneously learning more of my totem, Garrawi (the Sulphur-crested White Cockatoo), and the Aboriginal Dreamtime legends of my ancestral forebears. Much of my novel concerns questions of identity for a relatively light-complexioned, mixed ancestry Aboriginal Australian such as myself, and the place such individuals occupy in the post-colonial world. Mudrooroo, perhaps, was right in surmising that we Aboriginal Australian authors are devoted to writing about “the Indigenous existential being” for my Aboriginal vampire novel is at least semi-autobiographical and fixated on the protagonist’s attempts to reconcile his atheism with his Dreamtime teachings and Catholicism. But Mudrooroo’s writing differs markedly from my own when it comes to the expectations he has regarding the audience’s acceptance of supernatural themes. He apparently fully believed in the possibility of such unearthly spirits existing, and wrote of the “Maban Reality” whereby supernatural events are entirely tenable in the Aboriginal Australian world-view, and the way these matters are presented suggests he expects the reader to be similarly convinced. With this Zeitgeist, Mudrooroo’s ‘Ghost Dreaming’ novels can be accurately described as Aboriginal Gothic. In this genre, Chanady explains, “the supernatural, as well as highly improbable events, are presented without any comment by the magical realist narrator” ("Magic Realism" 431).What, then, is the meaning of Aboriginal Gothic, given we Aboriginal peoples have no haunted castles or mist-shrouded graveyards? Again according to Chanady, as she set out in her groundbreaking monograph of 1985, in a work of Magical Realism the author unquestioningly accepts the supernatural as credible (10-12), even as, according to Althans, it combines “the magical and realist, into a new perspective of the world, thus offering alternative ways and new approaches to reality” (26). From this general categorisation, Althans proposes, comes the specific genre of Aboriginal Gothic, which is Magical Realism in an Indigenous context that creates a “cultural matrix foreign to a European audience [...] through blending the Gothic mode in its European tradition with the myths and customs of Aboriginal culture” (28-29). She relates the Aboriginal Gothic to Mudrooroo’s Maban Reality due to its acting “as counter-reality, grounded in the earth or country, to a rational worldview and the demands of a European realism” (28). Within this category sit not only the works of Aboriginal Australian novelists such as Mudrooroo, but also more recent novels by Aboriginal Australian writers Kim Scott and Alexis Wright, who occasionally indulge in improbable narratives informed by supernatural beings (while steering disappointingly clear of vampires).But there is more to the Aboriginal Gothic than a naïve acceptance of Maban Reality, or, for that matter, any other Magical Realist treatments of Aboriginal Australian mythology. Typically, the work of Aboriginal Gothic writers speaks to the historical horrors of colonisation. In contrast to the usually white-authored Australian Gothic, in which the land down under was seen as terrifying by the awestruck colonisers, and the Aborigine was portrayed as “more frightening than any European demon” (Turcotte, "Australian Gothic" 10), the Aboriginal Gothic sometimes reverses roles and makes the invading white man the monster. The Australian Gothic was for Aborigines, “a disabling, rather than enabling, discourse” (Turcotte, "Australian Gothic" 10) whilst colonial Gothic texts egregiously portrayed the colonised subject as a fearsome and savage Other. Ostensibly sub-human, from a psychoanalytic point of view, the Aborigine may even have symbolised the dark side of the British settler, but who, in the very act of his being subjugated, assures the white invader of his racial superiority, moral integrity and righteous identity. However, when Aboriginal Australian authors reiterate, when we subjugated savages wrestle the keyboard away, readers witness the Other writing back, critically. Receivers of our words see the distorted and silencing master discourse subverted and, indeed, inverted. Our audiences are subjectively repositioned to see the British Crown as the monster. The previously presumed civil coloniser is instead depicted as the author and perpetrator of a violently racist, criminal discourse, until, eventually, s/he is ultimately ‘Gothicised’: eroded and made into the Other, the villainous, predatory savage. In this style of vicious literary retaliation Mudrooroo excelled. Furthermore, as a mixed ancestry Aborigine, like myself, Mudrooroo represented in his very existence, the personification of Aboriginal Gothic, for as Idilko Riendes writes, “The half caste is reminiscent of the Gothic monstrous, as the half caste is something that seems unnatural at first, evoking fears” (107). Perhaps therein lies a source of the vehemency with which some commentators have pilloried Mudrooroo after the somewhat unconvincing evidence of his non-Indigeneity? But I digress from my goal of explicating the meaning of the term Aboriginal Gothic.The boundaries of any genre are slippery and one of the features of postmodern literature is its deliberate blurring of boundaries, hence defining genres is not easy. Perhaps the Gothic can be better understood when the meaning of its polar opposite, the Fantastic, is better understood. Ethnic authorial controversies aside and returning to the equally shady subject of authorial intent, in contrast to the Aboriginal Gothic of novelists Mudrooroo, Scott and Wright, and their accepting of the supernatural as plausible, the Fantastic in literature is characterised by an enlightened rationality in which the supernatural is introduced but ultimately rejected by the author, a literary approach that certainly sits better with my existential atheism. Chanady defined and illustrated the genre as follows: “the fantastic […] reaffirmed hegemonic Western rational paradigms by portraying the supernatural in a contradictory manner as both terrifying and logically impossible […] My examples of the fantastic were drawn from the work of major French writers such as Merimee and Maupassant” ("Magic Realism" 430). Unfortunately, Chanady was unable to illustrate her concept of the Fantastic with examples of Aboriginal horror writing. Why? Because none existed until my novel was published. Whereas Mudrooroo, Scott and Wright incorporated the Magical Realism of Aboriginal Australian mythology into their novels, and asked their readers to accept it as not only plausible but realistic and even factual, I wanted to create a style that blends Aboriginal mythology with the European tradition of vampires, but ultimately rejects this “cultural matrix” due to enlightened rationality, as I deliberately and cynically denounce it all as fanciful superstition.Certainly, the adjective “fantastic” is liberally applied to much of what we call Gothic horror literature, and the sub-genre of Indigenous vampire literature is not immune to this confusion, with non-Australian Indigenous author Aaron Carr’s 1995 Native American vampire novel, The Eye Killers, unhelpfully described in terms of the “fantastic nature of the genre” (Tillett 149). In this novel,Carr exposes contemporary Native American political concerns by skillfully weaving multiple interactive dialogues with horror literature and film, contemporary U.S. cultural preoccupations, postmodern philosophies, traditional vampire lore, contemporary Native literature, and Native oral traditions. (Tillett 150)It must be noted, however, that Carr does not denounce the supernatural vampire and its associated folklore, be it European or Laguna/Kerasan/Navajo, as illogical or fanciful. This despite his “dialogues with […] contemporary U.S. cultural preoccupations [and] postmodern philosophies”. Indeed, the character “Diana” at one stage pretends to pragmatically denounce the supernatural whilst her interior monologue strenuously defends her irrational beliefs: the novel reads: “‘Of course there aren’t any ghosts,’ Diana said sharply, thinking: Of course there were ghosts. In this room. Everywhere” (197). In taking this stock-standard approach of expecting the reader to believe wholeheartedly in the existence of the Undead, Carr locates his work firmly in the Aboriginal Gothic camp and renders commentators such as Tillett liable to be called ignorant and uninformed when they label his work fantastic.The Aboriginal Gothic would leave the reader convinced a belief in the supernatural is non-problematic, whereas the Aboriginal Fantastic novel, where it exists, would, while enjoying the temporary departure from the restraints of reality, eventually conclude there are no such things as ghosts or vampires. Thus, my Aboriginal Fantastic novel That Blackfella Bloodsucka Dance! was intended from the very beginning of the creative writing process to be an existentially diametric alternative to Magical Realism and the Aboriginal Gothic (at least in its climactic denouement). The narrative features a protagonist who, in his defeat, realises the danger in superstitious devotion and in doing so his interior monologue introduces to the literary world the new Aboriginal Fantastic genre. Despite a Foucauldian emphasis in most of my critical analysis in which an awareness of the constructed status and nature of the subject/focus of knowledge undermines the foundations of any reductive typology, I am unhesitant in my claim to having invented a new genre of literature here. Unless there is, undiscovered by my research, a yet-to-be heralded work of Aboriginal horror that recognises the impossibility of its subject, my novel is unique even while my attitude might be decried as hubristic. I am also cognizant of the potential for angry feedback from my Aboriginal Australian kin, for my innovative genre is ultimately denigrating of all supernatural devotion, be it vampiric or Dreamtime. Aboriginal Fantastic writing rejects such mythologies as dangerous, fanciful superstition, but I make the (probably) too-little-too-late defence that it rejects the Indigenous existential rationale somewhat less vigorously than it rejects the existential superstitions of Catholicism and/or vampirism.This potential criticism I will forbear, perhaps sullenly and hopefully silently, but I am likely to be goaded to defensiveness by those who argue that like any Indigenous literature, Aboriginal Australian writing is inherently Magical Realist, and that I forsake my culture when I appeal to the rational. Chanady sees “magic realism as a mode that expresses important points of view, often related to marginality and subalternity” ("Magic Realism" 442). She is not alone in seeing it as the generic cultural expression of Indigenous peoples everywhere, for Bhabha writes of it as being the literature of the postcolonial world (6) whilst Rushdie sees it as the expression of a third world consciousness (301). But am I truly betraying my ancestral culture when I dismiss the Mrart as mere superstition? Just because it has colour should we revere ‘black magic’ over other (white or colourless) superstitions? Should we not suspect, as we do when seated before stage show illusionists, some sleight of (writing) hand? Some hidden/sub-textual agenda meant to entertain not educate? Our world has many previously declared mysteries now easily explained by science, and the notion of Earth being created by a Rainbow Serpent is as farcical to me as the notion it was created a few thousand years ago in seven days by an omniscient human-like being called God. If, in expressing this dubiousness, I am betraying my ancestors, I can only offer detractors the feeble defence that I sincerely respect their beliefs whilst not personally sharing them. I attempt no delegitimising of Aboriginal Australian mythology. Indeed, I celebrate different cultural imaginaries for they make our quotidian existence more colourful and enjoyable. There is much pleasure to be had in such excursions from the pedantry of the rational.Another criticism I might hear out--intellectually--would be: “Most successful literature is Magical Realist, and supernatural stories are irresistible”, a truism most commercially successful authors recognise. But my work was never about sales, indeed, the improbability of my (irresistible?) fiction is didactically yoked to a somewhat sanctimonious moral. My protagonist realises the folly and danger in superstitious devotion, although his atheistic epiphany occurs only during his last seconds of life. Thus, whilst pushing this barrow of enlightened rationality, my novel makes a somewhat original contribution to contemporary Australian culture, presenting in a creative writing form rather than anthropological report, an understanding of the potential for melding Aboriginal mythology with Catholicism, the “competing Dreamtimes, white and black” as Turcotte writes ("Re-mastering" 132), if only at the level of ultimately accepting, atheistically, that all are fanciful examples of self-created beyond-death identity, as real--or unreal--as any other religious meme. Whatever vampire literature people read, most such consumers do not believe in the otherworldly antagonists, although there is profound enjoyment to be had in temporarily suspending disbelief and even perpetuating the meme into the mindsets of others. Perhaps, somewhere in the sub-conscious, pre-rational recesses of our caveman-like brains, we still wonder if such supernatural entities reflect a symbolic truth we can’t quite apprehend. Instead, we use a totemic figure like the sultry but terrifying Count Dracula as a proxy for other kinds of primordial anxieties we cannot easily articulate, whether that fear is the child rapist on the loose or impending financial ruin or just the overwhelming sense that our contemporary lifestyles contain the very seeds of our own destruction, and we are actively watering them with our insouciance.In other words, there is little that is new in horror. Yes, That Blackfella Bloodsucka Dance! is an example of what I call the new genre of Aboriginal Fantastic but that claim is not much of an original contribution to knowledge, other than being the invention of an extra label in an unnecessarily formalist/idealist lexicon of literary taxonomy. Certainly, it will not create a legion of fans. But these days it is difficult for a novelist to find anything really new to write about, genre-wise, and if there is a reader prepared to pay hard-earned money for a copy, then I sincerely hope they do not feel they have purchased yet another example of what the HBO television show Californication’s creative writing tutor Hank Moody (David Duchovny) derides as “lame vampire fiction” (episode 2, 2007). I like to think my Aboriginal Fantastic novel has legs as well as fangs. References Althans, Katrin. Darkness Subverted: Aboriginal Gothic in Black Australian Literature and Film. Bonn: Bonn UP, 2010. Bhabha, Homi. Nation and Narration. London and New York: Routledge, 1990. Bunson, Matthew. The Vampire Encyclopedia. New York: Gramercy Books, 1993. Carr, Aaron A. Eye Killers. Norman: U of Oklahoma P, 1995. Chanady, Amaryll. Magical Realism and the Fantastic: Resolved versus Unresolved Antinomy. New York: Garland Publishing, 1985. Chanady, Amaryll. “Magic Realism Revisited: The Deconstruction of Antinomies.” Canadian Review of Comparative Literature (June 2003): 428-444. Cheung, Theresa. The Element Encyclopaedia of Vampires. London: Harper Collins, 2009. Clark, Maureen. Mudrooroo: A Likely Story: Identity and Belonging in Postcolonial Australia. Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2007. Gelder, Ken. The Oxford Book of Australian Ghost Stories. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1994. Halloran, Vivien. “L224: Introduction to World Literatures in English.” Department of English, Indiana University, 2014. 2 Aug. 2014 ‹http://www.indiana.edu/~engweb/undergradCourses_spring.shtml›. McKee, Alan. “White Stories, Black Magic: Australian Horror Films of the Aboriginal.”Aratjara: Aboriginal Culture and Literature in Australia. Eds. Dieter Riemenschneider and Geoffrey V. Davis. Amsterdam: Rodopi Press (1997): 193-210. Mudrooroo. The Indigenous Literature of Australia. Melbourne: Hyland House, 1997. Mudrooroo. The Undying. Sydney: Harper Collins, 1998. Mudrooroo. The Promised Land. Sydney: Harper Collins, 2000. Reed, Alexander W. Aboriginal Myths, Legends and Fables. Sydney: Reed New Holland, 1999. Riendes, Ildiko. “The Use of Gothic Elements as Manifestations of Regaining Aboriginal Identity in Kim Scott’s Benang: From the Heart.” Topos 1.1 (2012): 100-114. Rushdie, Salman. “Gabriel Garcia Marquez.” Imaginary Homelands: Essays and Criticism 1981-1991. London: Granta and Penguin Books, 1991. Shoemaker, Adam. Mudrooroo. Sydney: Harper Collins, 1993. Starrs, D. Bruno. “Keeping the Faith: Catholicism in Dracula and its Adaptations.” Journal of Dracula Studies 6 (2004): 13-18. Starrs, D. Bruno. That Blackfella Bloodsucka Dance! Saarbrücken, Germany: Just Fiction Edition (paperback), 2011; Starrs via Smashwords (e-book), 2012. Tillett, Rebecca. “‘Your Story Reminds Me of Something’: Spectacle and Speculation in Aaron Carr’s Eye Killers.” Ariel: A Review of International English Literature 33.1 (2002): 149-73. Turcotte, Gerry. “Australian Gothic.” Faculty of Arts — Papers, University of Wollongong, 1998. 2 Aug. 2014 ‹http://ro.uow.edu.au/artspapers/60/›. Turcotte, Gerry. “Re-mastering the Ghosts: Mudrooroo and Gothic Refigurations.” Mongrel Signatures: Reflections on the Work of Mudrooroo. Ed. Annalisa Oboe. Amsterdam: Rodopi Press (2003): 129-151. Unaipon, David. Legendary Tales of the Australian Aborigines. Eds. Stephen Muecke and Adam Shoemaker. Carlton: The Miegunyah Press, 2006.

Boxing is a purely masculine activity and it inhabits a purely masculine world. […] Boxing is for men, and it is about men, and is men. (Joyce Carol Oates) IntroductionWriting about boxing is an intimate, private, and unusual activity. Although a decade has passed since I first “stepped into the ring” (sparring or fighting), I have not engaged with boxing in academic terms. I undertook a doctoral degree from 2012 to 2016, during which I competed and won amateur titles in three different countries. Boxing, in a sense, shadowed my research. My fieldwork, researching heritage foods networks, brought me to various locales, situating my body in reference to participants and academics as well as my textual analysis. My daily interactions and reflections in the boxing gym, though, were marginalised to give priority to my doctorate. In a mirrored journey to Wacquant’s “carnal ethnography of the skilled body” (Habitus 87), I boxed as a hobby. It was a means to escape my life as a doctoral student, my thesis, and the library. Research belonged to the realm of academia; boxing, to the realm of the physical. In this paper, I seek to implode this self-imposed distinction.Practising the “noble art,” as boxing is commonly called, profoundly altered not only my body but also my way of seeing the world, myself, and others. I explore these themes through an autoethnographic account of my experience in the ring. Focusing on sparring, rather than competing, I explore conceptualisations of my face as a material, as well as part of my body, and also as a surface for violence and apprenticeship. Reflecting upon a decade of sparring, the analysis presented in this paper is grounded in the phenomenological tradition whereby knowledge is not an abstract notion that exists over and above felt experience: it is sensed and embodied through practice.I delve into the narratives of my personal “social logic of a bodily craft” of boxing (Wacquant, Habitus 85). More specifically, I reflect upon my experiences of getting hit in the face by men in the ring, and the acclimatisation required, evolving from feelings of intrusion, betrayal, and physical pain to habit, and at times, excitement. As a surface for punching, my face became both material and immaterial. It was a tool that had to be tuned to varying degrees of pain to inform me of my performance as well as my opponent’s. Simultaneously, it was a surface that was abstracted and side-lined in order to put myself purposefully in harm’s way as one does when stepping into the ring. Through reflecting on my face, I consider how the sport offered new embodied experiences through which I became keenly aware of my body as a delineated target for—as well as the source of—violence. In particular, my body boundaries were profoundly reconfigured in the ring: sparring partners demonstrated their respect by hitting me, validating both my body and my skill as a boxer. In this manner, I discuss the spatiality of the ring as eliciting transitions of felt and abstracted pain as well as shaping my self-image as a re-gendered boxer in the ring and out. Throughout my account, I briefly engage with Wacquant’s discussion of “pugilistic habitus” (Body 99) and his claims that boxing is the epitome of masculine valour. In the final section, I conclude with deliberations upon the new bodily awareness(es) I gained through the sport, and the re-materiality I experienced as a strong woman.Methodological and Conceptual FrameworksThe analysis in this paper is based on the hybrid narrative of ethnography and autobiography: autoethnography. In the words of Tami Spry, autoethnography is “a self-narrative that critiques the situatedness of self and others in social context” (710). As such, I take stock in hindsight (Bruner; Denzin) of the evolution of my thoughts on boxing, my stance as a boxer, and the ways the ring has affected my sense of self and my body.Unlike Wacquant's “carnal ethnography” (Habitus 83) whose involvement with boxing was foregrounded in an academic context where he wrote detailed field-notes and conducted participant observation, my involvement was deliberately non-academic until I began to write this paper. Based on hindsight, the data collected through this autoethnography are value-inflected in ways that differ from other modes of data collection. But I have sought to recreate a dialectic between perceptual experience and cultural practices and patterns, in a manner aligned with Csordas’s paradigm of embodiment. My method is to “retrospectively and selectively write about epiphanies that stem from, or are made possible by, being part of a culture” (Ellis et al. 276) of boxing. These epiphanies, as sensed and embodied knowledge, were not solely conceptual moments but also physical realisations that my body performed, such as understanding—and executing—a well-timed slip to the side to avoid a punch.Focusing on my embodied experiences in the ring and out, I have sought to uncover “somatic modes of attention:” the “culturally elaborated ways of attending to and with one’s body in surroundings that include the embodied presence of others” (Csordas 138). The aim of this engagement is to convey my self-representation as a boxer in the ring, which emerged in part through the inter-subjectivity of interacting with other boxers whilst prioritising representations of my face. As such, my personal narrative is enmeshed with insights gleaned during embodied epiphanies I had in the ring, interweaving storytelling with theory.I have chosen to use the conventions of storytelling (Ellis and Ellingson) to explore the defining moments that shaped the image I hold of myself as a boxer. My personal narrative—where I view myself as the phenomenon—seeks “to produce aesthetic and evocative thick descriptions of personal and interpersonal experience” (Ellis et al. 287) whilst striving to remain accessible to a broader audience than within academia (Bochner). Personal narratives offer an understanding of the “self or aspect of a life as it intersects with a cultural context, connect to other participants as co-researchers, and invite readers to enter the author's world and to use what they learn there to reflect on, understand, and cope with their own lives” (Ellis 14; see also Ellis et al. 289).As the focus of my narrative is my face, I used my body, in Longhurst et al.’s words, as the “primary tool through which all interactions and emotions filter in accessing subjects and their geographies” (208). As “the foundation of the entire pugilistic regimen”, the body is the site of an intimate self-awareness, of the “body-sense” (Heiskanen 26). Taking my body as the starting point of my analysis, my conceptual framework is heavily informed by Thrift’s non-representational theory, enabling me to inquire into the “skills and knowledges [people] get from being embodied beings” (127), and specifically, embodied boxers. The analysis presented here is thus based on an “epistemic reflexivity” (Wacquant, Habitus 89) and responds to what Wacquant coins the “pugilistic habitus” (Body 99): a set of acquired dispositions of the boxer. Bourdieu believes that people are social agents who actively construct social reality through “categories of perception, appreciation and action” (30). The boxing habitus needs to be grasped with one’s body: it intermingles “cognitive categories, bodily skills and desires which together define the competence and appetence specific to the boxer” (Wacquant, Habitus 87). Through this habitus, I construct an image of myself not only as a boxer, but also as a re-gendered being, directly critiquing Wacquant’s arguments of the “pugilist” as fundamentally male.Resistance to Female BoxingMischa Merz’s manuscript on her boxing experience is the most accurate narrative I have yet read on female boxing, as a visceral as well as incorporeal experience, which led Merz to question and reconsider her own identity. When Merz published her manuscript in 2000, six years before I put the gloves on, the boxing world was still resisting the presence of women in the ring. In the UK, licenses for boxing were refused to women until 1998, and in New South Wales, Australia, it was illegal for women to compete until December 2008. It was not until 2012 that female boxing became internationally recognised as a sport in its own right. During the London Olympics, after a sulphurous debate on whether women should be made to box in skirts to “differentiate” them from men, women were finally allowed to compete in three weight categories, compared to ten for men.When I first started training in 2006 at the age of 21, I was unaware of the long list of determined and courageous women who had carved their way—and facilitated mine—into the ring, fighting for their right to practise a sport considered men’s exclusive domain. By the time I started learning the “sweet science” (another popular term used for boxing), my presence was accepted, albeit still unusual. My university had decreed boxing a violent sport that could not be allowed on campus. As a result, I only started boxing when I obtained a driving licence, and could attend training sessions off-campus. My desire to box had been sparked five years before, when I viewed Girlfight, a film depicting a young woman’s journey into the ring. Until then, I had never imagined a woman could box, let alone be inspirational in the use of her strength, aggression, and violence; to be strong was, for me, to be manly—which, as a woman, translated as monstrous or a perversion. I suddenly recognised in boxing a possibility to rid myself of the burden of what I saw as my bulk, and transform my body into a graceful pugilist—a fighter.First Sparring SessionTwo months after I had first thrown a punch in my coach’s pad—the gear coaches wear to protect their hands when a boxer is punching them to train—I was allowed into the ring to spar. Building up to this moment, I had anticipated and dreaded my first steps in the ring as the test of my skill and worthiness as a boxer. This moment would show my physical conditioning: whether I had trained and dieted correctly, if I was strong or resilient enough to fight. More crucially, it would lay bare my personality, the strength of my character, the extent of my willpower and belief in myself: it would reveal, in boxing terminology, if I had “heart.” Needless to say I had fantasised often about this moment. It was my initiation into the art of being punched and I hoped I would prove myself a hardened individual, capable of withstanding pain without flinching or retreating.The memory of the first punch to my face—my nose, to be exact—remains clear and vivid. My sparring partner was my coach, a retired boxer who hit me repeatedly in the head during the entirety of my first round. Getting hit in the face for the first time is a profound moment of rupture. Until then, my face had been a bodily surface reserved for affective gestures by individuals of trust: kisses of greeting on the cheeks or caresses from lovers. Only once had I been slapped, in an act of aggression that had left me paralysed with shock and feeling violated. Now in the ring, being punched in the face by a man I trusted, vastly more experienced and stronger than I, provoked a violent reaction of indignation and betrayal. Feelings of deceit, physical intrusion, and confusion overwhelmed me; pain was an entirely secondary concern. I had, without realising, assumed my coach would “go easy” on me, softening his punches and giving me time to react adequately to his attacks as we had practised on the pads. A couple of endless minutes later, I stepped out of the ring, breathless and staring at the floor to hide my tears of humiliation and overwhelming frustration.It is a common experience amongst novices, when first stepping into the ring, to forget everything they have been taught: footwork, defence, combinations, chin down, guard up … etc. They often freeze, as I did, with the first physical contact. Suddenly and concretely, with the immediacy of pain, they become aware of the extent of the danger they have purposely placed themselves in. The disturbance I felt was matched in part by my belief that I was essentially a coward. In an act condemned by the boxing community, I had turned my face away from punches: I tried to escape the ring instead of dominating it. Merz succinctly describes this experience in the boxing realm: “aspects of my character were frequently tossed in my face for assessment. I saw gaping holes in my tenacity, my resilience, my courage, my athleticism” (49). That night, I felt an unfamiliar sting as I took my jumper off, noticing a slight yet painful bruise on the bridge of my nose. It reminded me of my inadequacy and, I believed at the time, a fundamental failure of character: I lacked heart.My Face: A Tool for Sensing and Ignoring PainTo get as accustomed as a punching bag to repeated hits without flinching I had to mould my face into a mask of impassivity, revealing little to my opponent. My face also became a calibrated tool to measure my opponent’s skill, strength, and intent through the levels of pain it would experience. If an opponent repeatedly targeted my nose, I knew the sparring session was not a “friendly encounter.” Most often though, we would nod at each other in acknowledgement of the other’s successful “contact,” such as when their punches hurt my body. The ring is the only space I know and inhabit where the display of physical violence can be interpreted as a “friendly gesture” (Merz 12).Boxers, like most athletes, are carefully attuned to measuring the degrees of pain they undergo during a fight and training, whilst accomplishing the paradoxical feat—when they are hit—of setting aside that pain lest it be a distraction. In other words, boxers’ bodies are both material and immaterial: they are sites for accessing sensory information, notably pain levels, as well as tools that—at times detrimentally—have learned to abstract pain in the effort to ignore physical limitations, impediments or fatigue. Boxers with “heart,” I believe, are those who inhabit this duality of material and immaterial bodies.I have systematically been questioned whether I fear bruising or scarring my face. It would seem illogical to many that a woman would voluntarily engage in an activity that could blemish her appearance. Beyond this concern lies the issue, as Merz puts it, that “physical prowess and femininity seem to be so fundamentally incompatible” (476). My face used to be solely a source of concern as a medium of beautification and the platform from which I believed the world judged my degree of attractiveness. It also served as a marker of distinction: those I trusted intimately could touch my face, others could not. Throughout my training, my face evolved and also became an instrument that I conditioned and used strategically in the ring. The bruises I received attested to my readiness to exchange punches, a mark of valour I came to relish more than looking “nice.”Boxing has taught me how to feel my body in new ways. I no longer inhabit an “absent body” (Leder). I intimately know the border between my skin and the world, aware of exactly how far my body extends into that world and how much “punishment” (getting hit) it can withstand: boxing—which Oates (26) observed as a spectator rather than boxer—“is an act of consummate self-determination—the constant re-establishment of the parameters of one’s being.” A strong initial allure of boxing was the strict discipline it gave to my eating habits, an anchor—and at times, a torture—for someone who suffered from decade-long eating disorders. Although boxing plagued me with the need to “make weight”—to fight in a designated weight category—I no longer sought to be as petite as I could manage. As a female boxer, I was reminded of my gender, and my “unusual” body, as I am uncommonly big, strong, and heavy compared to most female fighters. I still find it difficult to find women to spar with, let alone fight. Unlike in the world outside the gym, though, my size is something I continuously learn to value as an advantage in the ring, a tool for affirmation, and significantly, a means of acceptance by, and equality with, men.The Ring: A Place of Re-GenderingAs sparring became routine, I had an epiphany: what I had taken as an act of betrayal from my coach was actually one of respect. Opponents who threw “honest” (painful) punches esteemed me as a boxer. I have, to this day, very rarely sparred with women. I often get told that I punch “like a guy,” an ability with which I have sought to impress coaches and boxers alike. As such, I am usually partnered with men who believe, as they have told me, that hitting a “girl”—and even worse, hitting a girl in the face—is simply unacceptable. Many have admitted that they fear hurting me, though some have quickly wanted to after a couple of exchanges. I have found that their views of “acceptable” violence seem unchanged after a session, as I believe they have come to view me as a boxer first and as a woman second.It would be disingenuous to omit that boxing attracted me as much for the novelty status I have gained within and outside of it. I have often walked a thin line between revelling in the sense of belonging that boxing provides me—anchored in a feeling that gender no longer matters—and the acute sense of feeling special because I am a woman performing as a man in what is still considered a man’s world. I have wavered between feeling as though I am shrugging off the very notion of gender in the ring, to deeply reconsidering what my gender means to me and the world, embracing a more fluid and performative understanding of gender than I had before (Messner; Young).In a way, my sense of self is shaped conflictingly by the ways in which boxers behave towards me in the ring, and how others see me outside of the boxing gym. As de Bruin and de Haan suggest, my body, in its active dimension, is open to the other and grounds inter-subjectivity. This inter-subjectivity of embodiment—how other bodies constitute my own sensory and perceptual experience of being-in-the-world—remains ambivalent. It has led me to feel at times genderless—or rather, beyond gender—in the ring and, because of this feeling, I simultaneously question and continuously re-explore more vividly what can be understood as “female masculinity” (Halberstam). As training progressed, I increasingly felt that:If women are going to fight, we have to be reminded, at every chance available, time and again, that they are still feminine or capable, at least, of wearing the costume of femininity, being hobbled by high heels and constrained by tight dresses. All female athletes in a way are burdened with having to re-iterate this same public narrative. (Merz)As I learned to box, I also learned to delineate myself alongside the ring: as I questioned notions of gender inside, I consequently sought to reaffirm a specific and static idea of gender through overt femininity outside the ring, as other female athletes have also been seen to do (Duncan). During my first years of training, I was the only woman at the gyms I trained in. I believed I had to erase any physical reminders of femininity: my sport clothes were loose fitting, my hair short, and I never wore jewellery or make-up. I wanted to be seen as a boxer, not a woman: my physical attractiveness was, for once, irrelevant. Ironically, I could not conceive of myself as a woman in the ring, and did not believe I could be seen as a woman in the ring. Outside the gym, I increasingly sought to reassert a stereotypical feminine appearance, taking pleasure in subverting another set of beliefs. People are usually hesitant to visualise a woman in a skirt, without a broken nose, as a competitive fighter with a mouth guard and headgear. As Wacquant succinctly put it, “I led a sort of Dr. Jekyll-and-Mr. Hyde existence” (Habitus 86), which crystallised when one of my coaches failed to recognise me on three occasions outside the gym, in my “normal” clothes.I have now come to resent profoundly the marginal, sensationalised status that being a boxer denotes for a woman. This is premised on particular social norms surrounding gender, which dictate that if a woman boxes, she is not “your usual” woman. I have striven to re-gender my experience, especially in light of the recent explosion of interest in female boxing, where new norms are being established. As I have trained around the world, including in Cuba, France, and the USA, and competed in the UK, Mexico, and Belgium, I have valued the tacit connection between those who practice the “noble art.” Boxing fashions a particular habitus (Bourdieu), the “pugilistic habitus” (Wacquant, Body 12). Stepping into the ring, and being able to handle getting hit in the face, constitutes a common language that boxers around the world, male and female, understand, value, and share; a language that transcends the tacit everyday embodiments of gender and class. Boxing is habitually said to give access to an upward mobility (Wacquant, Habitus; Heiskanen). In my case, as a white, educated, middle-class woman, boxing has given me access to cross-class associations: I have trained alongside men who had been shot in Coventry, were jobless in Cuba, or dealt with drug gangs in Mexico. The ring is an equalising space, where social, gender—and in my experience, ethnic—divides can be smoothed down to leave the pugilistic valour, the property of boxing excellence, as the main metric of appreciation.The freedom I have found in the ring is one that has allowed my gendered identity to be thought of in new and creative ways that invite continuous revision. I have discovered myself not solely through the prism of a gendered lens, but as an emotive athlete, and as a person desperate to be accepted despite—or because of—her physical strength. I find myself returning to Merz’s eloquence: “boxing cannot help but make you question who you really are. You cannot hide from yourself in a boxing ring. It might seem a crazy path to self-knowledge, but to me it has been the most rich, rewarding, and perhaps, the only true one” (111). Using Wacquant’s own words to disprove his theory that boxing is fundamentally a virile activity that reaffirms specific notions of masculinity, to become a boxer is to “efface the distinction between the physical and the spiritual [...] to defy the border between reason and passion” (Body 20). In my view, it is to implode the oppositional definitions that have kept males inside the ring and females, out. The ring, in ways unrivalled elsewhere, has shown me that I am not reducible, as the world has at times convinced me, to my strength or my gender. I can, and indeed do, coalesce and transcend both.ConclusionAfter having pondered the significance of the ring to my life, I now begin to understand Merz’s journey as “so much more than a mere dalliance on the dark side of masculine culture” (21). When I box, I am always boxing against myself. The ring is the ultimate space of revelation, where one is starkly confronted with one’s own weaknesses and fears. As a naked mirror, the ring is also a place for redemption, where one can overcome flaws, and uncover facets of who one is. Having spent almost as much time at university as I have boxing, it was in the ring that I learned that “thinking otherwise entails being otherwise, relating to oneself, one’s body, and ambient beings in a new way” (Sharp 749). Through the “boxing habitus,” I have simultaneously developed a boxer’s body and habits as well as integrated new notions of gender. As an exercise in re-gendering, sparring has led me to reflect more purposefully on the multiplicity of meanings that gender can espouse, and on the possibilities of negotiating the world as both strong and female. Practising the “noble art” has given me new tools with which to carve out, within the structures of the society I inhabit, liberating possibilities of being a pugilistic woman. 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