Articoli di riviste sul tema "Mythology, Classical – Poetry"

Notes the presence of references to classical mythology throughout modern culture, and offers an annotated list of 43 works of contemporary fiction, poetry, and drama that use mythological sources and that can help close the gap between today’s students and the gods and goddesses, heroes and monsters of long ago.

Abstract: This essay represents the first scholarly assessment of the complete works of the Elizabethan poet and translator Richard Linche (fl. 1596–1601). Linche was interested in classical mythology, sonnet writing, and prose translation. He was also concerned with the burning literary questions of the 1590s and early seventeenth century. This article analyzes Linche’s sonnet sequence Diella (1596) and his love poem The Love of Dom Diego and Gynevra (1596), highlighting Linche’s use of ancient mythology as an ideal vehicle for exploring personal passion in contemporary poetry. It then turns to Linche’s English translation of the Italian mythographer Vincenzo Cartari, The Fountaine of Ancient Fiction (1599) , to illustrate how Linche deals with mythology as an inspiration for literature. Linche identifies myth as an appealing source for contemporary writing while displaying discomfort with some of its sexual content. Finally, this article discusses Linche’s An Historical Treatise of the Travels of Noah into Europe (1601), placing the work in the larger picture of his literary career and suggesting that it was a euhemeristic response to his earlier explorations of myth. In contrast to Linche’s earlier works, The Travels offers a de-personalized and desexualized approach to myth. By providing the first detailed critical assessment of Richard Linche’s oeuvre, this essay reveals an Elizabethan writer who was interested in what inspires fiction, particularly in the complicated moral issues surrounding the sensuality of classical mythology and the role of eroticism in contemporary poetry.

The article analyses the influence of Ancient Greek philosophy and mythology, noticeable in the poetry of Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen. The results of the analysis show that Sophia de Mello’s poetry, seemingly non-philosophic, is based on the ideas close to the theories proposed by ancient philosophers from Pre-Socratics philosophers to Socrates, Plato and Aristotle. The ideas of the unity between the human being and the Universe, as well as Plato’s theory of the Truth, the Good and the Beauty gain the special importance for the Portuguese writer. The ancient myths are reinterpreted by Sophia de Mello. The Ancient Greece is represented as the symbol of harmony between the human being and the Nature.

The article makes an attempt of the overall analysis of the peculiarities of symbolism of the bird «eagle» in author’s and folk poetry in the context of ethnic cultures of the United Kingdom, the USA and Ukraine, classical and Ukrainian mythology, as well as British history. It traces the continuity of established dominant features of this ornithological image-symbol.

The work of Luis de Góngora (1561–1627) arguably represents the peak of early Baroque poetic mythography, but even if myth is a recurring element in Gongorine poetry its appearance varies greatly. From the youthful poetry to the major works of the first decades of the 17th century and beyond we find important nuances and a recurring revaluation and redefinition of myth. Thus, starting off by the both moral and sensual interpretation characteristic of Renaissance literature in the early sonnets, passing through Ovidian aetiology in the Fábula de Polifemo y Galatea and the philosophical meditation on myth in the Soledades, the poet reaches the satirical-burlesque with a moral flavour in the Fábula de Píramo y Tisbe. However, underlying all these different phases we find a persistent ambiguity rooted in the ambiguous post-classical reception of Greco-Roman mythology. On the background of a brief survey of the ambiguous concept of classical mythology permeating Góngora’s work from beginning to end, the present article particularly explores the meditative phase of the Soledades, arguing its importance for our understanding of the Baroque period as well as for the origin of what may be termed the tradition of ’mythological literature’.

This essay examines the explicit references to Greek literature in Catalan poetry since 1980. For the first time, it examines how the Catalan poets include the mythology, philosophy and art of classical Hellas today – after the formative "noucentist" tradition of Carles Riba and Salvador Espriu – in their works. The diverse reception of Greek motifs is illustrated using selected examples. The subject areas are limited to a few central myths – primarily to the figure of the cunning Ulysses.

This article traces the complex and potent role of classical mythology in the poet George Barker's work of the 1930s. Noting Geoffrey Grigson's rage about ‘narcissism’ when reviewing Barker in 1935 it shows why this barb was more perceptive and apposite – in acknowledging an obsession with both a figure and an overtly classical precedent – than the acclamation given to Barker at the time, from T. S. Eliot among others. Central to the article is an exploration of Barker's heterodox version of a common modernist urge: encountering and reworking of fractured myths. For the radical and ever-present notions of uncertainty with which classical tales and Gods are treated in Barker's work is also revelatory of the autodidactic process – incomplete, unstable, and without class-annotated cultural authority – by which he gained such knowledge. The article thus situates Barker within a cultural matrix, and draws renewed attention to the pluralities of poetry within 1930s Britain.

Mythology has become an intrinsic part of literature for the symbolic, structural and functional values it imparts to a text. Although the use of myths and legends in literature has been transformed contextually over the different literary periods, modern writers extensively reappropriated and used them to portray the complexity of the theme and narrative structure of a text. They illustrated the contemporary fragmented reality and individual experience through myths. By incorporating myths in a text, modern writers sometimes created fictionalized and artificial myths of their own. American poet Sylvia Plath made personalized use of myths and legends in her poetry. The paper shows how she, as a confessional poet, amalgamates her personal anxiety and distress with characters and symbols from diverse mythological sources such as the story of Medusa, Medea, Persephone, Electra etc. Apart from classical myths, she incorporated European folktales, Norse and Arthurian myths. Her extensive use of myths portrays the condition of women and the role of patriarchy from a feminist perspective. It also illustrates her attitude toward her father and mother, her distress, agony and suicidal attempts and sometimes expresses her views on life and the contemporary world. Like many modern poets, she turned away from the traditional and orthodox poetic practice and rechanneled her individual crises into poetry which is full of mythological symbols and images.

Serial killers have been a popular topic in literature for centuries, appearing in works of fiction, non-fiction, and even poetry. In literature, serial killers often represent the dark side of human nature, and their stories often explore the depths of depravity and the psychological motivations behind their heinous acts. Examples of serial killers can be found throughout history and mythology. With all that the public’s attention is usually focused on the serial murders of the latest decades, with the historical cases still generally remaining in the obscure. The reason for that lack of publicity is that serial killers in antiquity are difficult to identify, because the concept of serial killing is a relatively modern one. One of the pleasant exceptions is a book by Debbie Felton “Monsters and Monarchs: Serial Killers in Classical Myths and History” published by University of Texas Press, 2021, 235 pp., ISBN: 978-1-4773-2357-1 (paperback edition). This article reviews the book and comments on its contents and style.

In Maksimilian Vološin’s poetry and criticism classical antiquity does not predominate over other themes, yet at the same time we can argue that Greek antiquity reverberates throughout his work. Vološin tackled the theme of archaism in an essay published in the first issue of Apollon. Pavel Muratov criticized it harshly, considering unacceptable its confusion of archaism and archaicization. Vološin was not actually archaicizing antiquity : he was refashioning it through the use of archetypes. It is thus necessary to study antiquity in Vološin not only in the light of classical philology and mythology, but also through the prism of archetypes, with a particular focus on the archetypes linked to stiffness, to the rigidity of stones. In Athens, for instance, Vološin reacted to the Acropolis with an astonishment that was not associated with the point of view of the philologist or the art scholar, but privileged instead the point of view of the stonecutter-phenomenologist.

Grundtvig ’s Norse Mythological Imagery - An Experiment that Failed?By Flemming Lundgreen-NielsenSince his early youth, Grundtvig worked frequently and diligently with Norse mythology. From 1805 to 1810 he tried in a scholarly way to sort out its original sources and accordingly its ancient meanings, though Grundtvig even as a philologist preferred to give spontaneous enthusiasm aroused by a synthetic vision a priority above linguistic proofs (Norse Mythology, 1808). After a pause of some years, Grundtvig in 1815 returned to Norse mythology, allowing himself a more free and subjective interpretation in lieu of an all-encompassing conception. From now on aiming to turn the Norse myths into an accessible store of modeme national imagery, he adapted a favourable evaluation of Snorri’s Edda, which until then he had been regarding as late, distorted information.Drawing mainly upon previously unprinted material the paper demonstrates, how Grundtvig around 1820, 1832, in the 1840’s and during the Schleswig-Holstein war 1848-50 tried to revive Snorri’s Edda for actual commonday use. To put Grundtvig’s opinions in a historical perspective, other contemporary statements are included, such as a Copenhagen press and pamphlet feud on the potential usefulness of Norse mythology to sculptors and painters (1820-21) and a public lecture in favour of Greek mythology and Christian civilization given by professor Madvig (1844).Grundtvig’s own attempts to mobilize the Norse gods in current affairs are illustrated in selected examples from his poetical works. The conclusion indicates that his project was a failure: none of his ballads and poems popular then and today deal with Norse mythology, and although his Norse Mythology, 1832, became a handbook for teachers of the Folk Highschools, neither later poets nor philosophers employed the Norse mythological imagery he recommended. In the war 1848-50 Grundtvig wanted to take advantage of situations from myths and legends such as Thor battling the giant Hrungnir and prince Uffe the Meek killing two Saxons, but the majority of the Danes cherished heroes of the people such as the brave unknown army soldier celebrated in a 1858-statue and the little homblower from a bestselling verse epic. At the end of his life, Grundtvig continued to write poetry in Norse mythological terms, but apparently made no efforts to get his manuscripts printed - why is not known.Among the reasons to be suggested for the failure of Grundtvig’s Norse mythological imagery, the victorious ideas in Romantic 19. century poetry and arts pertaining to originality and individualism, the prominent place of traditional classical mythology in the minds of the cultured public, and the political emphasis in the mid century period on democratization are probably most decisive.Finally attention is given to the fact that the proverbial phrase about ’freedom to Loki as well as to Thor’, the only surviving popular dictum from Grundtvig’s Norse mythological writings, almost invariably is misunderstood to be a token of boundless tolerance to both parties in the struggle between good and evil. However, several instances can be mentioned to prove that Loki, mythologically half god, half giant, in Grundtvig’s understanding does not represent evil as much as a gifted intellectualism without religious faith, possessing potential to acquire it.An English version of the paper with less regard to quotes from unprinted Grundtvig manuscripts and more attention to introductory paragraphs on Danish literary history is published in Andrew Wawn (ed.): Northern Antiquity. The Post-Medieval Reception of Edda and Saga, Hisarlik Press, 1994, p. 41-67.

AbstractSince the late 1980 s, poets from the US and, to a lesser extent, the UK have increasingly featured superheroes in their work, mostly appropriating iconic figures along the lines of Batman or Superman and exploring some aspect of their personality (e. g., Batman’s relationship to Robin, Superman’s loneliness) in dramatic monologues. The prevailing if not sole account of this phenomenon argues that these characters provide a shared mythology to a generation of writers to whom biblical and classical references are no longer readily available. It also ties the superheroes’ provenance exclusively to the medium of comics. This latter point, in particular, is open to debate, insofar as since the late 1980 s, superheroes are, more than ever, part of media franchises that treat comic books as but one among many outlets. The present article hence views the superheroes in poetry not so much as an appropriation of comic book but of transmedia characters. Simon Armitage’s seminal poem “Kid” (1992), for instance – a diatribe by Robin directed at Batman’s dismissal of him – resonates as much with the 1960 s TV series or Tim Burton’s Batman films (1989, 1992) as with the dark knight’s reinvention at the hands of comic book writers such as Frank Miller or Alan Moore. At the same time, the article aims to locate the place of the seemingly insular genre of poetry within a “convergence culture” that disseminates superheroes in the media ecology. Evidently, the “superhero poems” are not licensed creations that partake in officially sanctioned transmedia networks. Neither, however, are they a product of fandom and participatory culture. Instead, I would suggest that poetry here tentatively engages with the media culture that has factored into its marginalization during the past decades.

The Communicating Vessels of a Hybrid Poetics: Myth as Intermedial and Intercultural Osmosis in the Oeuvre of Nikos Engonopoulos In 1938, the year of the International Exhibition of Surrealism at the Gallery Beaux-Arts in Paris, the poet and painter Nikos Engonopoulos created Birth of Orpheus and Genesis of Myth. The depiction of the birth of young Orpheus as emblematic of the construction of myth recalls the mythopoetic process as articulated in the anthology of the poet, psychoanalyst and photographer Andreas Embeirikos, Writings or Personal Mythology (1936-1946): “Each myth’s becoming is a child who grows up.” This reception of myth should be situated in the context of the French surrealists’ endeavour to formulate a new collective mythology that would respond to the political and social environment of the interwar years. This collective mythology resorted to cultural topoi that were deemed countercultural, marginalised or anti-Enlightenment, ranging from primitive, prehistoric and Gothic art to magic, alchemy and mythological traditions of archaic or non-European cultures. In this framework, surrealist myth was reconfigured as a new poetic language in constant metamorphosis that could articulate through diverse media and cultural traditions the surrealist vision for the radical transformation of the world. In Greece the appropriations of classical myth were central to the modernist canon. However, the Greek surrealists transformed myth in subversive ways initiating a dialogue with the present in the light of anthropology, ethnography, history of religions and psychoanalysis. Recent research has shown that Embeirikos and Engonopoulos conversed with French Surrealism and their colleagues’ engagement with alternative epistemologies and comparative religion and mythology, participating to a fecund renegotiation of the past. This paper aims at contributing to the revision of the history of Surrealism in Greece by exploring the function of myth, both as intermedial language and discursive practice, in Engonopoulos’s work. Most specifically, it purports to investigate the poetic anthologies Do not Speak to the Driver (1938) and The Clavichords of Silence (1939) alongside visual works he created at the end of the 1930s, such as the drawing SO4H2 (1937), and the engraving Vierge inviolable, métaphysique et surréaliste-sonore (1930s). The subtitles given initially to the aforementioned anthologies allude to the comparison of the arts and the equation of poetry and painting in an alchemical fusion pursued by the historical avant-gardes and Surrealism. Engonopoulos’s work and his experimentations with image-making should be revisited within this context and seen as a paradigm of the formulation of a new myth that sought to interweave the visual arts, poetry and alternative epistemologies into a revolutionary, hybrid form of expression that could effect the individual and society.

In this paper, dialectic lexemes, which is the part of the vocabulary of an outstanding poet Imadaddin Nisami’s, are analyzed. He played the great role in the development of the Azerbaijani language of the XIV–XV centuries. Based on the folk texts and the works of his famous predecessors Khagan, Nizami, leading representatives of the Middle East poetry, Nasimi himself, knowing and skillfully using all the meanings and forms of classical poetry, gave a new freshness to the literature of his epoch, created poetic texts which have being highly appreciated till our days. The outstanding poet realized his responsibility as a craftsman in the history of the standard Azerbaijani language, also used dialectic words for the creation of certain stylistic effects and enriching the vocabulary of the language. Being the master of his talent, he was able to express very subtle and deep philosophical meaning. The comprehensive investigation of his literary heritage with rich and varied vocabulary and its integration into Turkic languages is one of the urgent task which the modern Turkology faces. In this sense his every line and verse is the challenge for any reader who is far from the East poetry, Islamic religion eastern theology and mythology. Undoubtedly, the scope of an article is beyond the scope of exploring this great and relevant topic. But this paper is the first attempt to investigate and comment the integration of the dialectic words into Nasimi’s literary heritage and also the integration of these lexems into turkic languages. It is analyzed also the peculiarities of reflexive pronounce (oz, kendi) and their usage in all Turkic languages.

The article is devoted to the mystical manifesto The Last Day (1963) of the Lebanese novelist, playwright and journalist Mikhail Naimy (1889–1988). The author suggests that Naimy, under the spell of classical Russian literature, attempted an audacious experiment: by successfully combining the totality of concepts of Dostoevsky’s The Dream of a Ridiculous Man [ Son smeshnogo cheloveka] with the traditional mythologemes of Sufi poetry, this graduate of the Poltava theological seminary overcomes mystical imagery, and in doing so postulates human impotence in the face of the Nietzschean ‘eternal recurrence’ and the ineffable nature of true the ophanies. The article demonstrates the innovative character of The Last Day, a novel that stands apart from the works of other Pen League members: while Gibran’s The Prophet seeks to infantilise a religious myth, Naimy’s objective is to bring mythology back into the 20th-c. Middle Eastern literary discourse and reimagine it using the categories of contemporary existential philosophy. The study opens with a short biography, covering Naimy’s Russian and American periods.

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, a number of Shakespeare scholars, including Israel Gollancz (1894), H.R.D. Anders (1904), J. Churton Collins (1904), and Gilbert Murray (1914) wrote convincingly of Shakespeare’s debt to classical Greek drama. However, in the century since, most scholars and editors have repeatedly held that Shakespeare was not familiar with Greek drama. In Classical Mythology in Shakespeare (1903), Robert Kilburn Root expressed the opinion on Shakespeare’s ‘lesse Greek’ that presaged this enduring dismissal: “It is at any rate certain that he nowhere alludes to any characters or episodes of Greek drama, that they extended no influence whatsoever on his conception of mythology.” (p. 6) This century-long consensus against Attic dramatic influence was reinforced by A.D. Nutall, who wrote, “that Shakespeare was cut off from Greek poetry and drama is probably a bleak truth that we should accept.” (Nutall, 2004, p.210) Scholars have preferred to maintain that Plutarch or Ovid were Shakespeare’s surrogate literary mediators for the playwright’s adaptations from Greek myth and theatre. Other scholars, however, have questioned these assumptions, including Laurie Maguire, who observed that “invoking Shakespeare’s imagined conversations in the Mermaid tavern is not a methodology likely to convince skeptics that Shakespeare knew Greek drama.” (p. 98) This near-universal rejection of Greek drama as Shakespeare sources have profound philological implications. Indeed, this essay argues that the proscription against recognizing the Attic canon as an influence in Shakespeare has been driven by the belief that Will Shakspere of Stratford had, at most, an education that was Latin-based. The examples show that the real author had to have been exposed to both the Greek language and the Greek dramatists. Evidence for alternative candidates, including Edward de Vere, shows that many were schooled in Greek and that some even collected and supported translations of Greek works. It is my contention that Shakespeare’s dramatic imagination was actually fired by the Greeks, and Shakespeare research has clearly suffered from a century of denial.

Modern poets, such as William Butler Yeats, Ezra Pound, William Carlos Williams, Edna St. Vincent Millay, and Rainer Maria Rilke, have used classical myths in a modern context to explain modern issues and to feed up from the rich material of Greek and Roman mythology. Denise Levertov takes the right of all authors to knock into the heart of Western and classical traditions and to reinvent them for her time. Though Levertov’s early poetry expresses her appreciation of nature and of the epiphanic moments of daily life, during the late 1960s her work became progressively concerned with political and social issues. She conveys her offense in poems of distress over Vietnam and of commonality with the alternative culture that opposed the war. Levertov insists upon the connectedness of public and private spheres. The Vietnam War was a major preoccupation of the youth movement of the 1960s, whose protests against it caused the occasional disruption of Levertov’s “A Tree Telling of Orpheus.” This paper aims to retell the Greek myth of Orpheus and his famous song of perception and revitalization, which includes all the aspects of life and rebirth, with a modern revision. Levertov compares the awaking trees captivated by Orpheus’s song along with the awakening of the revolutionary consciousness that lays at the heart of` the countercultural movement of the 1960s.

Starting from a qualitative methodology with a documental base, the concept of love is revisited in a cut that intends to highlight its various representations in Renaissance culture: inherited from classical culture, the reception of the concept of love goes from its mythology to its expression in Platonic philosophy. The theme of love finds a fertile narrative in the Renaissance, present in the poetry of Dante, Petrarch, and Colonna, which will greatly influence the visual arts. This trend finds significant echoes in Portugal; authors such as Leão Hebreu and Camões demonstrate this. It is a theme that will manifest itself at the level of the broader culture of the time, such as, for example, the Renaissance court culture, evident in Castiglione's aspirations for a perfecto cortesano, reaching increasingly erudite and mystical expressions with the philosophical visions of Ficino and Leão Hebreu, where the Cosmogony is seen as a gesture of divine love. Thus, through a key concept of the Renaissance and guided by a comparative perspective, this paper aims to bring to the fore some of the Italian sources and influences on classicist artistic culture in Portugal.

«Перепела в саркофаге» (1979) — одна из ранних театральных работ Сальваторе Шаррино, написанная по заказу Венецианского музыкального биеннале. Предметом статьи является поэтика оперы, а также механизмы деформирования образа реальности, лежащие в основе мифов массовой культуры ХХ века и ставшие одной из композиторских стратегий, позволяющих выявить основную тему «Перепелов» — непрочность и переменчивость восприятия. Мифология, изъеденная потреблением, или, как ее называет Шаррино, «денатурированная мифология» нашла отражение в сложной интертекстуальной структуре либретто, которое включает в себя фрагменты литературных произведений и пьес, мемуаров и документальной хроники, философско-эстетических и научных эссе, поэзии и текстов эстрадных шлягеров 1920–40-х годов. Контаминация несовместимых компонентов («художественное „амбигю“») становится руководящим драматургическим принципом, проникающим на вербальный, визуальный и музыкально-стилевой уровни сценического синтеза оперы. В фокусе внимания автора также оказываются: воплощение трех сквозных образов-архетипов (Сирены, Идеальные Голоса и Платье), определяющих шарриновскую концепцию денатурированной мифологии; рассмотрение музыкально-драматургических и композиционных закономерностей «Перепелов», в основе которых лежат повторяющиеся «мифические схемы»; характеристика принципов структурирования и взаимодействия семантических слоев оперы, пения и разговорного диалога; изучение механизмов включения и стратегий искажения заимствованного материала из классической музыки, американских джазовых стандартов и европейских шлягеров первой половины ХХ века. Cailles en sarcophage (1979) is one of Salvatore Sciarrino’s early theatrical works, commissioned by the Venice Music Biennale. The subject of the article is the poetics of the opera, as well as the mechanisms of deformation of the image of reality, which underlie the myths of mass culture of the 20th century and have become one of the composer’s strategies that make it possible to identify the main theme of Cailles — fragility and variability of perception. Mythology distorted by consumption, or, as Sciarrino calls it, “denatured mythology” reveals itself in the complex intertextual structure of the libretto, which includes fragments of literary works and plays, memoirs and documentary chronicles, philosophical, aesthetic and scientific essays, poetry and texts of pop hits of the 1920–1940s. Contamination of incompatible components (the “artistic ambigu”) becomes a guiding dramaturgical principle that penetrates the verbal, visual and musical-stylistic levels of the stage synthesis of the opera. The author’s attention is also focused on: the embodiment of three end-to-end archetype images (Sirens, Ideal Voices and Dress), defining Sciarrino’s concept of denatured mythology; consideration of the musical, dramatic and compositional features of Cailles, which are based on repetitive “mythical schemes”; characteristics of the principles of structuring and interaction of semantic layers of opera, singing and conversational dialogue; study of the inclusion mechanisms and strategies for distorting citations from classical music, American jazz standards and European hits of the first half of the 20th century.

Introduction: the article is devoted to the study of the development of books of poems as a major genre form in modern Russian-language poetry of Mordovia and fits into the complex of Russian literary studies concerning the peculiarities of the development of the Finno-Ugric literary process. In the course of the research, the typological features of a thematic and «final» book of poems are revealed; the poetological features of this genre in the works of the poets of Mordovia belonging to the «traditional» and «avant-garde» paradigm are analyzed. Objective: to analyze the main trends of the development of a book of poems in the literary process of Mordovia. Research materials: the poetry books by A. M. Sharonov «The Monologues» and S. Yu. Senichev «Grapes in Chocolate, or Compounding». Results and novelty of the research: the analysis of the modern Russian-language poetry of Mordovia has shown that today there are two ideological and artistic paradigms: «traditional» paradigm based on the experience of classical Russian poetry and «avant-garde» paradigm developing with the support of postmodern experiments. The diversity of poetic practices makes it possible to determine the ways of development of a book of poems in the poetic process of the republic. In the creative works of the poets of Mordovia two genre-specific forms, such as thematic and «final», are developing. Moreover, the traditional poets most often comprehend the problems concerning the preservation of the national identity of the Mordovian people. They poetically sum up the plots and images of national mythology and folklore. The genre form of a «final» book of poems allows the most representative to convey the scale of significant historical and sociocultural events of the era, as well as to present the author’s biography against the background of these events. The avant-garde poets, on the contrary, move away from national attributes. The associative and metaphorical principle of constructing a book of poems becomes more important for them, where along with the lyrical understanding of the world there is a philological game, intertextuality, and allusiveness. Through the techniques of literary play authors often express nostalgia for lost values. The analysis of the poetic of the books of poems by A. M. Sharonov and S. Yu. Senichev will allow not only to determine the features of their creative manner, but also to trace the ways and character of the development of modern Russianlanguage poetry in Mordovia as a whole.

Water in Arabic literature has literal and symbolic meanings. Water is one of the four elements in Greek mythology; life would be impossible without water and it is a synonym for life; life originated in water. Springs, wells, rain, seas, snow, and swamps are all associated with water. Each form of water may take on a different manifestation of the original from which it comes about. Arabic literature employs the element of water in poetry, the short story, and the novel. We find it in titles of poems: Unshudat al-matar (Hymn of the Rain) and Waj’ al-ma’ (The Pain of Water); and novels: Dhakirat al-ma’ (The Memory of Water); Taht al-matar (Under the Rain); Matar huzayran (June Rain); Al-Bahr khalf al-sata’ir (The Seas Behind the Curtains); Rahil al-bahr (Departure of the Sea); and many others. This study aims to answer the following questions: How does the element of water manifest in Arabic literature? What are the semantics and symbolism of the different forms of water in the literary imaginary? The study refers to six different significations for water in classical and modern Arabic literature: water as synonymous with life, purity and the revelation of truth, separation and death, fertility and sex, land and homeland, and talent and creativity.

Rabindranath Tagore’s Gitanjali is a garland of songs which adorns the Indian English poetry with its fragranced melodious strings sung by someone who experienced an ecstasy—a state of divine union of soul with the Supreme. Tagore’s philosophy of nature has wide range and variety. The imagery, pervasive but not startling, is taken from nature and from Indian classical mythology. Tagore was also bold enough to fight against the fineries that keep man away from mother earth. Tagore’s Gitanjali echoes in its cadence the essence of every religion, giving solace to the whole humanity in the heart of mother earth; the nature, resonating the ancient Indian mysticism. “To Tagore the world of nature is not an illusion but is rather a medium for accomplishing indivisibility with the infinite” (Nagar 77). Aridness is the result of drought and dried soul. The poet feels sorry for the causes of this aridness that he experiences both in spirit and body. Deforestation and urbanization has led the land to cry in anguish to save it from further destruction. It is there Tagore sang again on the fragmented land where the walls have separated man and nature and stopped God from dwelling amidst. Man separated man from his company and the nature is destroyed at the hands of technology. It is in this anguish Tagore says “Send thy angry storm, dark with death, if it is thy wish, and with lashes of lightning startle the sky from end to end.” (Gitanjali Poem No.40)The ecological world can be easily explored through literature in order to bridge the gap between science and literature. The poetical works of Rabindranath Tagore is imbued with ecological elements.

The article analyzes the situation of the formation of organized philosophical and scientific discourse in the pre-Socratic time, as well as in Alexandria and in the Arab Caliphate. It is shown that in all three cases it is, firstly, poetry that raised the verbal culture to such a level that the possibilities of using language expanded drastically and extreme generalizations became possible. Secondly, poetry performed a reflection upon mythology and formulated the problems that became the starting point of philosophical and scientific research. Poetry also inspired philosophers and scholars to use poetic forms to Express their ideas and improve their language.

When the first edition of theMetamorphosesappeared in the bookshops of Rome, Ovid had already made a name for himself in the literary circles of the city. His literary début, theAmoves, immediately established his reputation as a poetic Lothario, as it lured his tickled readers into a typically Ovidian world of free-wheeling elegiac love, light-hearted hedonism, and (more or less) adept adultery. Connoisseurs of elegiac poetry could then enjoy hisHeroides, vicariously sharing stirring emotional turmoil with various heroines of history and mythology, who were here given a literary forum for voicing bitter feelings of loss and deprivation and expressing their strong hostility towards the epic way of life. Of more practical application for the Roman lady of the world were his verses on toiletry, theMedicamina Faciei, and once Ovid had discovered his talent for didactic expositionà la mode Ovidienne, he blithely continued in that vein. In perusing the urbane and sophisticated lessons on love which the self-proclaimederotodidaskalospresented in hisArs Amatoria, his (male and female) audience could hone their own amatory skills, while at the same time experiencing true Barthianjouissancein the act of reading a work, which is, as a recent critic put it, ‘a poem about poetry, and sex, and poetry as sex’. And after these extensive sessions in poetic philandering, his readers, having become hopeless and desperate eros-addicts, surely welcomed the thoughtful antidote Ovid offered in the form of the therapeuticRemedia Amoris, a poem written with the expressed purpose of freeing the wretched lover from the baneful shackles of Cupid.

Grundtvig and Golden Age CopenhagenBy Flemming Lundgreen-NielsenThe article has originally been given as a public lecture at the University of Copenhagen during the Golden Days in Copenhagen festival in September 1994. By way of introduction the question is posed to which extent Grundtvig belongs to the Golden Age period in Danish cultural and artistic life. Though he lived in the capital for 65 years, he never orientated himself towards the places that interested most other educated Copenhageners. The University rejected his applications for a professorate, and he in return vehemently attacked the dead learning of the institution. He hardly ever went to the Cathedral or other of the city churches, since he was at odds with most of the clergy. The art of acting he considered to be organized hypocrisy and accordingly avoided the Royal Theatre. He had good relations to the Kings (and Queens!), but did not involve himself in the affairs of the Royal Court. Unlike most contemporary writers and artists, he never took the Grand Tour of the Continent, in fact apart from four journeys to England (1829-31 and 1843) and one to Norway (1851), he stayed at home in his study, travelling in time through his comprehensive readings rather than in actual space. As he grew older, he got quite popular among his younger followers and ended up becoming one of the tourist attractions of the city, as witnessed 1872 by the young English poet Edmund Gosse briefly before Grundtvig’s demise.Grundtvig cared little for the kind of elite culture that dominated Copenhagen for most of his life. Though singing of national ballads was inaugurated during his 1838 lectures and since then has been a part of Danish tradition for public meetings, he had no ear for music at all and never communicated with the fine composers who set music to his texts. Sculpture and painting he rejected as base materialistic arts, only acknowledging the Danish sculptor of European fame, Bertel Thorvaldsen, because of his unassuming and genial personality, not on account of his reliefs and statues. Even his fellow poets he in general criticized harshly, excepting a few works by B.S. Ingemann. On the whole he did not think that, the first third of the 19th century constituted any Golden Age: it was a period filled with drowsiness and shallow entertainment, devoid of anything but sensualistic or even materialistic pleasures.Inspired by writers from Classical Greece and Rome, older humanists such as professor K.L. Rahbek nourished a hopeless longing for a lost Golden Age. Modem romanticists, however, such as the philosopher Henrich Steffens, the poet Adam Oehlenschl.ger and the above mentioned Thorvaldsen strove to regain or recreate a true Golden Age in the near future. Spurred on by Norse mythology as well as by his Christian belief, Grundtvig from around 1824 increasingly came to share this attitude. He distinguished between Guld-Alder (Golden Age) as a thing of the past, and Gylden-Aar (literally: Golden Year) as a state of earthly and heavenly happiness soon to be achieved or even existing in the present moment-the word refers to the Biblical Year of Jubilee as rendered in a medieval Danish translation of the Old Testament. Unfortunately no all-encompassing examination of Grundtvig’s use of these terms has been executed, but from his secular poetry a series of instances are given in the following, starting with a somewhat overlooked poem called »Gylden-Aaret« from January 1834, celebrating three moments in the life of King Frederik VI: his recovery from a serious illness in Schleswig and his triumphant return to Copenhagen in August 1833, hisbirthday in January 1834 and his 50 years’ jubilee as a ruler in the following April. The modem Gylden-Aar is defined as happiness for all of the people through enlightenment about life, procured by the king and all the fine poets surrounding him. Thus Grundtvig gives a unique priority to the art of poetry. No matter what occurred to Denmark in the rest of Grundtvig’s life-time, he managed to interpret the events as pains of child-birth heralding the approaching Gylden-Aar rather than as death throes. Instead of confining himself to the refined small-scale topics of most contemporary poets, he time and again energetically prophecied about the expected Gylden-Aar as a solid historical fact. In a period where elitist art according to the doctrines of romantic poetics was literally idolized, he maintained that the highest form of art consists in organizing society and the lives of common people so that all innate talents and latent possibilities are being developed in the due course of time. He believes this to be happening under the benevolent reign of the present Danish kings, among others things because the Danes have been reared to pay attention to each other and are generally uninterested in pursuing power and glory, honour and greatness. Grundtvig deduces this attitude partly from the role played by the peasants in the formation of the modem Danish national character, partly from the influence of the exeptionally loving, loveable and lovely Danish womanhood. Even the geographical position of Copenhagen between the Sound (the scene of the heroic battle against Lord Nelson in 1801) and the impressive beeches of Charlottenlund Forest (a beautiful and peaceful idyll of nature) becomes symbolic of Denmark’s state of mind, demonstrating a harmony between nature and history, reality and dream, simplicity and majesty, people and royalty. Though Grundtvig remained much of an outsider in Golden Age Copenhagen, his interest in the common citizen, in family and home and everyday life, relates him to the then current concept of ’cozy’ (hyggelig) Biedermeier art after all. Because of his view of universal history, he was able to give depth and significance even to the smallest and most trivial elements in his environment. Grundtvig simply could not help converting the exclusive Golden Age of the poets and artists into a fruitful Gylden-Aar for the whole nation.

One of the most familiar traits of the part-horse, part-man creatures known as silens is their keen interest in women. In Athenian vase-painting, the female companions of the silens are characterized by a variety of attributes and items of dress, and exhibit mixed feelings toward the attentions of silens. The complexities of the imagery have resulted in disagreement in modern scholarship on several points, including the identity of these females, the significance of their attributes, and the explanation of a change in their receptivity to the advances of the silens. One of the reasons for the lack of consensus in the scholarship is the fact that the imagery raises not one question but many: questions concerning iconographical method, mythology, ritual, and poetry. In what follows I have attempted to separate some of these entangled issues. I hope to show that the companions of the silens are nymphs and not maenads, and that a major change in the iconography of silens and nymphs, occurring in late sixth-century red-figure Attic vase-painting, reflects in some way developments in the Athenian dramatic genre of satyr-play.

Perhaps the strangest feature of Theocritus’ Idyll 11 is the fact that the Hellenistic poet selects a mythological creature notorious for its barbarism and inhumanity, in order to validate his thesis that poetry is the only medicine for love, the most distinctively ennobling and human of all emotions. The aim of this article is to demonstrate that Theocritus has chosen Polyphemus as an exemplum for his premise because he had been consistently associated in mythology with being blinded. His intention is to show through an elaborate network of interconnected verbal repetitions, as well as literary allusions, which essentially create a subtext to his work, that love, at least as it is experienced by the main character of the Idyll, is a form of self-inflicted blindness, but that, nevertheless, it entails a kind of personal glory. Although Galateia does not respond to Polyphemus’ erotic call, his repeated singing incorporates her —irrespective of her will — into his life; in her absence she is always present, in his erotic failure the Cyclops artistically succeeds. This contiguity of opposites constitutes the core of Theocritus’ proposed medicine: he wants to remain perpetually in love and through his art to make this feeling a part of his everyday life. This is the only way he can control it. In true Hellenistic fashion his principal aim is not erotic gratification, but poetic success. And love exacerbated, but ultimately controlled through song, love condemned to remain unfulfilled, is his chief helper in this task. It is the “blindness” that leads to his glory.

Among the most characteristic motifs in Greek mythology is the sexual union of a god with a mortal woman and the resultant birth of a hero. The existence of hexameter poetry listing the women thus favoured – the famous women in the underworld in the eleventh book of the Odyssey, and above all theEoiai– is evidence of an interest in the women involved, not only in their heroic sons, and suggests that already at an early date the theme was the object not merely of passive reception but of an active consciousness. TheEoiai, indeed, saw such unions as an integral part of an earlier and better age, when mortals and immortals were closer:ξυναὶ γὰρ τότε δαῖτες ἔσαν, ξυνοὶ δὲ θόωκοιἀθανάτων τε θεῶν καταθνητοῖς τ' ἀνθρώπων(fr. 1 Μ–W)But it was not to be supposed that such a potentially rich theme would receive a unitary treatment. Already in their first appearances – at least, the first appearances for us – many individual stories are clearly distinguished by their different circumstances. A common variable is the existence, the kind and the degree of difficulty experienced by the woman as a result of the encounter. Polymele, for instance, mother of Eudorus by Hermes atIliad16.179–92, has seemingly no difficulty in leaving her child to be brought up by her father while she goes on to marry a mortal husband. But suffering of some sort is perhaps more usual, and famous sufferers include Cassandra, punished for spurning Apollo's advances; Danae, first imprisoned by her father in a brazen tower to prevent her pregnancy, and then locked in a chest with her baby and set afloat on the waves; and Semele, destroyed when her lover Zeus appeared to her in his true form. Such different experiences could suggest further multiple versions of the same general theme, diverging especially in the consequences of the union (or attempted union) for the mortal partner. Even the same characters could potentially undergo quite different variants of the story; the chief constant is the unfailing popularity of the mythical motif.

Background: Charles Foix (1882-1927) may be mostly remembered today due to his contributions to vascular neurology and the syndromes that bear his name, such as the Foix-Alajouanine syndrome. However, he also developed a literary career and composed poetry and a vast collection of plays, often dealing with biblical themes or figures from Greek mythology. Summary: His poetry was often inspired by his own experiences during the First World War, in which he was assigned to serve as medical officer in Greece, becoming enamored with his surroundings and the classical lore. Key messages: The authors explore Foix's poetry and drama and their relationship to his overall work as a neurologist, including his wartime experiences.

Resumo: Este artigo trata do uso que Lucrécio e Camões fizeram dos deuses da mitologia clássica, por razões pertinentes às convenções da poesia épica e a despeito de sua descrença na existência dos mesmos, sugerindo que ambos constróem os deuses para depois desconstruí-los de forma cabal e definitiva.Palavras-Chave: Epopeia; Lucrécio; Camões.Abstract: This paper suggests that Lucretius and Camoens used the gods of Classical mythology due to the conventions of epic poetry and despite the fact that they did not believe in their existence, because both authors needed to adequately construe the gods in order to ultimately deconstruct them.Keywords: Epic poetry; Lucretius; Camoens.

Edgar Allan Poe’s poetry has repeatedly drawn the attention of many literary critics since his poems have meticulously been delved into from different perspectives. Undeniably, a multitude of references that allude to ancient Greek mythology and classical literature are present within his verses. These have been noticed and delineated by noteworthy Poe scholars such as Scott Peeples, Kenneth Silverman, Daniel Hoffman and Kevin Hayes in several of their researches in the past. However, despite the wide range of studies that have been published, one cannot encounter any mention regarding the existence of Hellenic motifs or even a reference to an apparent Hellenism in Poe’s poetry. In an effort to outline what has already been affirmed with respect to this topic and to unearth additional links between Poe’s works and Greece, the present essay aims to determine the presence of Hellenic motifs in Poe’s “To Helen” and “Lenore”.

In the thick of the global plague, Richard, Justin and Valery agreed to hold a conversation on the topic of poetics, self-understanding, and health. An analysis and discussion of this trinity requires love of poetry and philosophy. Both supreme human practices take common root in mythology and religion, and also share a notorious categorical divide, that of reason against affect. Is this Platonic divide indeed categorical, given both practices rely on language and creativity to compose their meaning? Interestingly, the practice of poetics does not have the reputation for boosting one’s health, in the mainstream understanding of that concept. If anything, poetic practice gained notoriety for corrupting one’s mind and, possibly, life. Like philosophy? We touched on these and other classical aporia, on the political struggles in American and Australian poetry. Here is a written record of this encounter, countries and miles apart, three persons simply getting to know one another.

In this essay I show that the picture of universal extinction in the poem Satire I of the Romantic poet Mihai Eminescu (1850-1889) is deeply and rigorously inspired by a theory of thermodynamics from the 1870s, more precisely by the theory of universal “death” launched in the second part of 19th century by physicists William Thomson and Rudolf Clausius. My interpretation addresses competing interpretations, from literary-centric scenarios claiming that Eminescu’s representation of the extinction is inspired by or approaches models of the mythological-Christian tradition or universal literature, to scenarios that also launch hypotheses in the field of science, but other than thermodynamics. I am also interested in producing here, in the alternative, a critique of the thesis – widespread not only in popular culture but also in the most serious academic circles – according to which many of the discoveries of modern and even contemporary science would have been “announced,” “contained,” or “coded” in literary fiction, mythology, religious narratives etc., from ancient times (Indian, Judeo-Christian mythology etc.) to modern authors. Keywords: classical mechanics, cosmology, termodinamics, entropy, poetry, Immanuel Kant, William Thomson (Lord Kelvin), Rudolf Clausius, Spiru Haret, Mihai Eminescu, Scrisoarea I, G. Călinescu, Ion Heliade Rădulescu.

Abstract By the time John Keats began to write his great mythological works, the use of the classical world in poetry had become somewhat scorned in English literary circles, after the allegorical excesses of the eighteenth century. In Keats’ imagination, however, the Greco-Roman pantheon served not as a source of aesthetic embellishment but as part of a new, organic mythology of his own creation. For Keats, the self-exploration of a personal consciousness most closely approximates divinity, and such divinity depends upon interaction with the immediate, earthly space surrounding an individual. In this essay I explore Keats’ use of myth to access this personal identity, which he does frequently through three poetic techniques. The first I call “mythological sense,” meaning the apprehension of mythological allusions acting as a sixth sense for the narrator as he perceives his surroundings. The second is the physical boundedness that constricts mythological poems. The third is his use of embodied figures, initially anonymous mythological forms which appear first as objects in the narrator’s sensual experience, their mythological identifications secondary and often revealed only after their physical significance has been explored.

Louis Markos holds a BA in English and History from Colgate University and an MA and PhD in English from the University of Michigan. He is a Professor of English and Scholar in Residence at Houston Baptist University, where he holds the Robert H. Ray Chair in Humanities and teaches courses on British Romantic and Victorian Poetry and Prose, the Greek and Roman Classics, C. S. Lewis, and J. R. R. Tolkien. He is the author of twenty books, including The Myth Made Fact: Reading Greek and Roman Mythology through Christian Eyes, Ancient Voices: An Insider’s Look at Classical Greece, On the Shoulders of Hobbits: The Road to Virtue with Tolkien and Lewis, Apologetics for the Twenty First Century, From Achilles to Christ: Why Christians Should Read the Pagan Classics, Lewis Agonistes: How C. S. Lewis can Train us to Wrestle with the Modern and Postmodern World, Atheism on Trial, and The Dreaming Stone and In the Shadow of Troy, children’s novels in which his kids become part of Greek Mythology and the Iliad and Odyssey. He has produced two lecture series on C. S. Lewis and literary theory with The Teaching Company/Great Courses, published 300 book chapters, essays, and reviews, given well over 300 public lectures in some two dozen states as well as Rome, Oxford, and British Columbia, and had his adaptations of The Iphigenia in Tauris of Euripides, The Helen of Euripides, and The Electra of Sophocles performed off-Broadway. He is committed to the concept of the Professor as Public Educator and believes that knowledge must not be walled up in the Academy but must be disseminated to all who have ears to hear. Visit his amazon author page at amazon.com/author/louismarkos In this interview he responds to questions about his latest book!

As Lewis Carroll’s Alice comes to the end of her journey through the looking glass world, she has also come to the end of her patience with its strange power games and arbitrations. At every stage of the adventure, she has encountered someone who wants to dictate rules and protocols, and a lesson on table manners from the Red Queen finally triggers rebellion. “I can’t stand this any more,” Alice cries, as she seizes the tablecloth and hurls the entire setting into chaos (279). Then, catching hold of the Red Queen, she gives her a good shaking, until the rigid contours of the imperious figure become fuzzy and soft. At this point, the hold of the dream dissolves and Alice, awakening on the other side of the mirror, realises she is shaking the kitten. Queens have long been associated with ideas of transformation. As Alice is duly advised when she first looks out across the chequered landscape of the looking glass world, the rules of chess decree that a pawn may become a queen if she makes it to the other side. The transformation of pawn to queen is in accord with the fairy tale convention of the unspoiled country girl who wins the heart of a prince and is crowned as his bride. This works in a dual register: on one level, it is a story of social elevation, from the lowest to the highest rank; on another, it is a magical transition, as some agent of fortune intervenes to alter the determinations of the social world. But fairy tales also present us with the antithesis and adversary of the fortune-blessed princess, in the figure of the tyrant queen who works magic to shape destiny to her own ends. The Queen and the mirror converge in the cultural imaginary, working transformations that disrupt the order of nature, invert socio-political hierarchies, and flout the laws of destiny. In “Snow White,” the powers of the wicked queen are mediated by the looking glass, which reflects and affirms her own image while also serving as a panopticon, keep the entire realm under surveillance, to pick up any signs of threat to her pre-eminence. All this turbulence in the order of things lets loose a chaotic phantasmagoria that is prime material for film and animation. Two major film versions of “Snow White” have been released in the past few years—Mirror Mirror (2012) and Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)—while Tim Burton’s animated 3D rendition of Alice in Wonderland was released in 2010. Alice through the Looking Glass (2016) and The Huntsman: Winter’s War, the 2016 prequel to Snow White and the Huntsman, continue the experiment with state-of-the-art-techniques in 3D animation and computer-generated imaging to push the visual boundaries of fantasy. Perhaps this escalating extravagance in the creation of fantasy worlds is another manifestation of the ancient lore and law of sorcery: that the magic of transformation always runs out of control, because it disrupts the all-encompassing design of an ordered world. This principle is expressed with poetic succinctness in Ursula Le Guin’s classic story A Wizard of Earthsea, when the Master Changer issues a warning to his most gifted student: But you must not change one thing, one pebble, one grain of sand, until you know what good and evil will follow on that act. The world is in balance, in Equilibrium. A wizard's power of Changing and Summoning can shake the balance of the world. It is dangerous, that power. (48)In Le Guin’s story, transformation is only dangerous if it involves material change; illusions of all kinds are ultimately harmless because they are impermanent.Illusions mediated by the mirror, however, blur the distinction Le Guin is making, for the mirror image supposedly reflects a real world. And it holds the seductive power of a projected narcissism. Seeing what we wish for is an experience that can hold us captive in a way that changes human nature, and so leads to dangerous acts with material consequences. The queen in the mirror becomes the wicked queen because she converts the world into her image, and in traditions of animation going back to Disney’s original Snow White (1937) the mirror is itself an animate being, with a spirit whose own determinations become paramount. Though there are exceptions in the annals of fairy story, powers of transformation are typically dark powers, turbulent and radically elicit. When they are mediated through the agency of the mirror, they are also the powers of narcissism and autocracy. Through a Glass DarklyIn her classic cultural history of the mirror, Sabine Melchior-Bonnet tracks a duality in the traditions of symbolism associated with it. This duality is already evident in Biblical allusions to the mirror, with references to the Bible itself as “the unstained mirror” (Proverbs 7.27) counterpointed by images of the mortal condition as one of seeing “through a glass darkly” (1 Corinthians 13.12).The first of these metaphoric conventions celebrates the crystalline purity of a reflecting surface that reveals the spiritual identity beneath the outward form of the human image. The church fathers drew on Plotinus to evoke “a whole metaphysics of light and reflection in which the visible world is the image of the invisible,” and taught that “humans become mirrors when they cleanse their souls (Melchior-Bonnet 109–10). Against such invocations of the mirror as an intermediary for the radiating presence of the divine in the mortal world, there arises an antithetical narrative, in which it is portrayed as distorting, stained, and clouded, and therefore an instrument of delusion. Narcissus becomes the prototype of the human subject led astray by the image itself, divorced from material reality. What was the mirror if not a trickster? Jean Delumeau poses this question in a preface to Melchior-Bonnet’s book (xi).Through the centuries, as Melchior-Bonnet’s study shows, these two strands are interwoven in the cultural imaginary, sometimes fused, and sometimes torn asunder. With Venetian advances in the techniques and technologies of mirror production in the late Renaissance, the mirror gained special status as a possession of pre-eminent beauty and craftsmanship, a means by which the rich and powerful could reflect back to themselves both the self-image they wanted to see, and the world in the background as a shimmering personal aura. This was an attempt to harness the numinous influence of the divinely radiant mirror in order to enhance the superiority of leading aristocrats. By the mid seventeenth century, the mirror had become an essential accessory to the royal presence. Queen Anne of Austria staged a Queen’s Ball in 1633, in a hall surrounded by mirrors and tapestries. The large, finely polished mirror panels required for this kind of display were made exclusively by craftsmen at Murano, in a process that, with its huge furnaces, its alternating phases of melting and solidifying, its mysterious applications of mercury and silver, seemed to belong to the transformational arts of alchemy. In 1664, Louis XIV began to steal unique craftsmen from Murano and bring them to France, to set up the Royal Glass and Mirror Company whose culminating achievement was the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles.The looking glass world of the palace was an arena in which courtiers and visitors engaged in the high-stakes challenge of self-fashioning. Costume, attitude, and manners were the passport to advancement. To cut a figure at court was to create an identity with national and sometimes international currency. It was through the art of self-fashioning that the many princesses of Europe, and many more young women of title and hereditary distinction, competed for the very few positions as consort to the heir of a royal house. A man might be born to be king, but a woman had to become a queen.So the girl who would be queen looks in the mirror to assess her chances. If her face is her fortune, what might she be? A deep relationship with the mirror may serve to enhance her beauty and enable her to realise her wish, but like all magical agents, the mirror also betrays anyone with the hubris to believe they are in control of it. In the Grimm’s story of “Snow White,” the Queen practises the ancient art of scrying, looking into a reflective surface to conjure images of things distant in time and place. But although the mirror affords her the seer’s visionary capacity to tell what will be, it does not give her the power to control the patterns of destiny. Driven to attempt such control, she must find other magic in order to work the changes she desires, and so she experiments with spells of self-transformation. Here the doubleness of the mirror plays out across every plane of human perception: visual, ethical, metaphysical, psychological. A dynamic of inherent contradiction betrays the figure who tries to engage the mirror as a servant. Disney’s original 1937 cartoon shows the vain Queen brewing an alchemical potion that changes her into the very opposite of all she has sought to become: an ugly, ill-dressed, and impoverished old woman. This is the figure who can win and betray trust from the unspoiled princess to whom the arts of self-fashioning are unknown. In Tarsem Singh’s film Mirror Mirror, the Queen actually has two mirrors. One is a large crystal egg that reflects back a phantasmagoria of palace scenes; the other, installed in a primitive hut on an island across the lake, is a simple looking glass that shows her as she really is. Snow White and the Huntsman portrays the mirror as a golden apparition, cloaked and faceless, that materialises from within the frame to stand before her. This is not her reflection, but with every encounter, she takes on more of its dark energies, until, in another kind of reversal, she becomes its image and agent in the wider world. As Ursula Le Guin’s sage teaches the young magician, magic has its secret economies. You pay for what you get, and the changes wrought will come back at you in ways you would never have foreseen. The practice of scrying inevitably leads the would-be clairvoyant into deeper levels of obscurity, until the whole world turns against the seer in a sequence of manifestations entirely contrary to his or her framework of expectation. Ultimately, the lesson of the mirror is that living in obscurity is a defining aspect of the human condition. Jorge Luis Borges, the blind writer whose work exhibits a life-long obsession with mirrors, surveys a range of interpretations and speculations surrounding the phrase “through a glass darkly,” and quotes this statement from Leon Bloy: “There is no human being on earth capable of declaring with certitude who he is. No one knows what he has come into this world to do . . . or what his real name is, his enduring Name in the register of Light” (212).The mirror will never really tell you who you are. Indeed, its effects may be quite the contrary, as Alice discovers when, within a couple of moves on the looking glass chessboard, she finds herself entering the wood of no names. Throughout her adventures she is repeatedly interrogated about who or what she is, and can give no satisfactory answer. The looking glass has turned her into an estranged creature, as bizarre a species as any of those she encounters in its landscapes.Furies“The furies are at home in the mirror,” wrote R. S. Thomas in his poem “Reflections” (265). They are the human image gone haywire, the frightening other of what we hope to see in our reflection. As the mirror is joined by technologies of the moving image in twentieth-century evolutions of the myth, the furies have been given a new lease of life on the cinema screen. In Disney’s 1937 cartoon of Snow White, the mirror itself has the face of a fury, which emerges from a pool of blackness like a death’s head before bringing the Queen’s own face into focus. As its vision comes into conflict with hers, threatening the dissolution of the world over which she presides, the mirror’s face erupts into fire.Computer-generated imaging enables an expansive response to the challenges of visualisation associated with the original furies of classical mythology. The Erinyes are unstable forms, arising from liquid (blood) to become semi-materialised in human guise, always ready to disintegrate again. They are the original undead, hovering between mortal embodiment and cadaverous decay. Tearing across the landscape as a flock of birds, a swarm of insects, or a mass of storm clouds, they gather into themselves tremendous energies of speed and motion. The 2012 film Snow White and the Huntsman, directed by Rupert Sanders, gives us the strongest contemporary realisation of the archaic fury. Queen Ravenna, played by Charlize Theron, is a virtuoso of the macabre, costumed in a range of metallic exoskeletons and a cloak of raven’s feathers, with a raised collar that forms two great black wings either side of her head. Powers of dematerialisation and rematerialisation are central to her repertoire. She undergoes spectacular metamorphosis into a mass of shrieking birds; from the walls around her she conjures phantom soldiers that splinter into shards of black crystal when struck by enemy swords. As she dies at the foot of the steps leading up to the great golden disc of her mirror, her face rapidly takes on the great age she has disguised by vampiric practices.Helena Bonham Carter as the Red Queen in Burton’s Alice in Wonderland is a figure midway between Disney’s fairy tale spectre and the fully cinematic register of Theron’s Ravenna. Bonham Carter’s Queen, with her accentuated head and pantomime mask of a face, retains the boundaries of form. She also presides over a court whose visual structures express the rigidities of a tyrannical regime. Thus she is no shape-shifter, but energies of the fury are expressed in her voice, which rings out across the presence chamber of the palace and reverberates throughout the kingdom with its calls for blood. Alice through the Looking Glass, James Bobin’s 2016 sequel, puts her at the centre of a vast destructive force field. Alice passes through the mirror to encounter the Lord of Time, whose eternal rule must be broken in order to break the power of the murdering Queen; Alice then opens a door and tumbles in free-fall out into nothingness. The place where she lands is a world not of daydream but of nightmare, where everything will soon be on fire, as the two sides in the chess game advance towards each other for the last battle. This inflation of the Red Queen’s macabre aura and impact is quite contrary to what Lewis Carroll had in mind for his own sequel. In some notes about the stage adaptation of the Alice stories, he makes a painstaking distinction between the characters of the queen in his two stories.I pictured to myself the Queen of Hearts as a sort of embodiment of ungovernable passion—a blind and aimless Fury. The Red Queen I pictured as a Fury, but of another type; her passion must be cold and calm—she must be formal and strict, yet not unkindly; pedantic to the 10th degree, the concentrated essence of governesses. (86)Yet there is clearly a temptation to erase this distinction in dramatisations of Alice’s adventures. Perhaps the Red Queen as a ‘not unkindly’ governess is too restrained a persona for the psychodynamic mythos surrounding the queen in the mirror. The image itself demands more than Carroll wants to accord, and the original Tenniel illustrations give a distinctly sinister look to the stern chess queen. In their very first encounter, the Red Queen contradicts every observation Alice makes, confounds the child’s sensory orientation by inverting the rules of time and motion, and assigns her the role of pawn in the game. Kafka or Orwell would not have been at all relaxed about an authority figure who practises mind control, language management, and identity reassignment. But here Carroll offers a brilliant modernisation of the fairy story tradition. Under the governance of the autocratic queen, wonderland and the looking glass world are places in which the laws of science, logic, and language are overturned, to be replaced by the rules of the queen’s games: cards and croquet in the wonderland, and chess in the looking glass world. Alice, as a well-schooled Victorian child, knows something of these games. She has enough common sense to be aware of how the laws of gravity and time and motion are supposed to work, and if she boasts of being able to believe six impossible things before breakfast, this signifies that she has enough logic to understand the limits of possibility. She would also have been taught about species and varieties and encouraged to make her own collections of natural forms. But the anarchy of the queen’s world extends into the domain of biology: species of all kinds can talk, bodies dissolve or change size, and transmutations occur instantaneously. Thus the world-warping energies of the Erinyes are re-imagined in an absurdist’s challenge to the scientist’s universe and the logician’s mentality.Carroll’s instinct to tame the furies is in accord with the overall tone and milieu of his stories, which are works of quirky charm rather than tales of terror, but his two queens are threatening enough to enable him to build the narrative to a dramatic climax. For film-makers and animators, though, it is the queen who provides the dramatic energy and presence. There is an over-riding temptation to let loose the pandemonium of the original Erinyes, exploiting their visual terror and their classical association with metamorphosis. FashioningThere is some sociological background to the coupling of the queen and the mirror in fairy story. In reality, the mirror might assist an aspiring princess to become queen by enchanting the prince who was heir to the throne, but what was the role of the looking glass once she was crowned? Historically, the self-imaging of the queen has intense and nervous resonances, and these can be traced back to Elizabeth I, whose elaborate persona was fraught with newly interpreted symbolism. Her portraits were her mirrors, and they reflect a figure in whom the qualities of radiance associated with divinity were transferred to the human monarch. Elizabeth developed the art of dressing herself in wearable light. If she lacked for a halo, she made up for it with the extravagant radiata of her ruffs and the wreaths of pearls around her head. Pearls in mediaeval poetry carried the mystique of a luminous microcosm, but they were also mirrors in themselves, each one a miniature reflecting globe. The Ditchely portrait of 1592 shows her standing as a colossus between heaven and earth, with the changing planetary light cycle as background. This is a queen who rules the world through the mediation of her own created image. It is an inevitable step from here to a corresponding intervention in the arrangement of the world at large, which involves the armies and armadas that form the backdrop to her other great portraits. And on the home front, a regime of terror focused on regular public decapitations and other grisly executions completes the strategy to remaking the world according to her will. Renowned costume designer Eiko Ishioka created an aesthetic for Mirror Mirror that combines elements of court fashion from the Elizabethan era and the French ancien régime, with allusions to Versailles. Formality and mannerism are the keynotes for the palace scenes. Julia Roberts as the Queen wears a succession of vast dresses that are in defiance of human scale and proportion. Their width at the hem is twice her height, and 100,000 Svarovski crystals were used for their embellishment. For the masked ball scene, she makes her entry as a scarlet peacock with a high arching ruff of pure white feathers. She amuses herself by arranging her courtiers as pieces on a chess-board. So stiffly attired they can barely move more than a square at a time, and with hats surmounted by precariously balanced ships, they are a mock armada from which the Queen may sink individual vessels on a whim, by ordering a fatal move. Snow White and the Huntsman takes a very different approach to extreme fashioning. Designer Colleen Atwood suggests the shape-shifter in the Queen’s costumes, incorporating materials evoking a range of species: reptile scales, fluorescent beetle wings from Thailand, and miniature bird skulls. There is an obvious homage here to the great fashion designer Alexander McQueen, whose hallmark was a fascination with the organic costuming of creatures in feathers, fur, wool, scales, shells, and fronds. Birds were everywhere in McQueen’s work. His 2006 show Widows of Culloden featured a range of headdresses that made the models look as if they had just walked through a flock of birds in full flight. The creatures were perched on their heads with outstretched wings askance across the models’ faces, obscuring their field of vision. As avatars from the spirit realm, birds are emblems of otherness, and associated with metempsychosis, the transmigration of souls. These resonances give a potent mythological aura to Theron’s Queen of the dark arts.Mirror Mirror and Snow White and the Huntsman accordingly present strikingly contrasted versions of self-fashioning. In Mirror Mirror we have an approach driven by traditions of aristocratic narcissism and courtly persona, in which form is both rigid and extreme. The Queen herself, far from being a shape-shifter, is a prisoner of the massive and rigid architecture that is her costume. Snow White and the Huntsman gives us a more profoundly magical interpretation, where form is radically unstable, infused with strange energies that may at any moment manifest themselves through violent transformation.Atwood was also costume designer for Burton’s Alice in Wonderland, where an invented framing story foregrounds the issue of fashioning as social control. Alice in this version is a young woman, being led by her mother to a garden party where a staged marriage proposal is to take place. Alice, as the social underling in the match, is simply expected to accept the honour. Instead, she escapes the scene and disappears down a rabbit hole to return to the wonderland of her childhood. In a nice comedic touch, her episodes of shrinking and growing involve an embarrassing separation from her clothes, so divesting her also of the demure image of the Victorian maiden. Atwood provides her with a range of fantasy party dresses that express the free spirit of a world that is her refuge from adult conformity.Alice gets to escape the straitjacket of social formation in Carroll’s original stories by overthrowing the queen’s game, and with it her micro-management of image and behaviour. There are other respects, though, in which Alice’s adventures are a form of social and moral fashioning. Her opening reprimand to the kitten includes some telling details about her own propensities. She once frightened a deaf old nurse by shouting suddenly in her ear, “Do let’s pretend that I’m a hungry hyaena and you’re a bone!” (147). Playing kings and queens is one of little Alice’s favourite games, and there is more than a touch of the Red Queen in the way she bosses and manages the kitten. It is easy to laud her impertinence in the face of the tyrannical characters she meets in her fantasies, but does she risk becoming just like them?As a story of moral self-fashioning, Alice through the Looking Glass cuts both ways. It is at once a critique of the Victorian social straitjacket, and a child’s fable about self-improvement. To be accorded the status of queen and with it the freedom of the board is also to be invested with responsibilities. If the human girl is the queen of species, how will she measure up? The published version of the story excludes an episode known to editors as “The Wasp in a Wig,” an encounter that takes place as Alice reaches the last ditch before the square upon which she will be crowned. She is about to jump the stream when she hears a sigh from woods behind her. Someone here is very unhappy, and she reasons with herself about whether there is any point in stopping to help. Once she has made the leap, there will be no going back, but she is reluctant to delay the move, as she is “very anxious to be a Queen” (309). The sigh comes from an aged creature in the shape of a wasp, who is sitting in the cold wind, grumbling to himself. Her kind enquiries are greeted with a succession of waspish retorts, but she persists and does not leave until she has cheered him up. The few minutes devoted “to making the poor old creature comfortable,” she tells herself, have been well spent.Read in isolation, the episode is trite and interferes with the momentum of the story. Carroll abandoned it on the advice of his illustrator John Tenniel, who wrote to say it didn’t interest him in the least (297). There is interest of another kind in Carroll’s instinct to arrest Alice’s momentum at that critical stage, with what amounts to a small morality tale, but Tenniel’s instinct was surely right. The mirror as a social object is surrounded by traditions of self-fashioning that are governed by various modes of conformity: moral, aesthetic, political. Traditions of myth and fantasy allow wider imaginative scope for the role of the mirror, and by association, for inventive speculation about human transformation in a world prone to extraordinary upheavals. ReferencesBorges, Jorge Luis. “Mirrors of Enigma.” Labyrinths: Selected Stories and Other Writings. Eds. Donald A. Yates and James Irby. New York: New Directions, 2007. 209–12. Carroll, Lewis. Alice through the Looking Glass. In The Annotated Alice. Ed. Martin Gardner. London: Penguin, 2000.The King James Bible.Le Guin, Ursula. The Earthsea Quartet. London: Penguin, 2012.Melchior-Bonnet, Sabine. The Mirror: A History. Trans. Katherine H. Jewett. London: Routledge, 2014.Thomas, R.S. “Reflections.” No Truce with the Furies, Collected Later Poems 1988–2000. Hexham, Northumberland: Bloodaxe, 2011.