Articoli di riviste sul tema "Romance genre and trauma representation"

The aim of this study was to identify how Susan Wiggs' novel Fireside (2009) represented the romance genre. This study's research approach, which includes a description of the analysis, is qualitative. The novel Fireside by Susan Wiggs, the textual approach with close reading used in this study, serves as the analytical unit. The results of the data analysis are then used to examine the fundamental principles of romance in the book. Cawelti G. John's (1977) book Adventure, Mystery, and Romance: Formulas Stories as Art and Popular Culture served as the basis for the idea applied in this study. The results of this study indicate that the representation of the romance genre is manifested in the novel Fireside from the customary plot in romance by Cawelti’s theory; first meeting, boy wins the girl, obstacle or problem, and a mostly happy ending of the story.

British contemporary historical fiction is the genre that most closely, extensively and fruitfully explores the questions concerning the nature and scope of representation raised by postmodern historical and narrative theory. One interesting trait, common to the most speculative works of historical fiction published in the last fifteen years, is the adoption of Romance in all its modes — as a motif of the plot (the love story) and as a narrative mode (defining itself against the novel). Indeed Romance is the means by which the contemporary historical novel first dramatises and then investigates the representation of the past in the context of postmodernism. Lindsay Clarkes The Chymical Wedding (1989) and A. S. Byatt’s Possession (1990), both subtitled A Romance, epitomise the tendency described above. Their discussion in this paper will reveal not only the strategies by which these works deal with the intersection of postmodernism and representation, but also the Romantic elements inherent in postmodernism itself.

The author examines The Duke of Stockbridge: A Romance of Shays’ Rebellion (1879), a historical novel written by Edward Bellamy (1850–1898) in order to examine the ethics of Romance in the treatment of historical fiction. Edward Bellamy, most famous for his socialist novel, Looking Backwards (1888), himself looks backwards to examine the popular rebellion during the early post-revolutionary American democracy before the US Constitution was established. The striking feature of this novel is the way that it superimposes the romance genre onto political and historical events. Using the ethical criticism of J. Hillis Miller, Martha Nussbaum, Alasdair MacIntyre, and others, the paper examines the romance genre in relation to virtue ethics to analyze the ethical impulse in Bellamy’s historical novel. To what degree does romance – a literary genre that combines stock characters and stereotypical action – open itself up to analysis in terms of the “virtue ethics” of Nussbaum, MacIntyre, and others? To what degree does an analysis of Bellamy’s novel in these terms allow us to understand what I call the “rhetorical ethics” of a critic like Miller? An examination of the Genteel Literary Tradition prevalent at the time of Bellamy’s novel – as it manifests itself in language and historical representation – allows us to see more closely the relations among rhetoric, character and ethics in the historical novel.

Alice Oseman, the author of an LGBTQ+ young adult graphic novel that focuses on the lives and romance of two boys, has made a comment that caused some controversy on the internet. This comment by Oseman illustrates a somewhat common view held by Western society toward East Asian Boys Love (BL) genre. That is: BL novels and webcomics being highly sexual, fetish works with little literary value. This research note tries to analyze what could be the reason behind this commonly held view by the West, illustrated by Oseman’s comment through analyzing BL genre, Oseman’s work Heartstopper, the differences and tendencies within the works from East Asia, China specifically, and the West.

This article explores three of Agatha Christie’s early non-crime short stories written in the mid-1920s. I examine Christie’s use of symbolism and key motifs to explore the representation of relationships through the prism of romance. I argue that Christie’s short stories serve as a highly significant creative site for her investigation of the relationship between genre, subjectivity and symbolism.

This study investigates the connection between madness and critiques of the chivalric romance genre in two late Renaissance works, Ludovico Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso and Miguel de Cervantes’s Don Quijote de la Mancha. The satire of chivalric romance in these works of fiction caution against nascent modes of thinking in imperial societies for the implementation of chivalric ideas to inspire and promote imperial conquests in Latin America through juxtaposition with the Muslim and Moorish conquest in the Maghreb and through metaphorical island governance. In order to make such critiques, these novels implement the madness of their parodic knights to disguise their critiques. This practice establishes a precedent which later literature can employ to make sociocultural critique covertly, to the detriment of disability representations as literary devices or metaphors.

Contemporary Young Adult literature is a favored genre for exploring sexual assault, yet rarely interrogates the social structures underpinning rape culture. In its representation of heterosexual relationships, Young Adult paranormal romance offers insight into the processes and structures that uphold rape culture. Genre tropes normalize abusive behavior and gender ideals, demonstrating the explicit and implicit construction of rape culture, culminating in the depiction of supernatural possession analogous to rape. Here, I reflect on power, control, rape culture, and girlhood in a textual analysis of Nina Malkin’sSwoon, Becca Fitzpatrick’sHush, Hush, and Sarah Rees Brennan’sThe Demon’s Covenant. A constructive reading reflects implicit cultural discourses presented to the girl reader, who can apply this to her own negotiation of girlhood.

The research aims to analyze the analysis of fantasy and representation of female on gay and male homoerotic relationships in the Yaoi Genre. This research uses an ethnographic approach, which is one of the qualitative research methods. The results of this study indicate that Fujoshi's background likes love stories between men is certainly different. But from this study it is found that there are a number of similarities, such as being Fujoshi because they initially like manga and anime, those who were curious about the Yaoi Genre, and those who feel bored with the love story between men and women, as well as various other reasons that made them finally addicted romance between men to have sexual fantasies between men.

Reading the novel Hrvatska Aleksandrida (Croatian Alexander Romance) as a chivalric narrative structured around a historical figure, this paper aims at reinterpretation of it in the key of popular culture and looks into the politics of the representation of the protagonists-bearers of specific ideological values, acting both affirmatively and subversively within the imposed value system. Beside that, the paper will focus on the novel’s strategy of undermining dominant codes, arguing that the chivalric romance provides an ideal frame for the observation of the clash of ideological centers and margins. The codification of the genre increases the transparency of the text, facilitating political readings capable of bringing about the new interpretative potential of the narrative in question. From that theoretical point, the Middle Age chivalric novel Croatian Alexander Romance reveals itself as a textual terrain for clashing specific social forces and their mainfestations, stressing the fact that they can be noticed only by using described methodological optics. The dominant chivalrous and Biblical codes represent exactly two dominant social classes (nobels and religious structures) as owners of social power in the historical period in which the text is inscribed. Therefore, this chivalric narrative, at the same time, respects their imperatives, but also offers disparate motives as fantasy, superstition, satire, social critics, individualistic morality and so on. That kind of contradiction inscribed in the (cultural) text himself confirms the very common thesis of cultural studies theorists about culture as a battlefield. On the text level, it is manifested as the series of incompatible motives that a reader could miss out if they read or overview just the surface level of the text. Because, on that level, the text sets an ideological (imposed) ‘consensus’ which is just specious. They still have its antipode, that they can not completely suppress, and that binary opposition articulates itself in certain segments of the text differently. Its rotations make this text interesting in further readings.

This article analyzes Rossana Campo’s Mentre la mia bella dorme (1999), Duro come l’amore (2005) and Il posto delle donne (2013) in the context of Campo’s work in general, showing how her use of crime genre conventions is specifically designed to reveal flaws and pitfalls inherent in romance narratives. By establishing a complex dialogue between noir and rosa, and by offsetting both traditions with female protagonists who question in different ways the heterosexual paradigm, Campo’s crime novels occupy a unique place in her production, especially in regard to the representation of female desire.

The purpose of this paper is to draw together and engage some of the most prominent themes throughout the literature on emotions, affects, and trauma in classrooms: the representation of trauma in classrooms and its risks; the body as a part of traumatic experience and how it may be engaged pedagogically; and the un/making of affective communities as pedagogical spaces that can be transformative. It is argued that the prevalent representational account of trauma in classrooms imposes certain constraints that frame the pedagogical work that may be conducted. New theoretical and research developments in the affective turn about the implications of emotions, affects, and trauma for the body and politics, pose serious challenges to the representational genre. It is suggested that reparative pedagogies grounded in new theoretical perspectives may invoke critical reflection and transformative action in ways that expose and reframe the affective infrastructures of exclusion, inequality, and injustice.

This research explores the interpretations of LGBTQ+ students regarding Boys love content, a genre featuring romantic relationships between male characters. Despite attracting fans from diverse backgrounds, the genre's interpretations often stem from the perspective of heterosexual women, creating a paradox in LGBTQ+ representation. Through in-depth interviews with LGBTQ+ individuals, fujoshi (female Boys love fans), and heterosexual individuals, this study discusses how symbols of love, romance, and LGBTQ+ identity in the storyline are perceived by the residents of Padang City. The research results unveil a diverse and intricate understanding of LGBTQ+ characters, relationships, and symbols in Boys love.Furthermore, this research elucidates the crucial role played by symbols such as clothing, hairstyles, and accessories in shaping perceptions and identities within the LGBTQ+ community. These findings offer valuable insights into the impact of media representations on understandings of same-sex identities and relationships in societies still contending with traditional norms. The study also acknowledges generational differences in the interpretation of Boys love and how this content influences emotions, identity, and relationships within the LGBTQ+ community in Padang City. This research contributes to the comprehension of the Boys love phenomenon and its influence on LGBTQ+ individuals in Padang City, providing a foundation for understanding the complexity of LGBTQ+ representation in popular culture.

Sarah Perry’s The Essex Serpent is a contemporary feminist text that sheds light on various perceptions, such as women’s identity, trauma, and social misogyny, through the appropriation of historical fiction. This study investigates the text through the lenses of genre theory, feminism, and trauma theory. It demonstrates that the novel faithfully represents a Victorian setting while remaining relevant to post-postmodern readers. The study suggests that the novel appropriates subversive contemporary conventions and simultaneously expresses Victorian themes. It also argues that Perry’s text provides a commentary on the present by integrating the past. Further, this study explores the misogynistic portrayal of women in the novel and concludes that such depiction emphasizes Victorian patriarchy and women’s marginalization. This research highlights the novel’s depiction of trauma as interrelated to identity and examines its influence on the representation of women’s identity. It demonstrates that the novel’s spatial setting evokes traumatic memory and illustrates various responses to trauma through its employment of features and elements of genre fiction.

Trauma involves a rupture in the temporal and symbolic orders at individual and collective levels. Fictional representation of trauma, therefore, is marked by a problem of referentiality, where mimesis fails and chronology breaks down. The article opens with a discussion on the disorientation in the co-ordinative links between the world, the self, and representational tools in the event of a traumatic experience, which results in the crisis of referentiality. The inadequacy of language as a representational medium on the one hand, and unacknowledgement of extreme events beyond “socially validated reality” on the other, constitute two of the major issues creative artists have to deal with. An extreme event leaves a mnemonic gap in the psyche of the traumatized individual, and the process of recovery involves the gap being filled in with narrative memory, suggesting an epistemological void. Narrative memory acts as the surrogate memory of the traumatic event, which is unavailable to willed recollection. This surrogate memory is compared to Jean Baudrillard’s third order of simulation, where a false presence conceals the absence of any basic reality. Recognizing the referential and representational crises at work in rendering traumatic experiences in fiction, the article goes on to explore the ways of bypassing them and discuss the idea of indirect representation in Michael Rothberg’s Traumatic Realism: The Demands of Holocaust Representation. Rothberg believes that an oblique rendition of traumatic events in fiction may be an appropriate representational mode within the conflicting demands of the documentation of reality, meditation on the formal limits by the creative artist, and risky circulation of images in the globalized world. This leads to a deliberation on Anne Whitehead and Laurie Vickroy’s idea of the emerging genre of “trauma fiction” with its thematic and stylistic concerns. The article ends with a summary of the representational techniques likely to feature in fictions written on violent events.

With the publication of The Wild Irish Girl in 1806 Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) inaugurated the national tale, a worldly and impure genre that operates out of a performative notion of representation. Building out of romance tropes and protoethnographic discourse, the national tale relocates the scene of cultural encounter, confounding the distinction between "over here" and "over there" in order to move the modern metropolitan subject/reader into a potentially transformative relation of proximity. Familiar categories come under pressure as the English protagonist/reader is transported to Irish ground, unhinger from familiar space, and subjected to disconcerting encounters that bring about a certain self-estrangement. Through its tactics of displacement, the national tale (practiced by Maria Edgeworth and Charles Robert Maturin as well as by the pioneering Morgan) brings about a troubling of the imperial narrative. Modern critics too often have ignored the destabilizing energies present in this neglected genre.

The article explores the genre specifics of American 9/11 novels about children. The genre features of 9/11 literature include a modification of the classic educational novel. Such genre elements as the hero’s growing up process, their journey beyond ordinary life, and their return as changed individuals, still form the primary narrative focus of these works. However, the temporality and the impetus for action development are altered compared to the classic educational novel, which is typical for the subgenre of the initiation novel. The main catalyst of the plot becomes the traumatic experiences of the characters, representing either the trauma of loss or mental traumatization of a loved one. The interplay of road motive and motive of search symbolizes personal development and introduces elements of a detective quest, while romantic motives are linked to the outcome of the initiation trial and the formation of the character’s personality. To implement the tasks set, this study employs cultural-historical and comparative-typological methods with elements of structural analysis. The scientific novelty of this work consists in conducting a study of the genre features of literature about children and teenagers thematically based on the events of September 11, 2001, on a little-studied corpus of artistic material. For the first time in Russian science, the author of the article attempts to identify and summarize the characteristic genre features of this body of works. The main results of the study lie in revealing of hybridization of genres: the initiation novel is supplemented with elements of detective and romance novels. An important aspect here is the presence of motives of travel and heroism, coupled with the problem of the trauma of not-knowing, traumatic experiences of loss, and orphanhood. This article deepens scientific knowledge on the issue of the specificity of 9/11 literature, highlighting the process of transformation and enrichment of traditional genre elements in the context of historical events that have been reflected in the literary work of the representatives of contemporary culture.

The reaisltic illustration of central characters suffering from rare and severe neurological sicknesses in Lisa Genova’s novels provide an ideal prospect to study trauma in pathography novels, a subset of science fiction. However, despite its scope, these genres of novels have received little consideration in American literary trauma studies. This paper will present a new analysis of trauma in relationship to the ‘neuro’genre, followed by an analysis of narrative and literary devices employed by the author to illustrate traumatic episodes in her novels. Through this case study and critical reflection of how the author has engaged trauma in the novels supports strengthening literary trauma theory within trauma literature and the genre also. The writing of traumatic experiences of the victims, transformed identity, stigmas, fears and phobias and providing face to the sufferer doomed fate, offers an opportunity for a neuroscientist turned novelist like Lisa Genova to advocate about the neurological sicknesses and its suffering with enriched empathetic experience to the non-scientific societies. It also provides a balanced realistic narrative platform for the reader to reflect on their own uncertainties, brought on by the representation of such fictional characterization. This literary research analysis will provide scope to science fiction authors, particularly those aiming to engage with medicine and literature, for a more accurate depiction of trauma in their work. It will further broaden the scope of research in phenomenology, narrative and genre theories and criticism in literary studies.

Background. Turning to the original sources of Ukrainian musical culture, we should point out the greatest achievements that appear to be the folk-song tradition. The problem of authorship of musical folklore was not considered for well-known reasons: its decisive features are oral, anonymous, collective way of creation. If the phenomenon of authorship is present in various manifestations of musical creativity (composing, performing, directing, etc.) and works in various forms of musical art of the past and present, today the study of the role of the singer as a co-author in the contemporary representation of Ukrainian folk song has not yet become a subject of a special scientific interest. The stated problem opens the prospect of developing the interpretation science as a science of the phenomenology of the artist’s creative personality in various artistic discourses. The urgency of the topic is to study the peculiarities of the representation of Ukrainian folk songs in the contemporary concert repertoire on the example of the activities of the iconic representatives of the national culture: Kvitka (Kacey) Cisyk, Nina Matvienko, and Taras Kompanichenko. Objectives. The purpose of the research is to substantiate the role of the singer as the co-author in representing the Ukrainian folk song in the contemporary concert and artistic space on examples of multi-genre patterns (folk song, song-romance, spiritual chants). Methods. The methodology of the research is based on the genre, structurally functional and interpretive scientific approaches. Results. In order to highlight the peculiarities of the representation of Ukrainian folk songs in the concert and artistic space of today, within the framework of the scientific article, let us dwell on the consideration of the following genres of folk song: folk song, song-romance, and chant. In the unique performance by Kvitka Cisyk (1953–1998) of the chosen folk song “Verse, my verse” the singer appears as the co-author of the song. As one knows, this folk song has no authorship (being an example of the collective folk-song tradition). The level of co-authorship of the singer can be defined as the one corresponding to the traditional performance (the performer as the author). Another example considered is G. Skovoroda’s “Every City Should Have Its Character and Rights” in two versions (N. Matvienko and T. Kompanichenko) and two genre dimensions. Thus, in the detailed analysis of the sample, it can be argued that in the performance of N. Matvienko it sounds like a song-romance, and T. Kompanichenko’s interpretation makes clearer its genre attribution as a spiritual chant (the ethical basis). The song-romance performed by N. Matvienko appears as a bright theatrical performance. The singer represents the song in an elegant manner, appealing to the style basics of the musical baroque. In the instrumental accompaniment of the Ensemble of Ancient Music of K. Chechenia (Konstantin Chechenia), the baroque sound-ideal of the court secular culture was embodied. N. Matvienko, as the co-author of this composition, refined the baroque sounding (the deep understanding of the verbal text by G. Skovoroda, organic in the embodiment of the aesthetic and musically-immanent principles of the baroque style). “Every City Should Have Its Character and Rights” performed by T. Kompanichenko is characterized by such features as: 1) the introvert nature of the expression as a notable feature of the kobza-lyre tradition; 2) the interpretation by the performer of the “Skovoroda” song as an example of the spiritual chant (the correspondence of the repertoire of the traditional singing); 3) the organic and indissoluble nature of the vocal and instrumental components (singing performance (spivogra) as an attributive quality of the kobza-lyre tradition). Conclusions. The role of K. Cisyk as the co-author of the folk song “Verse, my verse” is evidenced in the fact that the singer managed to reach the level of the standard of interpretation of Lemko folk song, as much as possible tending to perform the song without any change. The subtle feeling of Ukrainian melody with the introduction of the contemporary sound (the high artistic orchestral arrangements by J. Cortner) is stated as a manifestation of the national sound ideal (according to O. Bench). In N. Matvienko’s performing interpretation of the song-romance “Every City Should Have Its Character and Rights” in the framework of the modern concert stage (with the sound of timbres of unique Ukrainian baroque musical instruments), the national baroque style constants (the concept of “the world as a theatre”) became more visible. The performing interpretation by T. Kompanichenko is aimed at the completeness of the disclosure of the concept of the composition as an ideological and aesthetic orientation of the kobza-lyre tradition. Without violating its style basics, the singer, as the co-author of the composition performed, appears to be the driving force behind the enrichment and development of the established stylistic principles of the kobza-lyre tradition. The provided multi-genre samples performed by the iconic representatives of the national culture are based on the established tradition of folk song and express the integrity of the creative personality of the performers as bearers of the spiritual tradition of ethnic culture. The prospects for further research in this direction may be related to the study of the iconic phenomena of the performing music culture of Ukraine, which find an appeal in the socio-cultural and research space of today

While classical fairy tales do not portray much depth of suffering, many contemporary fairy-tale retellings explore trauma and its aftermath in great detail. This article analyzes depictions of trauma in fairy tales, utilizing as a primary case study the “Beauty and the Beast” retelling A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas, arguing that this text provides a scientifically accurate representation of trauma and its aftermath, thereby articulating the real in fairy tales. Further, this article classifies that work as not simply a “dark” fairy tale (a contentious term that invites rethinking) but rather as fairy-tale torture porn, in a nod to the horror genre that foregrounds torture, surveillance, and the disruption of bodily boundaries and safety. However, the text’s optimistic account of healing is uniquely relevant in a time of widespread trauma due to a global pandemic, thereby demonstrating that fairy tales remain germane in contemporary contexts.

In this essay I construct a literary genealogy that situates William Dean Howells in the middle of a call-and-response literary conversation with popular women writers about race, gender, and genre. Since Howells correlated racial questions with realism, his only novel that treats intermarriage, An Imperative Duty (1891), offered Howells an opportunity to deploy his presumably objective, scientific, realist knowledge about race in order to challenge women's romantic miscegenation plots found in Margret Holmes Bates's The Chamber over the Gate (1886) and Alice Morris Buckner's Towards the Gulf (1887), two novels that he had recently read and reviewed. Yet the tragic mulatta stereotype, a stock figure of romanticism and sentimentality that was resistant to scientific discourse, ruptures Howells's goal of representing the figure according to the tenets of realism. In Iola Leroy (1892), Frances Ellen Watkins Harper cunningly recasts the tragic mulatta stereotype both to critique Howells's project and to represent the potential of black womanhood. Knowledge of Bates and Buckner can change critical conversation about the influence of women writers on Howells, the understanding of the role of the racialized woman in his fiction, and his conception of the link between the romantic mulatta and realist representation. Likewise, Harper takes issue with Howells's supposed ironic sophistication about race, and in Iola Leroy she rewrites many of his views in order to show the ways that miscegenation is at once a novelistic and a national problem.

Deleuze and Guattari’s conception of a minor literature—linguistically deterritorialised, thoroughly political, and collectively charged—can allow us to draw parallels between distant, diverse literatures; demographic and historical similarities, such as numerical ultra-smallness, do so as well. This essay compares literatures which are both minor and ultrasmall: ultraminor, as Bergur Moberg has recently coined. It looks at the ways in which attitudes towards diversity have shaped the representation of foreigners and “the foreign” in genre fiction. It argues that the emergence and popularity of the respective genres—romance in Mauritius and thriller in Norway—is tied to societal responses to demographic concerns. Focusing on two representative novels, Natacha Appanah’s Blue Bay Palace and Gunnar Staalesen’s We Shall Inherit the Wind, it further argues that Mauritians view the instability of diversity as an inescapable starting point, while Bergenseres view this instability as a frightening, however welcomed, resolution.

The “Romance” of M. Stepanova “In commemoration of Memory” is considered in the article as an attempt of non-narrative representation of the material, which traditionally becomes the basis for the epic forms, – the story of genus. The writer believes that the “translation” of such material into the language of literature, organizing the narrative intrigue, formatting of material according to traditional genres patterns makes the past lose its uniqueness, becoming “typical”. In order to preserve an authenticity of the remaining evidence of her family’s life, Stepanova invents a form of “showcase-novel”, which should make its personages “visible”, while allowing them to remain themselves. The writer transforms the discursive parameters of the narrative: her goal becomes not to structure the experience of the personal presence in the world, but not to allow the disappearance in the oblivion of those who once lived. The synthagmatic connectivity of the text is broken, and the paradigm one is strengthened. “Romance” contains “rhymes”, coincidences, associations that tie together different levels of the work. Its formal and substantive parameters begin to be set by the objective / bodily, whereby being fragmented is read as being injured. Thus, the text about the story of the genus becomes the text about the search for different language for the presentation of that history – the language which does not address the traditional narrative and genre instrumentation.

SUBVERSION OF NÚBIA NASCIMENTO MARQUES THROUGH POETRY AND ROMANCESUBVERSION DE NUBIA NASCIMENTO MARQUES A TRAVERS LA POESIE ET LA ROMANCEEste texto tem como objetivo analisar a trajetória artística de Núbia Marques, destacando a mulher poeta e romancista. Em sua larga carreira, essa artista teve vários livros de poesia e romance premiados. Dessa forma, analisaremos o gênero de escrita em que a escritora se espelhava para escrever. Para dar sustentabilidade ao texto, traremos à baila os conceitos de Campo Literário de Bourdieu (1996) e Representação de Chartier (1997). A metodologia adotada foi a pesquisa histórica, a partir da trajetória da escritora Núbia Marques, amparada nos pressupostos da História Cultural. Portanto, ao longo da pesquisa, foi possível perceber que a autora escrevia o que sentia e, muitas vezes, ela falava de si e colocava pseudônimos nos personagens.Palavras-chave: Poeta; Escritora Sergipana; Mulher Intelectual.ABSTRACTThis text aims to analyze the artistic trajectory of Núbia Marques, highlighting the woman poet and novelist. In her long career, this artist has starred in several award-winning poetry and novels. Thus, we will be analyzing the genre of writing that the writer was mirroring to write. To give sustainability to the text we will be bringing the concepts of Literary Field of Bourdieu (1996), Representation of Chartier (1997). The methodology adopted was the research historical, from the trajectory of the writer Nubia Marques, supported by the assumption of Cultural History. Therefore, throughout the research it was possible to perceive that the author wrote what she felt and she often spoke about herself and put pseudonyms on the characters.Keywords: Poet; Sergipana Writer; Intellectual Woman.RÉSUMÉCe texte vise à analyser la trajectoire artistique de Núbia Marques, en soulignant la poète et le romancier. Dans sa longue carrière, cet artiste a joué dans plusieurs poèmes et romans primés. Ainsi, nous allons analyser le genre de l'écriture que l'écrivain réfléchit à écrire. Pour donner un caractère durable au texte, nous aborderons les concepts de Literary Field of Bourdieu (1996), Représentation de Chartier (1997). La méthodologie adoptée était la recherche historique, de la trajectoire de l'écrivain Nubia Marques, soutenu par l'hypothèse de l'histoire culturelle. Par conséquent, tout au long de la recherche il a été possible de percevoir que l'auteur a écrit ce qu'elle ressentait, et elle a souvent parlé d'elle-même et a placé des pseudonymes sur les personnages.Mots-clés: Poète; Écrivain Sergipana; Femme Intellectuelle.

Traumatic experience such as the Holocaust requires traumatic ways of representation. Those who dare to write about it encounter various dilemmas and difficulties in finding the right ways to write about something that cannot be written about. Train trope is a usual symbol of the biggest XX century trauma because rail- way system and different types of cars enabled transportation of millions of people from the whole Europe, whose lives were terminated in the death camps, as well as their wealth, gold and other valuables. Trains found their way in literature with both survivor writers and those who didn’t experience the Holocaust. The symbol of train had been interpreted within psychoanalysis of dreams as passage of time and life before it started to operate as a symbol of the very death in reality. In this paper we tried to investigate how train trope functions in this trauma based literary genre with those writers who were inside and those who felt them as cultural heritage. Those who were inside death trains, such as Elie Wiesel, insisted that the only way of representation has to be in documentary and realistic style. On the other hand, writers who were lucky not to experience the hell on Earth couldn’t write from the ‘inside’ and had to find other ways of representation. Their styles vary from allegory in Kosinsi’s autofictional novel to magic realism in David and Thomas’s novels. Thomas also adds Freudian psychoanalysis while Pinter experiments with stage representation.

Abstract Building on recent scholarship on the novel and Middle Eastern modernities, this article examines how Ottoman intellectuals theorized the novel as a realist genre in the nineteenth century as a way of including Ottoman literary knowledge within global novel theories. In the late Ottoman context, the novel was articulated in terms of conceptual separations (primarily as truth/imitation–fiction/creation, which then develops into nature-beauty and romance-realism binaries). Such conceptual divides inform both the history and the theory of the novel by Ottoman intellectuals. Revisiting the problem of realism in light of the dialectics that these divides built up, this article argues that they dialogically establish realism as a symbiotic regime of representation that merges mimeticism and transcendentalism, which had aesthetic as well as political implications. More importantly, negotiating the tension between imitation and creation through Ottoman-Islamicate terms, Ottoman realism complicates the relation between literature and secularization as it speaks to the institutionalization of modern literature.

In the broader field of trauma theory, trauma is often characterised as an event that is physical, violent, and sporadic. However, feminist trauma theorists have argued that there are other forms of trauma inflicted by ideological systems such as patriarchy, resulting in less transparent versions of the traumatic. Fantasy literature, particularly children’s fantasy, has a potential to construct new visions of society that transcend these patriarchal systems for their young female heroines, and to reveal the functions of patriarchal trauma. By applying feminist trauma theory to children’s fantasy literature, this article exposes the subtler and more nuanced ways in which trauma operates, extending beyond understandings of physical and overt violence. The article offers a close reading of Jessica Townsend’s Nevermoor books (2017-2020)—a seminal Australian series that has risen to acclaim for its inclusivity, unconventional representations of gender, and creative world-building since its debut. I argue that Townsend repurposes the tropes of the fantasy genre in the Nevermoor series to hold a mirror to the harmful effects of patriarchy and the gendered violence it perpetuates. As a result, it rejects the common characterisation of trauma as overtly physical, violent, and sporadic. Rather, the series suggests that the representation of trauma in children’s literature, especially middle-grade fiction, is also gendered, and the direct consequence of patriarchy.

It is now twenty years since the publication of Jamie O’Neill’s At Swim, Two Boys (2001). O’Neill’s novel was not the first Irish novel to depict same-sex passion, and not even the first Irish gay novel of the post-decriminalisation period. However, it did attain a wider and higher level of recognition among mainstream Irish, and international, readers. This may have been at least partly due to O’Neill’s decision to write a historical romance – a genre which still retains its enduring appeal for readers. By adapting this genre, O’Neill uses fiction to unearth, and imaginatively recreate, an archaeology of same-sex passions between men in revolutionary Ireland. As such, his novel speaks powerfully to a yearning to make the silences of history speak and is motivated by the belief that, as Scott Bravmann puts it in a different context, ‘lesbian and gay historical self-representation – queer fictions of the past – help construct, maintain and contest identities – queer fictions of the present.’ Revisiting O’Neill’s novel now – after two decades of remarkable social change for Ireland’s LGBT communities, and after almost a decade of national commemoration of the revolutionary period – is a timely opportunity to reflect on the relationship between history, fiction and how we imagine sexual liberation. Keywords: Gay Men in Irish Culture; Historical Fiction; Jamie O’Neill; Denis Kehoe; ANU Theatre Company

The last two decades have seen a rising interest in the Holocaust and the expulsion of ethnic Germans after World War II in Czech literature. Novels by Hana Androníková, Radka Denemarková, Magdalena Platzová, Kateřina Tučková, and Jáchym Topol share a quest for a new poetics of remembrance. Informed by contemporary discussions about Czech memory politics, these novels are characterised by spectral visions of Germans and Jews alike, a dichotomy of trauma and nostalgia, and an understanding of Czech history as postcatastrophically entangled and thus calling for multidirectional forms of remembrance. In this respect, literary memorial forms compensate for the absence of other memorial forms addressing these topics through a transnational lens. The interaction of different historical points of view is achieved by a time frame extending from the war to the present day and stressing the intercultural dynamics of Czechs, Jews, and Germans retroactively. In order to illustrate this entanglement, authors make use of popular genres, such as romance, and create texts shaped by genre fluidity, memory theory, documentary practices, and concepts of transnationality.

ABSTRACT: We are now at a time that will see the end of direct survivor testimony, and thus the transmission of Holocaust memory is increasingly complicated by its mediation through the voices and narratives of subsequent generations of Holocaust writers and scholars. The rendition of Holocaust testimony has expanded to include not only visual and textual forms of representation, but the hybrid genre of Holocaust graphic narratives. But I Live: Three Stories of Child Survivors of the Holocaust , a polyphonic dialogue among scholars, survivors, and graphic artists, is an innovative approach to Holocaust representation that depends upon not only a conversation among text and image but also past and present. At the center of this book are the testimonies of child survivors, whose accounts of resilience and resistance are illustrated by comics artists. This article discusses the ways in which comics artists, in reinscribing survivors' narratives, create a visual testimony to memory by recreating a material landscape of trauma.

The article argues for an understanding of popular icons such as Frank Sinatra as best seen through the concept of moving narrative fields, adopted from a theory of literary modes, put forward by Robert Scholes. The positive and negative poles of an icon such as Sinatra corresponds to the metaphor of glow and pain, used by Daniel Herwitz to describe the status of popular icons in general. In Sinatra's case, as the article makes clear, a highly complex representation emerges, consisting of both mimetic and imaginary elements. The Sinatra icon is understood as a representation of coolness, romance and loneliness. Stereotypes associated with Sinatra are above all the romantic and swinging crooner/seducer and the loner/saloon singer. The narratives used in connection to Sinatra involve e.g. the film genre of film noir, but also other fictional genres such as the fairy tale, the soap opera, the Bildungsroman, the melodrama and the allegory. Besides an analysis of the narratives concerning Sinatra characterized by the modal approach, questions of artefacts are also addressed, artefacts which do not easily fit into any given modal context. Such "floating" artefacts associated with the Sinatra icon, discussed in the text, are cigarettes, tobacco smoke, the Fedora hat and, briefly, the microphone. A critique is also offered of attempts to formulate a "totalizing", homogenous narrative of the Sinatra icon.

Whilst Iranian Marjane Satrapi's works, Persépolis 1 and 2, have received considerable critical attention, no study has been carried out in the field of Lebanese bande dessinée. This article examines two works of graphic memoirs (a growing genre in the contemporary field of graphic narrative) by Zeina Abirached, Mourir partir revenir. Le Jeu des hirondelles (2007) and Je me souviens. Beyrouth (2008), focusing on the testimonial dimension of autobiographical representations of selfhood in connection with the Lebanese Civil War (1975–90). The aim is to analyse the aesthetics developed by Abirached in her representation of war-related trauma and demonstrate the extent to which the complexity of the bande dessinée as a cross-discursive narrative instrument – with the duality of its visual/verbal form – lends itself to the expression of autobiographical memory, and more specifically traumatic memory in the récit d'enfance.

The paper deals with the main tendencies of the artistic reception of women images in modern Ukrainian novels. The principles of modeling femininity in literature have been considered from the positions of the gender studies, postcolonial and psychoanalytic theory. It is proved that the peculiarities of this modeling are determined by stylistic and genre tendencies of the Ukrainian literature. The interpretation of feminine images typical for the national literary tradition (mother, family-keeper, demonic woman) has been demonstrated in numerous examples. These images correlate with the fundamental artistic principles of the turning points in history (actualization of the archetypes, attention to the irrational manifestations of human psychics). They display the ‘masculine’ literary tradition (representation of a woman as an external object), but at the same time demonstrate a new accent in the understanding of the gender roles (woman as a mentor of a man). The alternative types of the feminine identity represented by feminist and culturological women’s writing have been explored as well. Special attention has been paid to procreation as the main woman’s ability, which forms different models of feminine mentality – from the essentialist mother-type to the image of a child-free woman. The modeling of a feminine artistic worldview becomes an actual strategy in overcoming the postcolonial trauma. It is explained by the peculiarities of the postcolonial literatures, which fulfill their historical reflections in the local family stories. In this context, feminine conscience gets the status of a memory-keeper and shows the ability to trace the development of national history in its everyday dimensions. Based on the large-scale generalization of the last decades’ artistic practice, the researcher determines the main worldview intentions of modern novels, in particular the tendency to achieve gender parity, the full-fledged dialogue of men and women as the equal subjects of culture creation.

Romance is communicated in an unusual way in digital gaming. The systemisation of one of the most complex and nebulous social engagements, that of romantic love and relationships, often leads to stilted encounters and the prioritisation of sexual interactions. For AAA RPGs, dialogue acts as the primary arbiter of romantic relationships. But dialogue prompts often do not fully convey what will be said by the characters. To compensate for this communication shorthand, some developers have decided to include “dialogue icons”. This is any picture, symbol or image representation that occurs next to a dialogue option. These icons are supplementary tools to aid communication and imply tone where it may have been vague. Dialogue icons have become more common in the RPG genre in recent years, but how they can affect a player’s experience of a game has been critically overlooked in the scholarship. Through a close textual reading of CD Projekt Red’s 2020 game Cyberpunk 2077, I analyse the impacts of these dialogue icons. Drawing on work from Domsch (2017), Rusch (2009) and Shaw (2014), I look at how these dialogue icons serve as a tool of clarity for players, and how this drastically alters the tone and control of in-game romantic subplots. I evaluate the effectiveness and power of this ludic communication, as well as the impact on the narrative and player experience. Ultimately, I find that while dialogue icons do give players the ability to curate their experience by clarifying if an encounter will be romantic in nature, they ultimately diminish the game’s ability to represent social complexity and all but eradicate the possibility of unplanned queer in-game encounters. Communicating romance is not an altogether simple task for developers, and it is worth thinking about how these tools impact play.

This study explores contemporary concepts of identity as a post-postmodernist perception in Lane Moore’s (2018) Memoir, How to Be Alone. The significance of this study is that it examines the impact of cyberculture on human connections and the role of technology in shaping human perception of identity and personhood. It also sheds light on the effects of the internet in creating new social phenomena like ghosting and allowing individuals to transgress social boundaries. The study assesses the representation of the self in the memoir and its effect on the reinforcement of the author’s voice. It reveals that How to Be Alone is a text that adheres to the post-trauma paradigm that integrates a narration based on resilience and humor. The study further concludes that Moore’s memoir endorses twenty-first-century generic conventions and signifies the importance of the memoir, as a genre, in forming individuals’ social and cultural features. The study employs cyber-criticism, post-trauma theory, and post-postmodernism to evaluate the text’s generic conventions and narrative techniques. It offers fundamental inquiries: It questions the integration of technological conventions into post-postmodernist societies and examines the effect of this incorporation. It also inquires about the evolution of trauma. Finally, it has queries concerning post-postmodernist ideals and their development in the 21st century.

Graph distance measures have emerged as an effective tool for evaluating the similarity or dissimilarity between graphs. Recently, there has been a growing trend in the application of movie networks to analyze and understand movie stories. Previous studies focused on computing the distance between individual characters in narratives and identifying the most important ones. Unlike previous techniques, which often relied on representing movie stories through single-layer networks based on characters or keywords, a new multilayer network model was developed to allow a more comprehensive representation of movie stories, including character, keyword, and location aspects. To assess the similarities among movie stories, we propose a methodology that utilizes a multilayer network model and layer-to-layer distance measures. We aim to quantify the similarity between movie networks by verifying two aspects: (i) regarding many components of the movie story and (ii) quantifying the distance between their corresponding movie networks. We tend to explore how five graph distance measures reveal the similarity between movie stories in two aspects: (i) finding the order of similarity among movies within the same genre, and (ii) classifying movie stories based on genre. We select movies from various genres: sci-fi, horror, romance, and comedy. We extract movie stories from movie scripts regarding character, keyword, and location entities to perform this. Then, we compute the distance between movie networks using different methods, such as the network portrait divergence, the network Laplacian spectra descriptor (NetLSD), the network embedding as matrix factorization (NetMF), the Laplacian spectra, and D-measure. The study shows the effectiveness of different methods for identifying similarities among various genres and classifying movies across different genres. The results suggest that the efficiency of an approach on a specific network type depends on its capacity to capture the inherent network structure of that type. We propose incorporating the approach into movie recommendation systems.

This article looks closely at Anita Desai’s Clear Light of Day from the critical perspective of trauma studies with a particular focus on the representational crisis posed by individual and collective catastrophic events. It positions the novel within the category of partition fiction so as to enable a contextual reading—one that takes the literary-historical milieu as well as the evolution of the genre into consideration. Such positioning makes comparison and cross-referencing between texts possible. Any traumatic event causes a mnemonic gap in the individual victim’s consciousness and a politically motivated suppression of memory on the level of the collective. This problematizes its representation in the realistic mode, and partition novelists, especially from the 1980s and onwards, have resorted to indirect means to represent this massive disruption of social cohesion in the subcontinental history. Anita Desai, for example, uses the motifs of sibling rivalry and fragility of social relationships to imply the antagonism between India and Pakistan as well as Hindus and Muslims. Clear Light of Day gives its audience a localized view of history in the sense that it illustrates the profound consequences of the Partition on the members of the Das family. This article has attempted to explore how this localized view through indirect means of representation may yield insights into the intersecting points of public and private traumas and their recovery.

ABSTRACT Film is not far from the word work of art, a film is not foreign to society by presenting entertainment, experiences, and new knowledge for the audience. The film directed by James Marsh entitled “The Theory Of Everything” is a genre film Biography, Drama, Romance which contains a lot of moral message to the first love story of Stephen Hawking’s life journey that led him to become a famous and successful physicist. The film is adapted from Jane’s 2007 book “Traveling to Infinity: My Life With Stephen”. The author aims (1) description of the meaning of Denotation in the film “The Theory Of Everything” by James Marsh (2) description of the meaning Connotation in the film “The Theory Of Everything” (3) Knowing myths in the film “The Theory Of Everything”. The theory used by the author is the theory of Roland Barthes using semiotic analysis consisting of Denotation, Connotation and Myth. The result obtained by the author are related to the representation of moral messages from Stephen Hawking in the film “The Theory Of Everything” the author finds a representation of Stephen Hawking’s life journey as a student majoring in Astrophysics by identifying the Denotation, Connotation and Myth in the scenes in the film “The Theory Of Everything” this research uses qualitative with Roland Barthes semiotic analysis approach. ABSTRAK Film tidak jauh dari kata karya seni, sebuah film bukan hal asing bagi masyarakat dengan menyajikan hiburan, pengalaman, dan pengetahuan baru bagi penonton. Film yang disutradarai oleh James Marsh berjudul “The Theory Of Everything” merupakan film bergenre Biography, Drama, Romance yang mengandung banyak tentang pesan moral hingga kisah cinta pertama dari Stephen dengan berbagai lika-liku perjalan hidup Stephen Hawking yang membawanya menjadi seorang fisikawan terkenal dan sukses. Film ini diadaptasi dari buku yang ditulis oleh Jane tahun 2007 lalu yang berjudul “Traveling to Infinity: My Life With Stephen”. Penulis bertujuan (1) deskripsi makna Denotasi dalam film “The Theory Of Everything” karya James Marsh (2) deskripsi makna Konotasi dalam film “The Theory Of Everything” (3) Mengetahui mitos dalam film “The Theory Of Everything”. Teori yang digunakan penulis adalah teori Roland Barthes dengan menggunakan analisis semiotika yang terdiri dari Denotasi, Konotasi dan Mitos. Hasil yang diperoleh penulis berkaitan dengan representasi pesan moral dari Stephen Hawking dalam film “The Theory Of Everything” penulis menemukan representasi perjalanan hidup Stephen Hawking sebagai mahasiswa jurusan Astrofisika dengan mengidentifikasi Denotasi, Konotasi dan Mitos yang ada dalam scene-scene dalam film “TheTheory Of Everything” penelitian ini menggunakan kualitatif dengan pendekatan analisis semiotika Roland Barthes.

The characteristics of documentary comics in modern multidisciplinary scientific space is presented, the methods of nonlinear historiography (narrative, oral history, commemoration) and post-documentalism are presented. The scientific discourse focuses on the types of interpretation of reality in comics, the hybridity of genre and style features, the types and forms of empathic involvement of the reader, the compositional specifics of graphic journalism. Scientists’ particular attention is focused on the forms of representation of the “lost history and the history of the lost” (N. Chute), on the means of expanding the space of human memory and historical narrative. The modern direction of scientific research, where documentary comics act as a kind of memory archiver in the form of a visual narrative (N. Mickwitz), as an effective means of understanding and experiencing the historical trauma, brings comics’ studies into the space of global commemorative and historical perspective research. In its own working definition of the genre, narrative, temporal deferment, and veracity of subjective evaluation are actualized. Using the formation example of the Ukrainian comic-space, the principles of accelerated and almost simultaneous deployment of the heroic and documentary narratives are characterized, the features of documentalism in the comic “Will”, the graphic novel “Hole” by S. Zakharov are analyzed. Documentary storytelling in the format of comic journalism is investigated on the basis of the collection “Shadows of forgotten ancestors. Graphic stories”, multiplatform (dos-a-dos format book, comic book, audio performance on YuoTube) hybrid presentation of thematic narrative is illustrated within the “Underground Sky” publication.

The purpose of the study is to find out the role of musical ecphrasis in the early stories of A. I. Kuprin (works of 1889-1896). The scientific novelty of the work lies in the fact that for the first time a detailed sequential analysis of the precedents of musical citation and references to musical sources is given, their role in the narrative structure is analyzed. The identification and analysis of cases of verbal representation of musical works in Kuprin's texts gives an idea of the writer's search and formation of his own unique artistic handwriting. The significance of this research is generally associated with the little-studied phenomenon of the game poetics of Kuprin's early prose, especially the earliest stories, which for a long time were considered as learnedly immature, therefore not deserving any serious literary attention. As a result of the study, it was shown that the innovation of the young Kuprin consisted in a bold experimental attempt to combine fiction with related art forms, for example, musical opera, romance, to create precedents for "musical citation" as a complex genre symbiosis. Such syncretism is explained by the desire of the young writer to develop his "corporate" style by creating centonic texts in which musical allusions and quotations take on the role of a complex language of allegory and form new semantic connections. Musical ecphrasis in the analyzed works serves as a tool for encoding meanings, sets the axial points of the unfolding of the plot, programs the fate of the characters, motivates their behavior.

Twilight: Los Angeles, 1992 (1994), Anna Deavere Smith’s 15th project in her On the Road series, is a docudrama that explores American identity through the diverse cultural memories of the 1992 Los Angeles crisis. She works to make the play an open platform where racial minority groups in multicultural America can negotiate and coexist by repeating interviews from various groups who were involved in the L.A. crisis. Despite the many advantages in her docudrama, the genre itself has been criticized, owing to the dubious characteristics of “reality,” “truthfulness,” and “neutrality” that she emphasizes. This paper examines the characteristics of the docudrama that Smith employs and investigates whether Twilight: Los Angeles, 1992 is effective in achieving her aim of shedding light on the diverse layers of American identity. In particular, this paper will focus on “reality,” one of the significant traits of the docudrama, and will investigate whether or not this might cause other forms of racial discrimination. Moreover, the researcher will analyze whether Smith’s racial representation is balanced so that the play becomes meaningful to minorities and helps them work through their foundational historical trauma, that is, the L.A. crisis, which has already become part of their cultural identity.

Russian history of the early XX century marks a landmark event – establishment of the State Duma, which was the “representation of people” in the government system of the Russian Empire and the emergence parliamentarism in Russia. The “memory studies” methodology elucidates the dramatic history of the State Duma by describing behavioral patterns of the deputies and motivation for their actions, as well as offers a new perspective on this institution of power as the image imprinted in memory of the deputies: diary notes during sessions of the Duma, and memoirs written abroad. The historians dealing with the “memory studies” genre bring the image of “era” to the forefront: historical events in the perception of their contemporaries, participants, witnesses, as well as individual experience, rational assessments, and emotional experiences captured in the diaries, correspondence, and memoirs, which are the sources for studying historical memory. These texts trace the dependence of life path of the deputies, representatives of the Russian political elite, and their personal stories on the fate of the Russian Empire. Such “dependence” is manifested in the chain “memory-identity-trauma”, which is the focus of attention in “memory studies”.

The present paper “The Phenomenon of Erotic Fiction in Latvian and World Literature” is devoted to the fiction genre acquiring immense popularity in Western literature while having attracted only fragmentary attention in Latvian literary scholarship, namely the erotic fiction, which is currently among those genres of literature most widely read among Latvian readers and therefore titled as somewhat phenomenal. The first part of the paper provides insight into the history of the erotic world literature and the most common division of the genre into the three basic categories; this part also provides a short overview of the erotic aspects in the Latvian original fiction during the 20th century. It has been possible to decide that the erotic prose has had only a limited representation in Latvian literature, mainly due to historical and socio-political factors, because the common tendency was to euphemise the said aspects, which were often met with an open reproach of the more Puritan part of the society. Erotic aspects in poetry and prose somewhat flourished during the epoch of Decadence (the first decade of the 20th century) and after that, only during the turn of the 20th/21st centuries when the prohibitions invoked by the Soviet censorship were lifted. Nevertheless, even during these periods, the more free approach resulted in only a few prose works of this kind or else episodes in works of other genres. The conclusive part of the paper is devoted to four novels by currently the most popular author of erotic romance in Latvian literature, Karīna Račko, inviting at the same time the discussion about the reasons for the popularity of these novels which might proceed from their common structural characteristics. It is possible to observe that the novel’s structures are notably similar to the basic plotlines of fairy-tales that the readers recognise on an archetypal level. Consequently, this makes it possible to view these novels as a sort of fairy-tales for modern grown-ups whose attraction is multiplied by the fact that the texts include specific aspects of visualisation that make it possible for the readers to identify closely with the characters.

This article explores the intersection of fairy tales and Holocaust narratives, exploring the emerging trend of presenting Holocaust tales within the fairy-tale genre as a societal response to grappling with Holocaust trauma. Examining linguistic and ethical approaches in works by authors Liz Braswell, Louise Murphy, and Jane Yolen, it poses a central question: does merging Holocaust and fairy-tale narratives enhance understanding or hinder respectful remembrance? The article scrutinises subliminal storytelling in Holocaust tales, highlighting varied authorial approaches, from Braswell's cryptic social conflict to Murphy's and Yolen's use of vague references within a Holocaust-aware context. Exploring how Holocaust tales navigate the balance between fantasy and historical context, it analyses recontextualisation in the works of Braswell and Murphy. Braswell's ‘Beauty and the Beast’ engages with social conflict and history by transforming the curse, while Murphy's ‘Hansel and Gretel’ reframes the oven as a symbol of safety. Additionally, the article addresses the ethical dimensions of representing the Holocaust in children's fiction, emphasising the use of fantasy to enhance accessibility and emotional engagement. Analysing works like Yolen's ‘Briar Rose’ and Braswell's ‘Beauty and the Beast’ illustrates how these narratives navigate historical representation complexities, aiming to preserve awareness and prompt moral reflections. The article argues that fantasy elements not only render the Holocaust accessible to contemporary readers but also provide a unique avenue for emotional engagement, transcending the limitations of historical facts.

The double is a common feature in fantastic fiction, and it plays a prominent part in the Gothic revival of the late nineteenth century. It questions the notion of a coherent identity by proposing the idea of a fragmented self that is at the same time familiar and frighteningly other. On the other hand, the double is also a way of representing the tensions of life in large urban centers. Although it is more usually associated with the fantastic, the motif of the double has spread to other fictional genres, including science fiction, a genre also concerned with the investigation of identity and the nature of the human. The aim of this article is to discuss the representation of the double in contemporary science fiction, more particularly in its dystopian mode, where the issue of identity acquires a special relevance, since dystopias focus on the troubled relation between individual and society. Works such as Greg Egan’s short story “Learning to Be Me”; White Christmas, an episode from the television series Black Mirror; Kazuo Ishiguro’s novel Never Let Me Go; and the film Moon, directed by Duncan Jones, will be briefly examined in order to trace the ways the figure of the double has been rearticulated in dystopian science fiction as a means to address new concerns about personal identity and the position of the individual in society.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------HUMANIDADE PRECÁRIA: O DUPLO NA FICÇÃO CIENTÍFICA DISTÓPICAO duplo é um elemento comum na literatura fantástica e desempenha um papel importante na retomada do gótico no final do século XIX. Ele questiona a noção de uma identidade coesa ao propor a ideia de um “eu” fragmentado que é ao mesmo tempo familiar e assustadoramente outro. Por outro lado, o duplo também é uma maneira de representar as tensões da vida nos grandes centros urbanos. Apesar de ser costumeiramente associado ao fantástico, o motivo do duplo se espalhou para outros gêneros, incluindo a ficção científica, gênero também preocupado com a investigação da identidade e da natureza do humano. O objetivo deste artigo é discutir a representação do duplo na ficção científica contemporânea, mais especificamente na sua modalidade distópica, onde a questão da identidade adquire uma relevância especial, uma vez que a distopia tem como foco a relação atribulada entre indivíduo e sociedade. Obras como o conto “Learning to Be Me”, de Greg Egan; White Chistmas, episódio da série de televisão Black Mirror; o romance Never Let Me Go, de Kazuo Ishiguro; e o filme Moon, dirigido por Duncan Jones, serão brevemente analisados a fim de rastrear as maneiras como a figuro do duplo é rearticulada na ficção científica distópica como um meio de trabalhar novas inquietações a respeito da identidade pessoal e da posição do indivíduo na sociedade.---Original em inglês.

Введение. Жанр идиллии, развивающийся в мировой литературе еще с античности, является определяющим для поэтики русской литературы первой трети XIX в. Эстетика романтизма помогла ему развиться, и таким образом возникла романтическая идиллия.Большой вклад в развитие идиллии в России внес В. А. Жуковский, основоположник романтизма в русской литературе. Масштаб творчества поэта был достаточно велик и оказал влияние на произведения современников, среди которых был и Н. В. Гоголь, проявлявший в юношеские годы немалый интерес к идиллической тематике.В связи с этим целью статьи является определение особенностей реализации идиллической модели В. А. Жуковского в ранней поэме Гоголя «Ганц Кюхельгартен».Материал и методы. Материалом исследования является идиллическая поэма Н. В. Гоголя «Ганц Кюхельгартен», а также оказавшие на нее влияние произведения В. А. Жуковского, среди которых идиллия «Деревенский сторож в полночь»; «павловские стихотворения»; стихотворения «Теон и Эсхин», «Тоска», «Лалла Рук», «Там небеса и воды ясны!»; элегии «Славянка» и «Вечер»; романс «Желание»; песня «Путешественник»; статья «О слоге простом и украшенном».В работе используются биографический и сравнительный методы исследования.Результаты и обсуждение. Жанр идиллии очень близок В. А. Жуковскому. Идиллическое мировоззрение органично существует в его поэтическом сознании. Период сильного интереса поэта к идиллии синхронизируется с его юностью. В молодости он черпает новые поэтические формы преимущественно из европейских идиллий. В них Жуковского привлекают образы простой, обыденной жизни, сфокусированность на сельской природе, патриархальных нравах. Поэт особенно вдохновляется натурфилософскими аспектами.Отличительными чертами произведений Жуковского, созданных в данном жанре, являются описательность, обилие статических природных картин, вольный стих. Кроме того, отдельно выделим и авторскую установку на воспроизведение естественной динамики жизни. Поэт выступает живописцем, который стремится в своих картинах передать мельчайшие детали внутренней жизни природы.Однако это лишь эксплицитная часть идиллий Жуковского. Намного важнее их имплицитная часть. Под ней мы подразумеваем сакральное, религиозное и мистическое. Мы фиксируем определенную эволюцию Жуковского-идиллика. От воспевания пейзажей и изображения жизни человека на лоне природы поэт осознанно переходит к более сложному творческому этапу, фокусируясь на мистическом и прислушиваясь к своему религиозному чувству.Что касается других особенностей жанра идиллии в творчестве Жуковского, подобно контрастности, двоемирию романтизма, произведения этого жанра, переводимые им, есть сплав, синтез прекрасного и таинственного в мире. Неслучайно многие из них открываются ночными пейзажами.Таковыми были особенности реализации жанра идиллии в творческой системе Жуковского. Именно под их влиянием пишет свое первое произведение, поэму «Ганц Кюхельгартен», Н. В. Гоголь.Идиллическая модель Жуковского в поэме Гоголя «Ганц Кюхельгартен» идентифицируется практически сразу. Это подтверждает, во-первых, топос поэмы (сельская глубинка). Во-вторых, читателю явлены картины пасторальной жизни. Немаловажно, что в начале поэмы возникает образ семьи (патриархальность – это важный аспект идиллии). Кроме того, в поэме Гоголя обнаруживаются и иные традиционные для идиллии топосы (дом, сад).По примеру Жуковского Гоголь использует в произведении мотивы еды, сна и музыки. Они широко представлены в тексте и подчеркивают идиллические моменты поэмы.Геройный ряд можно считать также традиционным для идиллии (каноны которой в русской литературе первым заложил именно Жуковский), поскольку подробное представление автором семьи Луизы – это следование идиллической направленности к полноте жизни, которая здесь есть целостность семьи.В поэме наблюдается стремление героев к достижению счастья, персонажи мечтают об идиллической жизни. Однако в главном герое поэмы больше просматриваются романтические черты. И тем не менее в нем нет страсти героев Байрона. В итоге Ганц, скорее, следует линии поведения Эсхина, воплощенного Жуковским. Заключение. Таким образом, Гоголь при работе над своей юношеской поэмой «Ганц Кюхельгартен» ориентировался на идиллическую модель Жуковского. На это указывают традиционные элементы идиллий поэта, которые явно присутствуют в тексте Гоголя (образ семьи, пасторальные пейзажи, природные циклы, мотивы еды, сна, детства и т. п.). Однако Гоголь игнорирует некоторые важные элементы, свойственные идиллиям Жуковского. Так, гоголевский главный герой демонстрирует скорее черты романтического героя, нежели идиллического. Кроме того, в гоголевской поэме нет ярко выраженной мистической завесы. И, наконец, в ней, безусловно, ощутим диссонанс (субстрат романтического и идиллического). Причина его заключается в недостаточно продуманной компиляции художественных приемов ведущих европейских и русских литераторов. Introduction. The genre of idyll, which has been developing in world literature since Antiquity, is crucial for the poetics of Russian literature in the first third of the XIX century. The aesthetics of Romanticism helped it develop, and thus a romantic idyll arose. A great contribution to the development of idyll in Russia was made by V. A. Zhukovsky, the founder of Romanticism in Russian literature. The scale of the poet’s work was quite large and influenced the works of his contemporaries, among whom was N. V. Gogol, who showed considerable interest in idyllic themes in his youth. Aim and objectives. In this regard, the purpose of the article is to determine the features of V. A. Zhukovsky’s idyllic model implementation in N. V. Gogol’s early poem “Ganz Kuchelgarten”. Material and methods. The material of the study is the idyllic poem by N. V. Gogol “Ganz Kuchelgarten”, as well as the works of V. A. Zhukovsky that influenced it, including an idyll “The Village Watchman at Midnight”, “pavlovian poems”, the poems “Theon and Aeschines”, “Anguish” (“toska”), “Lalla-Rookh”, “There the heavens and waters are clear!”, the elegies “Slavyanka” and “Evening”, the romance “Desire”, the song “Traveller”, the article “About a simple and decorated style”. Biographical and comparative research methods are used in the work. Results and discussion. The genre of idyll is very close to V. A. Zhukovsky. An idyllic worldview exists organically in his poetic consciousness. The period of the poet’s strong interest in idyll is synchronized with his youth. In his youth, he draws new poetic forms mainly from European idylls. In them Zhukovsky is attracted by images of simple, everyday life, focus on rural nature, patriarchal mores. The poet is especially inspired by the natural philosophical aspects. The distinctive features of Zhukovsky’s works created in this genre are descriptiveness, an abundance of static natural paintings, free verse. In addition, we will separately highlight the author’s aim at reproducing the natural dynamics of life. The poet acts as a painter who strives to convey in his paintings the smallest details of the inner nature life. However, this is only an explicit part of Zhukovsky’s idylls. Their implicit part is much more important. By it we mean the sacred, the religious and the mystical. We see a certain evolution of Zhukovsky’s idyll. From the glorification of landscapes and the depiction of human life in the bosom of nature, the poet consciously moves to a more complex creative stage, focusing on the mystical and listening to his religious feeling. As for other features of the idyll genre in Zhukovsky’s work, like contrast or two-worldness of romanticism, the works of this genre translated by him are an alloy, a synthesis of the beautiful and the enigmatic in the world. It is no coincidence that many of them open with night landscapes. These were the features of the idyll genre implementation in Zhukovsky’s creative system. It was under their influence that N. V. Gogol wrote his first work, the poem “Ganz Kuchelgarten”. Zhukovsky’s idyllic model in Gogol’s poem “Ganz Kuchelgarten” is identified almost immediately. This is confirmed, firstly, by the topos of the poem (rural hinterland). Secondly, by the fact that the reader is shown pictures of pastoral life. It is also important that at the beginning of the poem there is an image of the family (patriarchy is an important aspect of the idyll). In addition, Gogol’s poem reveals other traditional topos for idyll (house, garden). Following the example of Zhukovsky, Gogol uses the motifs of food, sleep and music in the work. They are widely represented in the text and emphasize the idyllic moments of the poem. The heroic series can also be considered traditional for the idyll (the canons of which in Russian literature were first laid by Zhukovsky), since the author’s detailed representation of Louise’s family is following an idyllic orientation to the fullness of life, which here is the integrity of the family. The poem shows the desire of the characters to achieve happiness, they dream of an idyllic life. However, romantic features are more visible in the main character of the poem. And yet it lacks the passion of Byron’s heroes. At the end, Ganz rather follows the line of behavior of Aeschines, embodied by Zhukovsky. Conclusion. Thus, Gogol, when working on his youthful poem “Ganz Kuchelgarten”, was guided by the idyllic model of Zhukovsky. This is indicated by the traditional elements of the poet’s idylls, which are clearly present in Gogol’s text (the image of a family, pastoral landscapes, natural cycles, the motif of food, sleep and childhood). However, Gogol ignores some important elements inherent in Zhukovsky’s idylls. So, Gogol’s main character demonstrates the features of a romantic hero rather than an idyllic one. In addition, there is no pronounced mystical veil in Gogol’s poem. And finally, dissonance (the substratum of the romantic and idyllic) is certainly felt in it. The reason for it lies in the insufficiently thought-out compilation of leading European and Russian writers’ artistic techniques.

This essay looks at genre as a complex set of discursive threads running unevenly through production, TV text, and fan reception. Through a case study of the reception of fan favorite Roswell, this essay interrogates the role of genre in spectatorship. In its mixing of teen and science fiction elements, Roswell trod upon contested generic spaces, eliciting strong reaction from its viewers. Connections between genre and gender came to the fore, as producer commentary linked science fiction with male audiences and teen romance with female audiences. Fans responded with analyses that greatly complicated and at times overtly rejected industrial suppositions regarding the gendered work of genre. Through these fan conversations, we can witness the complexity of genre as discursive thread moving through not only TV texts but also multivariant fan responses. I intend this essay to work at two levels. My analysis of fan responses to Roswell models the possibilities of a close study of genre discourse. At the same time, my case study probes the nature of genre in fan engagement, as genre discourses intersect with other fan concerns such as character identification, perceptions of textual quality, and questions of gender representation. While we cannot necessarily look to fan accounts for proof of how viewers engage with genre, they do tell us how fans frame their engagement with genre, how they incorporate genre into their performance of fannishness, and how they perform and thus enact genre itself as a shared cultural process.

La tradition romanesque médiévale fait un usage massif du prologue. L’entrée en texte y représente le lieu de légitimation privilégié de l’œuvre. Le prologue manquant de Galeran de Bretagne, roman du début du XIIIe siècle, nous prive de renseignement sur les intentions poétiques du trouvère Renaut. Ce sont donc les aventures des personnages qui reflètent la poétique du récit. Or, si les prouesses chevaleresques du héros proposent le reflet des arts rhétoriques qui sous-tendent la création romanesque, le talent musical de l’héroïne et sa dextérité à manier l’aiguille revêtent eux aussi une fonction particulière. Cet article montre comment, au sein d’un roman d’amour, la représentation d’un couple amoureux influence l’analogie entre l’écrivain et le héros.AbstractMedieval romance tradition was deeply indebted to the notion of the prologue. The prologue represents the privileged site of legitimation in this genre. Galeran de Bretagne, romance of the XIIIth Century — which has no prologue — therefore cannot reveal the poetic designs of Renaut, the poet. So it is through the adventures of the characters that the poetry is introduced into the narrative. While the chivalric prowess of the hero underwrites the rhetorical arts of the romance, the musical and sewing talents of the heroine are at least as important. This article will demonstrate how, in the love story that the romance tells, the representation of the couple in love effects the analogy between the poet and the hero.

In the recent past, the literary representations of traumatic experience have aroused the interest of social and literary studies in Hungary. The short story cycle Forradalmi- és csataképek (Pictures of Revolution and Battle), written by Mór Jókai shortly after the close of the Hungarian War of Independence of 1848-49, is well suited for analyses in the context of trauma discourse, since its rhetorical code, narrative strategies, composition and genre are all oriented towards the representation of collective trauma. The short stories also stage the successive phases of grieving: the mapping of the trauma that befell both individuals and the communal spirit, facing the loss, and the release of grief. My reading of the short stories identifies the various detraumatizing poetical actions that are most obviously detectable in the mourning process featured by the text. Collective trauma is not a directly tangible psychic wound: the major endeavour of literary narratives representing collective traumatization is to point out the very existence of the wounds affecting the communal psyche, and to remedy them in some way. Literary texts can obtain this ability primarily by merging them with the discursive spaces of plot structures, generic models offered by the tradition, and potentially evoked intertexts. Thus, my intention with the interpretation of the meta-discourses of Jókai’s short story cycle is to demonstrate the frames and media of the literary representation of trauma and the work of mourning.

Introduction Many people’s knowledge of history is gleaned through popular culture. As a result there is likely a blurring of history with myth. This is one of the criticisms of historical romance novels, which blur historical details with fictional representations. As a result of this the genre is often dismissed from serious academic scholarship. The other reason for its disregard may be that it is largely seen as women’s fiction. As ‘women’s fiction’ it is largely relegated to that of ‘low culture’ and considered to have little literary value. Yet the romance genre remains popular and lucrative. Research by the Romance Writers of America in 2016 found that the genre represents 23% of the US fiction market and generates in excess of US$1 billion per year (Romance Writers of America). Since the onset of COVID-19, sales of romance novels in the US have soared, increasing by 17% between January and May 2020. The most popular genre was the historical romance genre. In total during that period, 16.2 million romance e-books were purchased by consumers (NPD). Yet despite its popularity, romance fiction remains stuck in the pulp fiction bubble. This article draws upon an international survey conducted in June 2020 by the authors. The study aimed to understand how readers of historical romance novels (n=813) engage with historical representations in popular culture, and how they navigate issues of authenticity. Consuming History through Popular Culture: “Historical Romance Novels Bring History to Life” Popular culture presents a tangible way in which audiences can engage with history and historical practices. “The spaces scholars have no idea about – the gaps between verifiable fact – are the territory for the writer of fictional history” (de Groot 217). Historical romance writer Georgette Heyer, for example, was influenced by her father’s conviction that “the historical novel was a worthy medium for learning about the past” (Kloester 102), and readers of historical romance often echo this view. One participant in this study considered the genre a way to “learn about history, the mores and customs, the food and clothing of that particular era … and how it contrasts to modern times”. For another participant, “most historical romances are set in countries other than my own. I like learning about these other countries and cultures”. The historical romance genre, in some instances, was not the reason for reading the novel: it was the historical setting. The romance itself was often incidental: “I am more interested in the history than the romance, but if the romance is done well … [then] the tensions of the romance illustrate and highlight historical divisions”. While a focus on history rather than romance, it posits that authors are including historically accurate details, and this is recognised by readers of the genre. In fact, one contributor to the survey argued that as a member of a writers’ group they were aware of that the “majority of the writers of that genre were voracious researchers, so much so that writers of other genres (male western writers for one) were going to them for information”. While fiction provides entertainment and relaxation, reading historical romance provides an avenue for accessing history without engaging it in a scholarly environment. Participants offered examples of this, saying “I like learning about the past and novels are an easy and relaxing way to do it” and “I enjoy historical facts but don’t necessarily need to read huge historical texts about Elizabeth Woodville when I can read The White Queen.” Social and political aspects of an era were gleaned from historical romance novels that may be less evident in historical texts. For one respondent, “I enjoy the description of the attire … behaviours … the social strata, politics, behaviours toward women and women who were ahead of their time”. Yet at the same time, historical fiction provides a way for readers to learn about historical events and places that spurred them to access more factual historical sources: “when I read a novel that involves actual historic happenings, it drives me to learn if the author is representing them correctly and to learn more about the topics”. For another, the historical romance “makes me want to do some more research”. Hence, historical fiction can provide new ways of seeing the past: “I enjoy seeing the similarities between people of the past and present. Hist[orical] Fic[tion] brings us hope that we can learn and survive our present.” A consciousness of how ancestors “survived and thrived” was evident among many participants. For one, history is best learned through the eyes of the people who lived through the era. School doesn’t teach history in a way that I can grasp, but putting myself into the shoes of the ordinary people who experienced, I have a better understanding of the time. Being able to access different perspectives on history and historical events and make an emotional connection with the past allowed readers to better understand the lived experiences of those from the past. This didn’t mean that readers were ignoring the fictional nature of the genre; rather, readers were clearly aware that the author was often taking liberties with history in order to advance the plot. Yet they still enjoyed the “glimpses of history that is included in the story”, adding that the “fictional details makes the history come alive”. The Past Represents a Different Society For some, historical romances presented a different society, and in some ways a nostalgia for the past. This from one participant: I like the attention to eloquence, to good speech, to manners, to responsibility toward each other, to close personal relationships, to value for education and history, to an older, more leisurely, more thoughtful way of life. A similar view was offered by another participant: “I like the language. I like the slowness, the courtship. I like the olden time social rules of honour and respect. I like worlds in which things like sword fights might occur”. For these respondents, there is a nostalgia where things were better then than now (Davis 18). Readers clearly identified with the different social and moral behaviours that they experienced in the novels they are reading, with one identifying more with the “historical morals, ethics, and way of life than I do modern ones”. Representations of a more respectful past were one aspect that appealed to readers: “people are civil to each other”, they are “generally kinder” and have a “more traditional moral code”. An aspect of escapism is also evident: “I enjoy leaving the present day for a while”. It is a past where readers find “time and manners [that are] now lost to us”. The genre reflects time that “seemed simpler” but “of course it helps if you are in the upper class”. Many historical romance novels are set within the social sphere of the elites of a society. And these readers’ views clearly indicate this: honestly, the characters are either wealthy or will be by the end, which releases from the day to day drudgeries and to the extent possible ensures an economic “happily ever after” as well as a romantic one … . I know the reality of even the elite wasn’t as lovely as portrayed in the books. But they are a charming and sometimes thrilling fantasy to escape inside … It is in the elite social setting that a view emerges in historical romance novels that “things are simpler and you don’t have today’s social issues to deal with”. No one period of history appears to reflect this narrative; rather, it is a theme across historical periods. The intrigue is in how the storyline develops to cope with social mores. “I enjoy reading about characters who wind their way around rules and the obstacles of their society … . Nothing in a historical romance can be fixed with a quick phone call”. The historical setting is actually an advantage because history places constrictions upon a plot: “no mobile phones, no internet, no fast cars. Many a plot would be over before it began if the hero and heroine had a phone”. Hence history and social mores “limit the access of characters and allow for interesting situations”. Yet another perspective is how readers draw parallels to the historic pasts they read about: “I love being swept away into a different era and being able to see how relevant some social issues are today”. There are however aspects that readers are less enamoured with, namely the lack of sex. While wholesome, particularly in the case of Christian authors, other characters are heroines who are virgins until after marriage, but even then may be virgins for “months or years after the wedding”. Similarly, “I deplore the class system and hate the inequalities of the past, yet I love stories where dukes and earls behave astonishingly well and marry interesting women and where all the nastiness is overcome”. The Problem with Authenticity The results of the international historical romance survey that forms the basis of this research indicate that most readers and writers alike were concerned with authenticity. Writers of historical romance novels often go to great lengths to ensure that their stories are imbued with historically accurate details. For readers, this “brings the characters and locales to life”. For readers, “characters can be fictional, but major events and ways of living should be authentic … dress, diet, dances, customs, historic characters”. Portraying historical accuracy is appreciated by readers: “I appreciate the time and effort the author takes to research subjects and people from a particular time period to make their work seem more authentic and believable”. Georgette Heyer, whose works were produced between 1921 and 1974, is considered as the doyenne of regency romance novels (Thurston 37), with a reputation for exacting historical research (Kloester 209). Heyer’s sway is such that 88 (10.8%) of the respondents to the romance survey cited her when asked who their favourite author is, with some also noting that she is a standard for other authors to aspire to. For one participant, I only read one writer of historical romance: Georgette Heyer. Why? Sublime writing skills, characterisation, delicious Wodehousian humour and impeccable accurate and research into the Regency period. Despite this prevailing view, “Heyer’s Regency is a selective one, and much of the broader history of the period is excluded from it” (Kloester 210). Heyer’s approach to history is coloured by the various approaches and developments to historiography that occurred throughout the period in which she was writing (Kloester 103). There is little evidence that she approached her sources with a critical eye and it appears that she often accepted her sources as historical fact (Kloester 112). Heyer’s works are devoid of information as to what is based in history and what was drawn from her imagination (Kloester 110). Despite the omissions above, Heyer has a reputation for undertaking meticulous research for her novels. This, however, is problematic in itself, as Alexandra Stirling argues: “in trying to recreate Regency patterns of speech by applying her knowledge of historical colloquialism, she essentially created her own dialect” that has come to “dominate the modern genre” (Stirling). Heyer is also highly criticised for both her racism (particularly anti-Semitism), which is reflected in her characterisation of Regency London as a society of “extreme whiteness”, which served to erase “the reality of Regency London as a cosmopolitan city with people of every skin colour and origin, including among the upper classes” (Duvezin-Caubet 249). Thus Heyer’s Regency London is arguably a fantasy world that has little grounding in truth, despite her passion for historical research. Historical romance author Felicia Grossman argues that this paradox occurs as “mixed in with [Heyer’s] research is a lot of pure fiction done to fit her personal political views” (Grossman), where she deliberately ignores historical facts that do not suit her narrative, such as the sociological implications of the slave trade and the very public debate about it that occurred during the regency. The legacy of these omissions can be found in contemporary romances set in that period. By focussing on, and intensifying, a narrow selection of historical facts, “the authentic is simultaneously inauthentic” (Hackett 38). For one participant, “I don’t really put much stock into “historical accuracy” as a concept, when I read a historical romance, I read it almost in the way that one would read a genre fantasy novel, where each book has its own rules and conventions”. Diversifying the Bubble The intertwining of history and narrative posits how readers separate fact from fiction. Historical romance novels have often been accused by both readers and critics of providing a skewed view on the past. In October 2019 the All about Romance blog asked its readers: “Does Historical Romance have a quality problem?”, leading to a strong debate with many contributors noting how limited the genre had developed, with the lack of diversity being a particular strain of discussion. Just a few weeks later, the peak industry body, the Romance Writers Association of America, became embroiled in a racism controversy. Cultural products such as romance novels are products of a wider white heteronormative paradigm which has been increasingly challenged by movements such as the LGBTQI+, Me Too, and Black Lives Matter, which have sought to address the evident racial imbalance. The lack of racial representation and racial equality in historical novels also provides an opportunity to consider contemporary ideals. Historical romance novels for one participant provided a lens through which to understand the “challenges for women and queers”. Being a genre that is dominated by both female writers and readers (the Romance Writers Association claims that 82% of readers are female), it is perhaps no surprise that many respondents were concerned with female issues. For one reader, the genre provides a way to “appreciate the freedom that women have today”. Yet it remains that the genre is fictional, allowing readers to fantasise about different social and racial circumstances: “I love the modern take on historical novels with fearless heroines living lives (they maybe couldn’t have) in a time period that intrigues me”. Including strong women and people of colour in the genre means those once excluded or marginalised are centralised, suggesting historical romance novels provide a way of fictionally going some way to re-addressing gender and racial imbalances. Coupled with romance’s guarantee of a happy ending, the reader is assured that the heroine has a positive outcome, and can “have it all”, surely a mantra that should appeal to feminists. “Historical romance offers not just escape, but a journey – emotional, physical or character change”; in this view, readers positively respond to a narrative in which plots engage with both the positive and negative sides of history. One participant put it this way: “I love history especially African American history. Even though our history is painful it is still ours and we loved just like we suffered”. Expanding the Bubble Bridgerton (2020–), the popular Netflix show based upon Julia Quinn’s bestselling historical romance series, challenges the whitewashing of history by presenting an alternative history. Choosing a colour-blind cast and an alternate reality where racism was dispelled when the King marries a woman of colour and bestowed honours on citizens of all colours, Bridgerton’s depiction of race has generally been met with positive reviews. The author of the series of books that Bridgerton is adapted from addressed this point: previously, I’ve gotten dinged by the historical accuracy police. So in some ways, I was fearful – if you do that, are you denying real things that happened? But you know what? This is already romantic fantasy, and I think it’s more important to show that as many people as possible deserve this type of happiness and dignity. So I think they made the absolutely right choice, bringing in all this inclusivity (Quinn cited in Flood). Despite the critics, and there have been some, Netflix claims that the show has placed “number one in 83 countries including the US, UK, Brazil, France, India and South Africa”, which they credited partly to audiences who “want to see themselves reflected on the screen” (Howe). There is no claim to accuracy, as Howe argues that the show’s “Regency reimagined isn’t meant to be history. It’s designed to be more lavish, sexier and funnier than the standard period drama”. As with the readers surveyed above, this is a knowing audience who are willing to embrace an alternate vision of the past. Yet there are aspects which need to remain, such as costume, class structure, technology, which serve to signify the past. As one participant remarked, “I love history. I love reading what is essentially a fantasy-realism setting. I read for escapism and it’s certainly that”. “The Dance of History and Fiction” What is evident in this discussion is what Griffiths calls the “dance of history and fiction”, where “history and fiction … are a tag team, sometimes taking turns, sometimes working in tandem, to deepen our understanding and extend our imagination” (Griffiths). He reminds us that “historians and novelists do not constitute inviolable, impermeable categories of writers. Some historians are also novelists and many novelists are also historians. Historians write fiction and novelists write history”. More so, “history doesn’t own truth, and fiction doesn’t own imagination”. Amongst other analysis of the intersections and juxtaposition of history and fiction, Griffiths provides one poignant discussion, that of Kate Grenville’s novel The Secret River (2006). According to the author's own Website, The Secret River caused controversy when it first appeared, and become a pawn in the “history wars” that continues to this day. How should a nation tell its foundation story, when that story involves the dispossession of other people? Is there a path between the “black armband” and the “white blindfold” versions of a history like ours? In response to the controversy Grenville made an interesting if confusing argument that she does not make a distinction between “story-telling history” and “the discipline of History”, and between “writing true stories” and “writing History” (Griffiths). The same may be said for romance novelists; however, it is in their pages that they are writing a history. The question is if it is an authentic history, and does that really matter? References Davis, Fred. Yearning for Yesterday: A Sociology of Nostalgia. Free Press, 1979. De Groot, Jerome. Consuming History Historians and Heritage in Contemporary Popular Culture. Florence Taylor and Francis, 2009. Duvezin-Caubet, Caroline. "Gaily Ever After: Neo-Victorian M/M Genre Romance for the Twenty-First Century." Neo-Victorian Studies 13.1 (2020). Flood, Alison. "Bridgerton Author Julia Quinn: 'I've Been Dinged by the Accuracy Police – but It's Fantasy!'." The Guardian 12 Jan. 2021. 15 Jan. 2021 <https://www.theguardian.com/books/2021/jan/12/bridgerton-author-julia-quinn-accuracy-fantasy-feisty-rakish-artistocrats-jane-austen>. Griffiths, Tom. "The Intriguing Dance of History and Fiction." TEXT 28 (2015). Grossman, Felicia. "Guest Post: Georgette Heyer Was an Antisemite and Her Work Is Not Foundational Historical Romance." Romance Daily News 2021 (2020). <https://romancedailynews.medium.com/guest-post-georgette-heyer-was-an-antisemite-and-her-work-is-not-foundational-historical-romance-fc00bfc7c26>. Hackett, Lisa J. "Curves & a-Lines: Why Contemporary Women Choose to Wear Nostalgic 1950s Style Clothing." Sociology. Doctor of Philosophy, University of New England, 2020. 320. Howe, Jinny. "'Bridgerton': How a Bold Bet Turned into Our Biggest Series Ever." Netflix, 27 Jan. 2021. <https://about.netflix.com/en/news/bridgerton-biggest-series-ever>. Kloester, Jennifer V. "Georgette Heyer: Writing the Regency: History in Fiction from Regency Buck to Lady of Quality 1935-1972." 2004. NPD. "Covid-19 Lockdown Gives Romance a Lift, the NPD Group Says." NPD Group, 2020. 2 Feb. 2021 <https://www.npd.com/wps/portal/npd/us/news/press-releases/2020/covid-19-lockdown-gives-romance-a-lift--the-npd-group-says/>. Romance Writers of America. "About the Romance Genre." 2016. 2 Feb. 2021 <https://www.rwa.org/Online/Romance_Genre/About_Romance_Genre.aspx>. Stirling, Alexandra. "Love in the Ton: Georgette Heyer's Legacy in Regency Romance World-Building." Nursing Clio. Ed. Jacqueline Antonovich. 13 Feb. 2020. <https://nursingclio.org/2020/02/13/love-in-the-ton-georgette-heyers-legacy-in-regency-romance-world-building/>. Thurston, Carol. The Romance Revolution : Erotic Novels for Women and the Quest for a New Sexual Identity. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1987.

While Young Adult dystopian texts commonly manipulate expectations of time and space, it is largely in a linear sense—projecting futuristic scenarios, shifting the contemporary reader into a speculative space sometimes only slightly removed from contemporary social, political, or environmental concerns (Booker 3; McDonough and Wagner 157). These concerns are projected into the future, having followed their natural trajectory and come to a dystopian present. Authors write words and worlds of warning in a postapocalyptic landscape, drawing from and confirming established dystopian tropes, and affirming the activist power of teenage protagonists in cultivating change. This article examines the intersections between dystopian Young Adult literature and Indigenous Futurisms, and the possibilities for sharing or encoding Indigenous Knowledge through the disruption or revision of genre, where the act itself become a movement of activism and survival echoed in text. Lynette James acknowledges the “ruptures” (157) Indigenous authors have made in the genre through incorporating Indigenous Knowledge into story as an embedded element – not only of narrative, but of structure. Ambelin Kwaymullina, of the Palyku people of the Pilbara region of Western Australia, exemplifies this approach in her disruption or rupture of the dystopian genre in her embodiment of Indigenous Knowledge in the Young Adult (YA) text The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf. Kwaymullina centres Indigenous Knowledge throughout the trilogy, offering a powerful revision of key tropes of the dystopian YA genre, creating a perspective that privileges Indigenous Knowledge. This is most significantly identified through her depiction of time as a non-linear concept, at once realised narratively, conceptually, and structurally in the text. The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf, the first of a trilogy of novels in “The Tribe” series, presents a futuristic post-apocalyptic world, set 300 years after the Reckoning, a cataclysmic environmental disaster. The protagonist, Ashala Wolf, is one of a number of people with supernatural abilities that are outlawed by their government and labelled Illegals. As the novel begins, Ashala is being interrogated by the villainous Neville Rose, held in a detention centre as she plots to escape, free her fellow detainees, and return to the Tribe in the Firstwood. The plot draws from historical and contemporary parallels in Australia, yet part of the text’s subversive power is that these parallels and connections are never made explicit on the page. The reader is invited to become an active participant in coding meaning by applying their own understandings of the context and connections, creating an inter-subjective dialogue between reader and text, and Indigenous and non-Indigenous knowing. This article looks to the first novel in the trilogy as the key exemplifier of the disruption of genre and knowledge through the representation of time. It is in this novel that these concepts are established and realised most clearly, being predominantly from Ashala’s perspective as a direct descendant of Indigenous Australians, with the following two novels divided between Ashala, Georgie, and Ember as polyphonic narrative focalisers. Acting as an introduction to the series, The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf presents a foundation for readers to challenge their perceptions on both genre and knowledge. Kwaymullina entangles the two, imbuing knowledge throughout narrative and structure which in turn disrupts genre. In her revisioning of narrative through genre and structural focus of time as a non-linear concept, Kwaymullina puts into practice Conrad Scott’s argument that “the potential healing of moments or processes of crisis in Indigenous dystopias is never possible without a strategic engagement with narrative itself, and even the formal aspects of the text” (73).While the series fits the conventions of the dystopian genre, it has been more commonly identified as speculative fiction, or Indigenous futurism, as Kwaymullina herself defines her work. James notes the significance of acknowledging a text as Indigenous futurism, writing, “identifying a work as Indigenous futurism rather than simply as YA dystopia asks readers, critics, and scholars to adjust their orientation in ways that may radically alter both their perception and reception of it” (153). For the purposes of this article, I acknowledge the clear value and importance of identifying the text as Indigenous futurism, but also find value in the movements that define the shift from dystopian literature to Indigenous futurism, in its engagement with and recasting of dystopian conventions in the text. In embedding Indigenous Knowledge in her worldbuilding and narrative, Kwaymullina actively rewrites dystopian expectations and tropes. These notions would be expected or normalised when grounded in Indigenous futurism, but are regarded as a subversion and revision when read in dystopian fiction. The text engages directly with the specific tropes and expectations of dystopian genre—its significance in rewriting the spaces, narratives, and structures of the genre cannot be overstated. The employment of the dystopian genre as both framework and space of revision speaks to larger debates of the value of dystopian fiction in examining socio-cultural issues over other genres such as realism. Critics argue the speculative nature of dystopian fiction that remains linked to concerns of the present and past allows audiences to envision and experience their own transformative experience, effecting political change (Kennon; Mallan; Basu, Broad, and Hintz; Sypnowich). Balaka Basu, Katherine Broad, and Carrie Hintz argue that serious issues presented in fantastic futuristic scenarios “may provide young people with an entry point into real-world problems, encouraging them to think about social and political issues in new ways, or even for the first time” (4-5). Kerry Mallan notes the “ability of dystopian fiction to open up to readers a dystopian social elsewhere serves a double function: On the one hand, it offers readers an opportunity to reflect on their current existence to compare the similarities and differences between the real and the fictional; on the other, these stories implicitly exhort young people to take responsibility for their own lives and the future of society” (16). Drawing on these metanarrative structures with the interweaving of Indigenous knowledge increases the active responsibility for the reader. It invokes Nnedi Okorafor’s labelling of Indigenous Futurisms as “the most truthful way of telling the truth” (279), creating opportunities for the Indigenous and non-Indigenous reader to engage with narratives of a real apocalypse on invaded land. The dystopian setting and expectations form a buffer between reader and text (Basu, Broad, and Hintz 4), making the narrative more accessible to the reader without shying away from the embedded trauma, while drawing on dystopian fiction’s balance of despair and optimism (Basu, Broad, and Hintz 2).The stakes and value of dystopian fiction are heightened when engaging with Indigenous narratives and knowledge; as Claire Coleman (a Noongar woman from the south coast of Western Australia) notes, Indigenous Australians live in a post-apocalyptic state as “all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people alive today are the descendants of people who survived an apocalypse” (n.p.). James, quoting Uppinder Mehan, concurs, writing “these narrators are ‘survivors—or the descendants of survivors’ [162], not just of broken dystopian worlds or post-cataclysmic events but of the real historical legacies of slavery, conquest, and oppression” (157). Writing on Indigenous futurisms in dystopian and utopian fiction, Mary Morrison argues “people outside Western hegemonic power structures would likely be well-placed to transform the utopian imagination, to decolonize it” (11), acknowledging the significance in the intersection of genre and lived experience by author and character.Kwaymullina expands on this, noting that for Indigenous authors the tropes of speculative fiction are familiar lived experiences. She writes thatmany of the ideas that populate speculative-fiction books – notions of time travel, astral projection, speaking the languages of animals or trees – are part of Indigenous cultures. One of the aspects of my own novels that is regularly interpreted as being pure fantasy, that of an ancient creation spirit who sung the world into being, is for me simply part of my reality. (“Edges” 27)Kwaymullina affirms Coleman and James in her approach, writing “Indigenous people lived through the end of the world, but we did not end. We survived by holding on to our cultures, our kin, and our sense of what was right in a world gone terribly wrong” (“Edges” 29). The Tribe series demonstrates survivance, with Kwaymullina’s approach forming possibilities for intersubjective dialogues across genre. The concept is reinforced through Ashala’s repeated, joyful cries of hope throughout the text: “I live! We live! We survive!” (197, 200, 279, 391).Sara K. Day, Miranda A. Green-Barteet, and Amy L. Montz note dystopian literature considers possible futures from the outlook and failures of the present (8), arguing “the label ‘dystopia’ typically applies to works that simultaneously imagine futures and consider the present, essentially occupying a liminal space between these times” (Day, Green-Barteet, and Montz 9). This sense of liminality is heightened with the engagement of time from an Indigenous perspective; as Scott writes, “Indigenous dystopian fiction presents not only the crisis of the future but the ongoing crisis of the present time, and that which is still resonant from the past” (73). In “Respect, Relationships, Renewal: Aboriginal Perspectives on the Worlds of Tomorrow”, Kwaymullina notes that linear time can “become a tool of ideology, with colonial characterisations of Indigenous peoples as being of an earlier (less ‘advanced’) time through the use of terms such as ‘primitive’, ‘prehistoric’ and ‘prehistory’” (“Respect” 126).In shifting to a dystopian world where Australia as a colonised or invaded country is no longer recognised, but Country is still alive and read by those who live on it, Kwaymullina recasts the use of linear time as a tool of ideology to reaffirm Coleman’s argument that Indigenous Australians already exist in a post-apocalyptic state. She draws from the past and present and casts it into the future, while simultaneously recognising that all three are linked and circular—events are repeating and being relived. Kwaymullina depicts numerous parallels between the dystopian world and a post-invasion Australia, populating her world with references to detention centres; othering and distinct labelling of a vilified minority deemed a threat or aberrant to the majority colonising community; the name and title of the series’ central villain Chief Administrator Neville Rose in a clear reference to A.O. Neville, WA Chief Protector of Aborigines.At the outset, the government uses labels to separate and denigrate the Other—individuals with Abilities are called Illegals, distinct from Citizens, although they can apply for Exemptions if their Ability is deemed useful and passive. The terminology of Exemption draws deliberate connections to the Exemption Certificate Indigenous Australians could apply for from the Aborigines Protection (Amendment) Act 1943. The text consistently operates in modes of survivance, as Ashala and the Tribe redefine their world through a distinctly Indigenous perspective (Murphy 179). Ashala gains power through the tool used to suppress her by claiming and embracing this status, identifying her friends and herself as the Tribe and choosing a forest name emblematic of the totems that each Tribe member has a particular connection to (e.g. Georgie Spider, Ember Crow, Ashala Wolf). Continual parallels are drawn to Indigenous Knowledge: Ashala’s Ability is Sleepwalking, where she enters a state in dreaming where she can alter reality, a liminal space that suggests connections to the Dreamtime. While the land is no longer called or recognised as Australia, and the tectonic plates have shifted land mass, it remains Country, as recognised in Ashala’s relationship with the Firstwood. The Balance, the inherent harmony between all life, animate and inanimate, is a clear reflection of an Indigenous understanding, positioning it as the mainstream ideology.Kwaymullina weaves Indigenous knowledge through the text as demonstrated through narrative, key thematic concepts, and structure, disrupting the tropes of dystopian fiction in a manner that subverts genre and presents new possibilities for both reader and writer while presenting a shift to Indigenous Futurisms. As an organic by-product of this ideological framework, regressive or gendered tropes are re-envisioned as feminist and ecologically centred, ultimately conveying a sense of hope and survivance. Key tropes of YA dystopian fiction include a female teenager protagonist oppressed by her government, often initially unknowingly so embedded is she in the system, potentially profiting from it in some way. She is often introduced to the reader in a setting that the character initially reads as utopian, but is revealed to be dystopian and authoritarian in its construction. As identified by Ann M.M. Childs, a common dynamic in the genre that reinforces gender roles in heterosexual relationships see the protagonist introduced to the concept of rebellion or dissent through a male love interest already embedded in a resistance movement, at the cost of losing or betraying a female friend (188). Childs notes the protagonist may be resistant to the idea of rebellion, but after falling for the love interest, grows to genuinely care for the cause. Technology is depicted as advanced, alien or dehumanising, and both belongs to and represents the repressive society the protagonist seeks to escape and change. The natural environment is depicted in binary opposition, with characters finding resilience, freedom, and personal agency in a return to nature (McDonough and Wagner 157). Society will have attempted to restrict, destroy, or otherwise mine the natural world, but this attempt for control will inevitably fail or backfire. Initially the environment is displayed as a potentially antagonistic element, wild and dangerous; however, after the character escapes their confining world, it becomes an ally. In her employment of a perspective framed by Indigenous Knowledge, Kwaymullina subverts each of these established tropes, offering an alternative reading of conventions often embedded in the genre. Ashala is introduced as already entrenched in a rebellion that she is both leader and pivotal figure of. Inverting the dynamic outlined by Childs, she is love interest Connor’s motivation for rejecting the government and joining the Tribe: “You are the reason I came here, Ashala Wolf” (Kwaymullina 263). Kwaymullina dismisses Childs’ concern over the removal of female friendship in favour of heterosexual romance by centering Ashala’s relationships with Georgie and Ember as fundamental to Ashala’s well-being, where sistahood is a key paradigm of hope: “I carry my friends with me” (Kwaymullina 39). For Ashala and the Tribe, nature as exemplified through the Firstwood is Country, not only sanctuary but an animate being that Ashala speaks with, asks permission to live within, and offers protection and apology for the harm down to it by humans in the past. The privileging of environment, and reading all animate or inanimate beings as living, extends to challenging the nature/technology dichotomy. Even the static or sterile environments of the detention centres are recognised for their connection to nature in their construction from recycled materials: “Nothing ever truly ends, only transforms” (Kwaymullina 141). In “Learning to Read the Signs: Law in an Indigenous Reality”, Ambelin Kwaymullina and Blaze Kwaymullina write thatsince everything must interconnect and interrelate to survive, if a pattern is fixed in time, it loses its ability to dynamically connect with other patterns. To be temporally fixed is therefore to be isolated; frozen. In an Indigenous worldview, it is, in fact, an impossibility – for that which cannot move, cannot interact, and that which cannot interact is inanimate. And there is nothing inanimate in country. (200)This can be read as representative of Kwaymullina’s rupture or revision of dystopian tropes and genre. When tropes are read as static or absolute, they run the risk of freezing or limiting the knowledge encoded in these stories. By integrating Indigenous Knowledge, new patterns can emerge and interact, extending to the reader’s own understanding of genre, time, and epistemology. Kwaymullina’s revisioning of dystopian tropes through an embedded and celebrated Indigenous perspective culminates in the successful thematic, narrative, and structural expression of time as a non-linear concept. Kwaymullina and Kwaymullina acknowledge the division between the reductionist and linear perspective of time through a Western worldview in comparison to the non-linear perception from that of an Indigenous Australian worldview. They acknowledge that their expression of time is not to be read as representative of all Indigenous Australians’ perspective of time, but one informed by their own Country and upbringing. Kwaymullina and Kwaymullina write,in an Aboriginal worldview, time—to the extent that it exists at all—is neither linear nor absolute. There are patterns and systems of energy that create and transform, from the ageing process of the human body to the growth and decay of the broader universe. But these processes are not ‘measured’ or even framed in a strictly temporal sense, and certainly not in a linear sense. (199)This is enacted through the narrative structure of The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf. The text is set across four days, yet spans years, shifting through narrative in a non-linear manner and reflecting the Indigenous understanding of time as a circular, evolving concept. These four days act as the containers for the text, as Kwaymullina distinguishes the departure from linear time for the uninitiated reader by including headings and subheadings in chapter titles, marked as “Day One”, “Day Two”, “Day Three”, and “Day Four”, before the final section, “The Escape”. Within these containers, themselves marked linearly, narrative ebbs and flows across time and space, taking Ashala away from the Detention Centre to different moments from her past, spanning years. These ‘flashbacks’ are not presented in a linear fashion; the text revisits and repeats key moments of Ashala’s life out of sequence, providing an immediate focus on these seemingly past moments. This is key in shaping the reader’s understanding of “the patterns and systems of energy that create and transform” (Kwaymullina and Kwaymullina 199)—as Ashala revisits or rediscovers memory through time, perceptions of character, motive, relationships, and key plot points are changed and transformed. Meaning is formed through this relationship of narrative and time in a manner not possible through a linear structure. Over the course of the novel, Ashala and the reader find she’s chosen to give herself false memories to protect the Tribe and complete a master plan to defeat Neville Rose. As such, as the novel begins the reader, aligned with Ashala as narrative focaliser, is positioned to read key points through a flawed perspective. Connor is presented as an enemy and betrayer of the Tribe, while Ashala denies her feelings towards him. The reader is aligned with Ashala’s perspective—she has already fallen in love with Connor, but neither she nor the reader knows it due to the displacement of knowledge through narrative structure and memory. This also speaks to identity formation in the text—Ashala is herself, and not herself until the novel reaches full circle, and she and the reader have experienced multiple points of time. As Ember explains, “it’s not about losing small pieces of information. This stuff shapes your entire understanding of reality” (Kwaymullina 167). If the reader revisits the text with this knowledge, they find further value in exploring the non-linear, circular narrative, finding subtext in characters’ interactions and decisions. The disruption in the non-linear narrative structure is twofold: to reflect the representation of time in an Indigenous epistemology, further rewriting the genre; and to create an intersubjective dialogue. As such, the narrative structure creates a space of invitation to the reader. Rather than positioning Ashala as embedded and aware of her status as a custodian of Indigenous knowledge, the text places her as ingrained in Indigenous epistemology, but unaware of it. In this way, the text effectively invites the reader in, mirroring Ashala’s journey of (re)discovery. The non-Indigenous reader enters the text alongside Ashala, with Indigenous knowledge embedded subtly throughout the text echoed in Kwaymullina’s engagement with dystopian tropes, and integrated Indigenous epistemology. By the time Ashala meets the Serpent, her Grandfather, and has her ancestry explained to her, the reader has already been immersed in Ashala’s own way of thinking, an inherently Indigenous one; for instance, throughout the text, she acknowledges the value and interconnectedness of all beings, human and non-human, animate and inanimate. The text leaves space for the reader to be active in their own construction of meaning and knowledge by never using the terms “Indigenous” or “Aboriginal”, themselves colonial inventions employed to control and label. Instead, the reader is encouraged to engage in the metatextual intersubjective dialogue introduced by Kwaymullina to acknowledge Indigenous epistemology—but by way of her approach, Kwaymullina further encourages the reader to “forget Aborigines” (Healy 219) by centring knowledge in its own right, rather than in direct opposition to Western epistemologies. That is, Kwaymullina disrupts Western perspectives framing of Indigenous knowledge as “other”, altering expectations of the norm as non-Indigenous. As Kwaymullina writes, to conceive of time in a non-linear way is at once a great gift and a great responsibility. The responsibility is that our individual actions matter powerfully, radiating out across relationships and affecting all that might be thought of in a linear sense as past, present and future. But the gift is that the passage of linear time has never moved us so far that we cannot take meaningful action to heal the wounds of colonialism. (“Respect” 126-127)In The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf, Kwaymullina realises this gift and responsibility. By framing structural, conceptual, and narrative time through an Indigenous epistemology, Kwaymullina privileges Indigenous Knowledge and effectively subverts and revises the genre through the rupture of dystopian conventions. Possibilities of hope and healing emerge in the text’s construction of time and genre as spaces of growth and change are emphasised; like Ashala, the reader finds themselves at the end and beginning of the world at once.ReferencesBasu, Balaka, Katherine R. Broad, and Carrie Hintz, eds. Contemporary Dystopian Fiction for Young Adults: Brave New Teenagers. New York: Routledge, 2013. Booker, M. Keith. Dystopian Literature: A Theory and Research Guide. Westport, CT: Greenwood P, 1994. Bradford, Clare, et al. New World Orders in Children’s Literature: Utopian Transformations. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011. Childs, Ann M.M. “The Incompatibility of Female Friendships and Rebellion.” Female Rebellion in Young Adult Dystopian Fiction. Eds. Sara K. Day et al. 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