Journal articles on the topic 'Landofrm'

El cimborrio de la catedral de Santiago compendia los períodos más significativos de su historia y de la sociedad compostelana. El románico, fue incendiado en 1117 por los sublevados compostelanos. A partir del siglo XIII simboliza el discutido señorío episcopal que con el nombramiento del arzobispo Berenguel de Landoira a comienzos del XIV alcanza su cota mas alta. En 1424 se construye otro gótico que con los añadidos barrocos de mediados del XVII llega tan maltrecho que es objeto de una magnífica restauración proyectada y dirigida por Francisco Javier Alonso de la Peña. [gl] O ciborio da catedral de Santiago compendia os períodos máis significativos da súa historia e da sociedade compostelá. O románico, foi incendiado en 1117 polos sublevados composteláns. A partir do século XIII simboliza o discutido señorío episcopal que co nomeamento do arcebispo Berenguel de Landoira a comezos do XIV alcanza a seu nivel máis alto. En 1424 constrúese outro gótico que cos engadidos barrocos de mediados do XVII chega tan maltreito que é obxecto dunha magnífica restauración proxectada e dirixida por Francisco Javier Alonso de la Peña.

Auxins, medium salt concentrations, and their interactive effects on rooting of two winter-hardy roses (Rosa kordesii Wulff `John Franklin' and `Champlain') and two hybrid teas (Rosa hybrida `John Paul II' and `Landora') were studied. The auxins (in mg·liter–1) IAA (0, 0.3, 1.5, 3.0, 6.0, or 15.0), IBA (0, 0.1, 0.2, 0.5, 1.0, or 3.0), and NAA (0, 0.1, 0.2, 0.5, 1.0, or 3.0) each were combined factorially with modified Murashige and Skoog (MS) medium (1/4, 1/2, 3/4, and full MS concentrations) and were tested for optimal rooting response. `John Franklin', `John Paul II', and `Landora' rooted well with low or no auxin and medium to high salt concentrations. Optimum rooting for `Champlain' was achieved with high IAA and low salts or with intermediate IBA and NAA concentrations and low to medium salts. The interactive effects of auxins and medium salts for `Champlain' showed that as salt concentration increased, the amount of IBA or NAA required for optimal rooting also increased. The effects of auxins and medium concentrations on root counts per shoot were similar to those for percent rooting. Adding auxin to the medium reduced root length for all cultivars, but salt concentration had a minimal effect. Roots generally were shortest at the highest IBA and NAA concentrations. Salt concentration had little effect on root length. Chemical names used: 1H-indole-3-acetic acid (IAA); 4-(3-indolyl)-butyric acid (IBA); α-naphthaleneacetic acid (NAA).

W Austrii, Czechach, RFN i na Słowacji istnieje całkiem znacząca regulacja szczególna dotycząca funkcjonowania miejscowości uzdrowiskowych i uzdrowisk. W państwach federalnych (w Austrii i RFN) jest ona tworzona zarówno na poziomie federalnym, jak i landowym, jednak z większą intensywnością na tym drugim poziomie. Regulacja każdego z analizowanych państw ma służyć zapewnieniu publicznej gwarancji jakości właściwości naturalnych miejscowości uzdrowiskowych i uzdrowisk. Jednocześnie owa regulacja ogranicza wybór wariantów rozwojowych takich miejscowości i miejsc. Koszt alternatywny jest w tym wypadku pokrywany przez premie cenowe za usługi w nich świadczone, jak również w postaci specjalnych podatków. Dochody z nich są jednak znaczone w tym sensie, że muszą być przeznaczane na rozwój cech i funkcji uzdrowiskowych danej miejscowości. Warto podkreślić, że w badanych systemach prawnych nie stwierdzono szczególnego, dostępnego jedynie dla miejscowości uzdrowiskowych i dla nich zaprojektowanego, systemu subwencjonowania z budżetów regionalnych czy centralnych.

El pulso entre Papado e Imperio ha sido una constante en el contexto de la teoría política de la Edad Media. La oposición entre ambos tuvo en los años 20 del siglo XIV un nuevo episodio en el panorama europeo: el enfrentamiento material, doctrinal y político entre Juan XXII y Luis de Baviera, con los Visconti de Milán como peones destacados, y al hilo del cual se empezarán a delimitar las posiciones en la pre-configuración de los Estados Modernos. Este artículo analiza las cuatro comunicaciones relativas a la cuestión que el papa Juan XXII dirige entre 1324 y 1330 al arzobispo de Santiago de Compostela, Berenguel de Landoira, bien próximo al pontífice. Tales fuentes, no localizadas por lo de ahora en otras sedes y de las cuales editamos un documento, permiten desarrollar la incidencia del cambio en la teoría política en el noroeste peninsular así como el seguimiento de la cuestión.

Protocols were developed for propagation of Rosa hybrida cv. Landora and Mussaenda erythrophylla cv. Rosea via somatic embryogenesis by manipulating growth regulators and culture conditions. Calli were induced from young leaf explants of Rosa hybrida cv. Landora and Mussaenda erythrophylla cv. Rosea on Murashige, Skoog medium supplemented with 6-benzylaminopurine or kinetin along with indole-3-acetic acid or 2,4-dichloroacetic acid within four weeks of culture. The calli were subcultured either in the same medium or in a modified medium for induction of embryogenic callus. Embryogenic calli in rose were developed on Murashige, Skoog medium supplemented with 0.5–1.0 mg/l 6-benzylaminopurine, 2.0 mg/l 2,4-dichloroacetic acid, and 400–800 mg/l l-proline or l-glutamine. The results showed that stimulation of auxin-induced somatic embryogenesis by proline has a great impact on development of somatic embryos and secondary somatic embryogenesis in rose. In Mussaenda, embryogenic calli were developed on Murashige, Skoog medium supplemented with 0.5–1.0 mg/l 6-benzylaminopurine, 2.0–3.0 mg/l indole-3-acetic acid, and 10 mg/l ascorbic acid. Somatic embryos were isolated and transferred to half-strength Murashige, Skoog medium supplemented with 0.25–0.5 mg/l 6-benzylaminopurine + 0.1 mg/l gibberelic acid + 5.0 mg/l adenine sulfate and 2% sucrose for maturation and germination. About 70% somatic embryos of Mussaenda germinated. The rose somatic embryos, however, did not germinate. The somatic embryos of rose, when incubated in the dark at 4°C for two weeks and transferred to 1/2 strength Murashige, Skoog medium supplemented with 0.5 mg/l 6-benzylaminopurine, 0.25 mg/l gibberelic acid, and 2% sucrose, showed 60% germination. The seedlings showed a distinct shoot development but the radicles were blunt without well-defined root system. The shoots were harvested and cultured in the multiplication medium containing Murashige, Skoog medium supplemented with 1.0 mg/l 6-benzylaminopurine and 0.1 mg/l indole-3-acetic acid for four weeks and then subcultured in the same medium for further multiplication. The somatic embryos of Mussaenda erythrophylla cv. Rosea germinated into normal plantlets with distinct shoot and well-developed root system. The somatic embryo-derived plantlets grew normally and flowered within two months of transfer to the field.

El estudio de la ciudad medieval de Santiago de Compostela viene marcado generalmente por el ámbito eclesiástico, materializado en su catedral, el episcopado y la peregrinación. Estos análisis han dejado ciertos segmentos necesitados de profundidad a la hora de definir las relaciones sociales y de poder político en una de las principales urbes peninsulares de señorío eclesiástico; es el caso, principalmente, del poder concejil y su relación con el poder feudal compostelano. Este artículo ofrece una aproximación y sistematización monográfica de la institución urbana en los siglos medievales, atendiendo principalmente a sus integrantes (justicias, notarios y guardianes del sello, a los que se añaden luego regidores y homes boos) en tiempos del concilium y del regimiento, y a las funciones que desarrolla, a saber: urbanismo; justicia; orden público; economía común; y abastecimiento y comercio.AbstractThe study of the medieval city of Santiago de Compostela is generally centred on the ecclesiastical sphere, characterized by its cathedral, the episcopacy and the pilgrimage route. This analysis has left certain segments of study in need of further research in order to define social and political relationships in one of the main Peninsular cities of ecclesiastical lordship. This is primarily the case of the town council and its relation to the main Compostelan feudal power. This article offers an initial examination of the urban institution in the later medieval period. The purpose is to unveil its structure after a brief look at its evolution up to the later Middle Ages. This analysis will focus on its members in the second half of the thirteenth century (justices, notaries and keepers of the seal); the materialization of power as viewed in the records of the first third of the fourteenth century with respect to a royal privilege negotiated by the prelate Berenguel de Landoira; and with the members of the town council in the fifteenth century and the consent of the regidores and procuradores. The analysis will conclude with a sketch of the main functions assumed by the institution, namely urbanism, justice, public order, economic issues, and supply and trade.

The population of Erysiphe graminis f. sp. hordei Em. Marchal, Bipolaris sorokiniana Shoem. and Drechslera teres Ito. was found to be the most widespread in the central forest-steppe of Ukraine. Drechslera graminea Ito and Puccinia hordei Otth. were not common. For an average of 7 years of research, the sources of the disease complex have been identified on a provocative background. Resistance (lesions up to 10.0 %) to two diseases – Erysiphe graminis and Drechslera teres were characterized by the following varieties: Etyket, Obolon, Parnas, Khadar, Edem, Pivdennyi, Koloryt (Ukraine), Josefin (France), Ebson, Malz, Aspen (Czech Republic), Barke, Bojos, Breemar, Brenda, Landora, Madeira, Danuta, Adonis, Сlass (Germany), Vivaldi, Eunova, Secuva (Austria). Complex resistance (lesions up to 10.0 %) to three diseases – Erysiphe graminis, Bipolaris sorokiniana and Drechslera teres were characterized by the following varieties: Aspekt, Dokaz (Ukraine), Hanka, Kuburas (Germany), STN 115 (Poland). The recessive genes mlo: mlo9, mlo11 and the combination of genes: mlo + Mla13 + Ml (La), mlo + Mla1 and mlo + Mla12 have been shown to be highly effective for Erysiphe graminis for a long time. High resistance and resistance were characterized by varieties protected by these resistance genes: Adonis, Barke, Bojos, Aspen, Сlass, Danuta, Eunova, Josefin, Breemar і Madeira. In spring barley varieties that showed disease resistance, structural analysis was performed by plant height, number of stems, spike length, number of grains, and weight of spikelets. In terms of length, number of grains and weight of grain of the main ear, the following varieties were better than the standard: Kuburas, Koloryt, Troichan, Barke, Danuta, Hanka, Ievroprestyzh, Sanktrum and others. Dedicated sources and donors of resistant varieties of spring barley to common pathogens can be used for immunity selection. Selected varieties by yield are the material for the selection of spring barley as a source of valuable features. These varieties are involved in hybridization. Key words: varieties, immunological monitoring, resistance, Erysiphe graminis, Bipolaris sorokiniana і Drechslera teres, valuable crop features, sources, donors.

The problem faced by the village government Pabelan is: (i) What is the ‘landof the village treasury managed optimally in supporting the food needs for the people(households) in Pabelan Village?, (ii) Is rice farm in the village that has been done inan efficient Pabelan?, (iii) How is the formulation of government’s role model villagethrough ‘barn institution (LPD)’ village in the management of food reserves in thevillage Pabelan? And (iv) How is the formulation of models of sustainable management of food reserves to ensure the establishment of food sovereignty (the production, availability and access to food) in the Village Pabelan. In general, the purpose of this activity is to design a management policy of food security (rice) at the village level associated with efforts to optimize the utilization of land and the village treasury LPD strategic role as a buffer stock at the village level. This method is suitable is in the format of coaching and / or community service as well as facilitating forums organized jointly involving the mayor and 12 villages and communities as key stakeholders in the management of food security. Application of food stock management in the village Pabelan expected to have implications for government policy Pabelan significant village, namely: (i) Optimizing the management of ‘treasury village land for food (rice) for people (households) in the Village Pabelan, (ii) Efficiency Pabelan rice farm in the village in order to increase income of rice farmers in the village Pabelan, (iii) Strengthening the coordination of management of the stocks (reserves) in the Village Pabelan food through the village barn (LLP), Village, and (iv) The management of food reserves in a sustainable manner so as to ensure the formation of food sovereignty (production, availability and access to food) in the Village Pabelan.

<p>ABSTRAK</p><p>Kalimantan Tengah mempunyai potensi lahan kering seluas 7,7 jutahektar, namun belum dimanfaatkan secara optimal. Salah satu upaya untukmemanfaatkan lahan tersebut adalah melaksanakan budidaya khususnyanilam. Produktivitas terna kering di tingkat petani masih rendah yaitu 1-1,5ton/ha/tahun. Produktivitas tersebut masih dapat ditingkatkan denganmenggunakan varietas unggul, penanaman nilam pada daerah yang sesuai,dan pemberian pupuk. Penelitian lapangan dilaksanakan di Desa Keruing,Kecamatan Pundu, Kabupaten Kotawaringin Timur mulai bulan November2003 sampai dengan Oktober 2004. Ketinggian tempat lokasi penelitian 17meter di atas permukaan laut (dpl), jenis tanah ultisol dan tipe iklim B 1.Penelitian ini bertujuan untuk mengetahui adaptasi klon dan pemupukannilam yang sesuai di lahan kering Rancangan yang digunakan adalahrancangan acak kelompok (RAK) diulang sebanyak 5 kali. Perlakuanterdiri dari 4 paket teknologi (klon dan pemupukan anorganik) yang terdiridari : A= Klon Aceh tanpa pupuk anorganik (Kontrol); B = Klon Acehdengan pupuk anorganik; C = Klon Sidikalang tanpa pupuk anorganik; danD = Klon Sidikalang dengan pupuk anorganik. Parameter yang diamatimeliputi tinggi tanaman, jumlah cabang, berat terna segar, berat ternakering, produksi minyak dan mutu minyak. Analisis teknis agronomisuntuk mengevaluasi penerapan teknologi budidaya, mengguna-kanANOVA (Analysis of Variance) sedangkan untuk membandingkan antararata-rata pengamatan setiap variabel yang diuji menggunakan Uji BedaNyata Jujur (BNJ) 5%. Hasil penelitian menunjukkan bahwa perlakuanklon Sidikalang dengan aplikasi pupuk anorganik (240 kg urea + 70 kg SP-36 kg + 140 kg KCl/ha) menghasilkan produksi minyak sebesar 127,97kg dengan kadar PA (Patchouli alkohol) 27,96%.</p><p>Kata kunci : Pogostemon cablin BENTH, lahan kering, klon, pupukanorganik, Kalimantan Tengah</p><p>ABSTRACT</p><p>Adaptation test of Sidikalang clone patchouli in dry landof Central Kalimantan</p><p>Central Kalimantan has potential dry land which covers in area of7.7 million hectare, however it has not yet been optimally used. One effortfor making use of this area is by farming patchouli. The productivity of drybiomass in farmers level is very low 1 – 1.5 ton/ha/year. The productivitycan be increased by using superior variety planting on suitable land andfertilizer application. A field trial was conducted at the Keruing Village,Pundu District, Kotawaringin Timur Regency, from November 2003 toOctober 2004. The location altitude was 17 meter above sea level, soil typeultisols and climate type B 1 according to Oldeman classification. Theobjective of the research was to find out the best variety and dosage offertilizer in dry land. The research used a randomized block design, withfive replications. The treatments tested were four packages of technology(clone and inorganic fertilizer), comprised of A = Aceh clone withoutinorganic fertilizer (Control); B = Aceh clone with inorganic fertilizer, C =Sidikalang clone without inorganic fertilizer, and D = Sidikalang clonewith inorganic fertilizer. According to that circumstance conducted thevarious studies as follows : plant growth, number of branch, fresh herbs,dry herbs, oil yield and Patchouli Alcohol content (PA). For evaluating theagronomical characteristic used ANOVA and Honestly SignificantDifferent (BNJ) 5%. The result showed that combination Sidikalang cloneand inorganic fertilizer (240 kg urea + 70 kg SP-36 kg + 140 kg KCl/ha)produced as much as 127.97 kg oil with Patchouli alcohol (PA) content27.96%.</p><p>Key words : Pogostemon cablin BENTH, dry land, clone, inorganicfertilizer, Central Kalimantan</p>

Proses penunjukan langsung PT. PERTAMINA kepada LANDOR dalam kasus pengadaan jasa pembuatan logo baru PT. PERTAMINA (Persero) bersifat diskriminasi karena PT. PERTAMINA (Persero) menunjuk LANDOR sebagai pengembang tunggal dari proyek pembuatan logo baru PT. PERTAMINA (Persero) tanpa melalui proses lelang tender serta tidak menghiraukan sama sekali penawaran yang diajukan oleh perusahaan- perusahaan lainnya yang sebagai pesaing dari LANDOR. Praktek diskriminasi yang dilakukan PT. PERTAMINA (Persero) menyebabkan penguasaan pasar dan melanggar Pasal 19 huruf d Undang-Undang Nomor 5 Tahun 1999 yang di atur secara Rule of reason. Diskriminasi yang dilakukan PT. PERTAMINA (Persero) menimbulkan dampak negatif bagi persaingan di bidang jasa pembuatan Logo.Kata Kunci : diskriminasi, tender

<div>Denne suver&aelig;ne bog, der forbinder&nbsp;istidens blokke med de tilh&oslash;rende&nbsp;oprindelsessteder i &Oslash;sters&oslash;omr&aring;det&nbsp;(tiln&aelig;rmelsesvist) samt fund ved lokale&nbsp;kyster og landomr&aring;der. Et omr&aring;de&nbsp;der geografisk d&aelig;kker Finland i&nbsp;nord, de baltiske lande i &oslash;st, det&nbsp;nordlige og centrale Tyskland i syd&nbsp;og Holland i vest.</div>

Abstract Cyclic and polycyclic compounds containing moieties such as imidazole, pyrazole, isoxazole, thiazoline, oxazine, indole, benzothiazole and benzoxazole benzimidazole are prized molecules because of the various pharmaceutical properties that they display. This led Prof. Landor and co-workers to engage in the synthesis of several of them such as alkylimidazolenes, oxazolines, thiazolines, pyrimidopyrimidines, pyridylpyrazoles, benzoxazines, quinolines, pyrimidobenzimidazoles and pyrimidobenzothiazolones. This review covers the synthesis of biologically active heterocyclic compounds by the Michael addition and the double Michael addition of various amines and diamines on allenic nitriles, acetylenic nitriles, hydroxyacetylenic nitriles, acetylenic acids and acetylenic aldehydes. The heterocycles were obtained in one step reaction and in most cases, did not give side products. A brief discussion on the biological activities of some heterocycles is also provided.

RESUMO O artigo reflete sobre os discursos literários e visuais do jardim e da natureza que há em determinadas obras dos poetas e escritores Jacques Delille, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe e Edgar Allan Poe. Inicialmente apresenta-se uma bibliografia atual dedicada a interpretar as imbricações entre a literatura e a jardinagem para, em seguida, abordar a representação dos jardins no poema “Os jardins” (1782) de Delille, no romance As afinidades eletivas (1809) de Goethe e em dois contos de Poe - O domínio de Arnheim ou o jardim-paisagem (1842) e A cottage de Landor. Um caminhante no domínio de Arnheim (1846). A narrativa do texto considera as duas formas de jardins do século XVIII - a de “gosto francês” e o “jardim-paisagem” - como alegorias de diferentes cosmovisões, as quais dizem respeito, sobretudo, à maneira como o ser humano se relaciona com seus pares e com a natureza. A metodologia emprega uma abordagem interdisciplinar com foco na estética, na literatura, na história da arte e na arquitetura.

Ecological and agrochemical certification of farm land and forage landof such agriculturalenterprises as LLC «Zhyva Zemlia Potutory» in the village of Potutory, Berezhany district, Ternopil region and LLC «Krona» in the village of Zhukiv, Berezhany district, Ternopil region has been conducted. Soil has been characterized according to the content of humus, nitrogen (which is easily hydrolyzed), moving phosphorus, exchange potassium, moving type of sulphur as well as according to the soil acidity (pH and hydrolytic). The dynamics of weight indices of the main agrochemical characteristics of ashen–gray soil have been determined. It has been determined, that the indices have greater variability at the level of a separate field and it is less at the level of an enterprise. Having analyzed the indices of the agrochemical state of the soil of farm land and forage land of such agricultural enterprises as LLC «Zhyva Zemlia Potutory» in the village of Potutory, Berezhany district, Ternopil region and LLC “Krona”in the village of Zhukiv, Berezhany district, Ternopil region, is has been determined, that the soil have satisfactory agrochemical properties and are characterized by optimum conditions for growing crops and obtaining full value yields. The limiting factor is low content of nitrogen, which is easily hydrolyzed.

Abstrak Mangrove adalah ekosistem pesisir transisi yang unik, tumbuh diantara lingkungan laut dan terestrial, penyebaran umumnya terbatas pada daerah tropis dan subtropis di seluruh dunia.Menyediakan berbagai layanan ekologi, ekonomi serta sosial.Efektif berfungsi sebagai pelindung lahan daratan pesisir pulau kecil.The purpose of this study is to determine the adaptive capacity of mangrove ecosystems on Maitara Island.Penelitian ini dilakukan dengan metodePengukuran Kapasitas Adaptif Ekosistem Mangrove.Hasil penelitian ini ditemukan sebanyak 4 spesies mangrove yaitu, Rhizophora apiculata,R. mucronata, R. stylosa danSoneratia alba, terdiri dari 2 genera,Rhizophora, dan Sonneratia.Nilai indeks dominasi sebesar 0,57, dominasi sedang oleh R. apiculata.Kerapatan pohon per hektar sebanyak 789 tegakan.Nilai kapasitas adaptif ekosistem mangrove di pulau Maitara sebesar 0,44, yang berarti bahwa kapastias adaptif mangrove pulau tersebut“sedang”. Kata kunci: Kapasitas Adaptif, Mangrove, Pulau Kecil-Mikro. AbstractMangroves are unique transitional coastal ecosystems, growing between marine and terrestrial environments, the spread is generally limited to tropical and subtropical regions around the world. Providing a variety of ecological, economic and social services. Effectively serves as a protector coastal landof small island. The purpose of this study is to determine the adaptive capacity of mangrove ecosystems on Maitara Island. This research was conducted using the Mangrove Ecosystem Adaptive Capacity Measurement method. The results of this study found as many as 4 mangrove species, that isRhizophora apiculata, R. mucronata, R. stylosa and Soneratia alba, consisting of 2 genera,Rhizophora, and Sonneratia. Dominance index value is 0.57, moderate dominance by R. apiculata. Tree density per hectare is 789 stands. The value of the adaptive capacity of the mangrove ecosystem on the island of Maitara is 0.44, which means that the island's mangrove adaptive capacity is "medium". Keywords: Adaptive Capacity, Mangrove, Micr-Small Island.

In the wake of the January 2015 attacks on Charlie Hebdo, (a satirical newspaper in Paris), there was much commentary on free speech, security, intelligence and the marginalization and dispossession of some young Muslim immigrants (and children of immigrants). Analysis has seemed, reasonably, to focus on economic opportunities, as well as addressing some identity and cultural issues, such as whether or not female Muslims should be allowed to wear a headscarf. The media reported that the two young men who seem to have led the attack on Charlie Hebdo had dropped out from school, going on to work low-wage jobs such as pizza delivery. Little of the news coverage details their education beyond that they were remembered as average Parisian boys, as media coverage focused of course on live breaking events, with less in-depth analysis of the social, economic and political factors driving the broader conflict between European and North American states and their Muslim immigrant residents and citizens. The Charlie Hebdo attacks, like 9/11, were only one expression of this broader escalating and expanding conflict. The academic literature does discuss in depth the history of France’s colonization of countries such as Algeria and Morocco, as well as the racist oppression and economic marginalization Maghrebi immigrant families face—even two generations later. (Bienkowski, 2010; Bowen 2007; Cesari 2002; Franz 2007; Limage 2010; Keaton 2005; Jugé and Perez 2006; Landof and Pagan 2005; Levine 2004; Mahmood 2006; Zimmerman 2015). This paper will thus explore the question of whether there is a “school to terror” pipeline—that is, is there anything about the pedagogy, curriculum, school culture or educational policies of France which might well be contributing to the radicalization of young people? I will conclude with consideration of what peace pedagogy might be able to contribute in terms of conflict transformation.

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