Статті в журналах з теми "Female genealogies"

Based on 25 microsatellites, first order relatedness was established for three dyads of individuals contained in the Norwegian minke whale DNA-register. One large female minke whale was a member of all three dyads. Two competing genealogies were considered and under both of these the quartet contained siblings that with high probability must be half-siblings, as opposed to being full siblings.

In the 1930s and ‘40s, nightclub impresario Billy Rose cast Olympic swimmers and divers in starring roles for his patriotic World’s Fair revue. Positioning the Aquacade in the genealogies of mass spectacles, militaristic display, girly revues, and the rising popularity of pool culture reveals the theatrical framing of athletic labor as vigorously effective in creating a visible female collective on the eve of World War II.

This article analyses gendered genealogies in an example of North African Jewish women’s writing in French: Paule Darmon’s Baisse les yeux, Sarah (1980), which draws heavily on the author’s personal experience. This autofictional novel recounts the chequered personal history of autodiegetic narrator Sarah Lévy, born to an Algerian father and a Moroccan mother, and raised in Morocco until the age of 17 when her family leave for France. The articles focuses on a three-generational female genealogy of Moroccan-Jewish women, and its problematic relationship with the stereotypical Eastern model of woman. Sarah’s ambivalence towards her matrilineal heritage throws into relief the fault lines that can occur in lines of descent. Although allied with her mother in the latter’s partial rejection of female oppression, she is also sensitive to her mother’s always already subaltern and therefore undesirable status as doubly stigmatized object – female and Oriental – within the French colonial discourses internalized by her father.

Using a study on foundings of Silicon Valley law firms, I propose and test an organizational theory on the genealogical persistence of gender inequality that emphasizes the routines (or blueprints) and experiences that founders transfer from their parent firms to their new firms. This transfer links the parent firm's gender hierarchy to women's advancement opportunities in the new firm. Founders from parent firms that historically had women in leadership positions, such that female leadership is institutionalized, are more likely to found firms that promote women into prominent positions. Conversely, founders from firms that historically had women in subordinate positions, such that female subordination is institutionalized, are less likely to promote women into prominent positions. Findings are consistent with the theory and also show that the persistence effect is stronger for founders who were previously lower-ranked employees and for founders who institute an organization of work similar to their parent firm. The study suggests that future research should investigate routines and structures that not only generate gender inequality unintentionally but are in turn replicated across generations of organization through the mobility of employees.

Abstract This essay revisits the question of credit and debt in the celebrated 1952 film musical Singin’ in the Rain (dir. Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen, US) to show how white women's dancing bodies participate in the “talent relocations” that the movie both thematizes and suppresses. Specifically, it focuses on the relationship between Debbie Reynolds, who was a novice dancer when she was cast in the film, and the two other white women dancers who helped shape Reynolds's filmic body: assistant choreographer Carol Haney and dance-in Jeanne Coyne. Combining feminist and critical race perspectives with production studies, film studies, and dance and performance studies, the essay unites often disconnected gendered and racial analyses of the film by emphasizing the gendered forms of labor and the multiracial genealogies through which dance is reproduced. It also shows how the guise of white credibility enabled Reynolds to conceal her intercorporeal and multiracial debts. Finally, the essay argues that the presence of dancers of color in the film, most notably Rita Moreno, haunts the chains of white corporeal debt that bind Reynolds to Haney and Coyne.

This study introduces a comparative framework to understand patriarchal genealogies and technologies, with reference to an anthropological commentary concerning the broader forms of coloniality of power between dominant male and dominated female bodies in Greece, the Balkans, and the Caucasus. It argues that the patterns of patrilineality, practices and representations of male honor, and female exclusion from the native family are literally and symbolically feeding on the matrix of patriarchal coloniality in the regions. The analysis is based on representative ethnographic research and historical approaches. Patrilineal kin structures, customs of captivity (i.e., bride kidnapping, sworn virgins, and honor crimes), and generalized practices of young virgin exogamy seem responsible for women’s minor status in the social stratification. Traditional hierarchies and modern social inequalities seem to motivate dispositions and regulate behaviors for female, minor, subordinate, and dispossessed bodies, as well as dominant male protectors and patriarchs. The text adopts a postcolonial and decolonial black feminist critique. It argues that in a longue durée process, a palimpsest pattern of patriarchy emerges, made upon the habitus of gendered ideology. Shaped by patriarchalism, paternalism, and patronage, patriarchy motivates a generalized pattern of coloniality within post-Ottoman geographies, thus regulating multiple material and symbolic inequalities, and even multiplying antagonistic hierarchies among family units, communities, central nation/state, periphery, and borders.

Resum: Aquest treball proposa una aproximació sistematitzada al conjunt de les escriptoresque van nèixer abans de la Guerra Civil però que van escriure tota o part de la seua obra sotael franquisme. Es divideix en tres apartats: en primer lloc, s’ofereix una panoràmica generala la producció en català de les escriptores de tot el domini lingüístic durant la dictadura. Ensegon lloc, s’observen les circumstàncies específiques de les escriptores valencianes s’analitzal’aportació que van fer Anna Rebeca Mezquita Almer, Maria Ibars i Ibars, Matilde Llòria,Beatriu Civera (Valence 1914-1995), Sofia Salvador, Maria Beneyto i Cuñat, CarmelinaSánchez-Cutillas i Maria Mulet. En tercer lloc, es comentarà la seua obra, tant publicadacom inèdita per tal de valorar l’impacte que han tingut fins a l’actualitat. Paraules clau: literatura catalana del segle XX, escriptores, País Valencià, genealogies femenines,dictadura, exili, feminisme. Abstract: This work proposes a systematic approach to all the writers who were bornbefore the Civil War but who wrote all or part of their work under the Franco regime. It isdivided into three sections: firstly, it offers a general overview of women writers from all theCatalan speaking territories who produced their work in Catalan language during the dictatorship.Secondly, it looks at the specific circumstances of the Valencian writers and analysesthe contribution made by Anna Rebeca Mezquita Almer, Maria Ibars i Ibars, Matilde Llòria,Beatriu Civera, Sofia Salvador, Maria Beneyto and Cuñat, Carmelina Sánchez- Cutillas andMaria Mulet. Thirdly, both their published and unpublished works will be discussed to assessthe impact they have had up to present days. Keywords: Contemporary Catalan literature, 20th century, Valencian Country, WomenWriters, Female Genealogies, identity, exile.

AbstractThis paper examines a fundamental premise of Anglo-Hindu law on succession between 1860 and 1940, that kinship was emblematic of secular modes of living, to analyse its implications for the assertion of masculinity within ascetic orders in northern India. Legal discourses engaged with rights to succession within ascetic orders, by functioning on the assumption that the renunciatory life of ascetics was antithetical to sexuality and domesticity. This institutionalization of law, that defined asceticism and fixed ascetic masculinities within a legal frame, occurred with the consent of ascetic orders concerned with the ownership and distribution of property, even though sexuality and gender played a central role in shaping relationships within sacred spaces. Myriad ties embracing the language of kinship shaped ascetic orders. Bonds of sentiment and sexual attachment over-lapped with, sustained, and produced the bonds tying spiritual preceptors to their disciples. Relationships within ascetic families, consisting of men, their female companions, children and relatives, along with their attendant obligations were validated through rights of ownership and inheritance to property. Taking advantage of Anglo-Hindu law by the early twentieth century, ascetic orders sought to ‘purify’ their genealogies through the medium of property disputes fought in colonial courts. By manipulating the legal meanings ascribed to asceticism, masculinity and renunciation, these orders effaced unwanted members from their orders with varying degrees of success, especially women and children.

Abstract In this article, I compare two female-only feminist groups from the Soviet Union and Russia: one of them, the Leningrad feminists, were active in the Soviet Union in the late 1970’s and the other, Pussy Riot, appeared in the 2010’s. By placing Pussy Riot in the (post-)Soviet context and comparing them with the Leningrad feminists, I arrive at a novel reading of both. The similarities between both their structures and messaging are striking: both groups initially split off from larger, male-dominated dissident collectives; both faced challenges as mothers; and both groups appealed to the Virgin Mary as their guardian. These similarities are often obscured in readings that compare Pussy Riot with the Russian male actionists or Western riot grrrl feminists. By forging a different genealogy and comparing these two constellations of women, this article highlights both activist potentials and feminist genealogies in the (post-) Soviet space that have remained largely invisible.

AbstractHow does the publication of Confessions of the Flesh impact feminist critique of Foucault's History of Sexuality project? The paper addresses this question in two ways: by asking how reflection on continuities and ruptures has, and can, be productive for feminist critique; and by revisiting the role of women in all four volumes. The terms of their inclusion have been considered an omission, particularly because the project omits same‐sex eros between women. Where women appear, they are framed as spouses, or as subordinated to some form of authority. And yet, insofar as the project contains more than one genealogical dimension, Foucault's “marriages” also belong to proximate plurigenealogies. In Confession's focus on the conditions for a juridical and divided self's subjectivation by will and desire, even the limited parameters within which women appear in the project incite the following question. What are the implications of Confessions of the Flesh's juridical self for genealogies of female subjectivation?

AbstractThe book of Ruth is written from a female perspective, which in 4:9-17 is deliberately contrasted with a male perspective. The inter-textual contrast between the gynocentricity of Ruth and the androcentricity of most narrative literature in the Hebrew Bible is recognized within the text of Ruth by the appending of the genealogy in 4:18-22. Here the male voice of compilers of traditional patrilineal genealogies replaces the female voice of the story. Though the story and the genealogy purport to recount the same history, the women's world of the story is completely ignored by the genealogy. This contrast characterizes Ruth as the kind of history which official, masculine Israelite history leaves out. Thus the conclusion of the book, which functions to give it a canonical setting in the larger biblical story, also gives it the specific canonical function of exposing the androcentricity of other biblical narratives. The book's revelation of the women's world which other narratives render invisible can therefore function canonically, not merely as an exception to the prevalent androcentricity of biblical literature, but also representatively, authorizing the reader to supply the female perspectives which are elsewhere omitted. This study of Ruth, it is suggested, offers an example of a feminist canonical hermeneutic which would also explore the specific ways in which other gynocentric texts within the canon (such as those parts of the Gospels which adopt the perspective of their female characters) can function canonically. Allowing these gynocentric texts a canonical role of relativizing the androcentric texts makes possible a feminist hermeneutic which can take the canon seriously as a body of literature normative for faith and practice.

Leptonycteris yerbabuenae, the lesser long-nosed bat is an abundant migratory nectar-feeding bat found in most of Mexico, and in some areas of northern Central America and small sections of southwestern USA. We analyzed the distribution of the maternal and paternal lineages of this species with phylogeographic methods based on two mitochondrial markers, Cyt-b and D-loop, and a marker located in the Y chromosome, DBY. We obtained tissue samples from 220 individuals from 23 localities. Levels of genetic diversity (haplotype diversity, Hd) were high (Cyt-b = 0.757; D-loop = 0.8082; DBY = 0.9137). No clear patterns of population genetic structure were found for mitochondrial markers, while male genetic differentiation suggested the presence of two lineages: one from Mexican Pacific coast states and another from central-southern Mexico; in accordance to strong male philopatry and higher female migration. We used genealogical reconstructions based on Bayesian tools to calculate divergence times, and to test coalescent models to explain changes in L. yerbabuenae historical demography. Our results show that recent demographic changes were consistent with global climatic changes (∼130,000 kyr ago for Cyt-b and ∼160,000 kyr for D-loop) and divergence times dated from molecular genealogies exhibited older divergence times, Cyt-b (4.03 mya), D-loop (10.26 mya) and DBY (12.23 mya). Accordingly, the female lineage underwent demographic expansion associated to Pleistocene climate change, whereas the male lineage remained constant.

This article explores the issue of women's representational genealogies through an analysis of Andrea Arnold's 2011 Wuthering Heights. Beginning with 1970s feminist arguments for a specifically female literary tradition, it argues that running through both these early attempts to construct an alternative female literary tradition and later work in feminist philosophy, cultural geography and film history is a concern with questions of ‘alternative landscapes’: of how to represent, and how to encounter, space differently. Adopting Mary Jacobus' notion of intertextual ‘correspondence’ between women's texts, and taking Arnold's film as its case study, it seeks to trace some of the intertextual movements – the reframings, deframings and spatial reorderings – that link Andrea Arnold's film to Emily Brontë’s original novel. Focusing on two elements of her treatment of landscape – her use of ‘unframed’ landscape and her focus on visceral textural detail – it points to correspondences in other women's writing, photography and film-making. It argues that these intensely tactile close-up sequences which puncture an apparently realist narrative constitute an insistent presence beneath, or within, the ordered framing which is our more usual mode of viewing landscape. As the novel Wuthering Heights is unmade in Arnold's adaptation and its framings ruptured, it is through this disturbance of hierarchies of time, space and landscape that we can trace the correspondences of an alternative genealogy.

When feminists interrogate the symbolic realm of religion, they often expose much of theological discourse as an idealized projection of a masculine subjectivity. In response to androcentric theological discourse, some feminists’ approaches have reframed religion in support of feminine subjectivity. For example, Luce Irigaray experienced an important, constructive turn to religion in her writings in the 1980s and 1990s following her early criticism of phallogocentric Western philosophy. She argued provocatively:Monotheistic religions speak to us of God the Father and God made man; nothing is said of a God the Mother or of God made Woman, or even of God as a couple or couples. Not all the transcendental fancies, or ecstasies of every type, not all the quibbling over maternity and the neutrality (neuterness) of God, can succeed in erasing this one reality that determines identities, rights, symbols, and discourse.Elsewhere, she contends: “as long as woman lacks a divine made in her image she cannot establish her subjectivity or achieve a goal of her own. She lacks an ideal that would be her goal or path in becoming.” For Irigaray, “to become divine” means to become a subject, as opposed to being a term that defines the other. Fertility, motherhood, and female genealogies are central to Irigaray's divine woman as a way to establish female subjectivity.

Dame Judi Dench’s twenty-first-century theatrical career has defied the expectation that her performance as the Countess in the Royal Shakespeare Company’s 2003 All’s Well That Ends Well would signal the culmination and conclusion of her stage acting career. This article draws on scholarship on the use of retrospection and persona-building to redirect attention from Dench’s conspicuously ‘late’ success in film to map how Dench has led, collaborated in and resisted public constructions of her persona. Shakespeare has been consistently key to this process. While enlisting persona-building strategies inherited from her Shakespearean forebears, Dench has resisted the overt appointment of any kind of Shakespearean ‘successor’ and thus the continuation of Shakespeare performance genealogies. Simultaneously, her role choices have contributed to her persona’s accrued significance as an avatar of moral virtue and authenticity – augmented by her association with the ‘national poet’, Shakespeare, as England’s most prestigious playwright. The article also examines Dench’s persona specifically as an ageing actress, and her significance for discourses of aspirational ageing, ageism, and national investments in the ageing female performer as a public persona.

Regarded as a real research direction concerning the history of medieval and pre-modern Moldavian history, research on family burials and necropolises has already brought numerous additions and corrections to the genealogies of the ancient families, as well as to their mentalities and privileges. Through a succession of burials of related individuals, the graves became necropolises of the lineage, which were true expressions of family solidarity and genealogical awareness. With the present study, which in fact represents an unprecedented inventory of the tombs of the Moldavian Cantacuzins of the 17th-19th centuries, we have sought to identify the reasons for the choice of certain burial places, as well as the way in which the representatives of this extremely diverse family (Deleanu, Paşcanu, Şerbeşti, Băleni), became aware of the symbolic dimension of this aspect of everyday life. So far, in the above-mentioned time frame, we have identified more than 100 Cantacuzine burials, both male and female, made in churches and monastic sites in Moldova, but also in various places in Transylvania, Russia, Germany or Greece.

The human body has been theorized in many ways, including the entire notion of the woman as a human creation. It is generally agreed that this concept refers to our perceptions, thoughts, and feelings about our bodies, which influence our behaviour about our bodies. The article examines numerous authors whose individual genealogies meet on the common ground of identity theory and women's lives and is supported by a theoretical framework based on conceptions of identity, body-image and self-image in women and feminist discourse. This paper probes into the concepts of identity in women through the literary canvas of Dr. Bhabendra Nath Saikia and demonstrates the effects of body image and self-image on the development of identity. Of course, an extensive discussion of the short stories of Dr. Saikia is beyond the scope of this paper. The aim of this paper is to analyse the concepts through the two short stories short titled "Dhura Xaap" (ঢোৰা সাপ 1958) and "Sringkhol" (শৃংখল, 1970) by Dr, Bhabendra Nath Saikia. The paper seeks to explore the concepts of self-image, identity and body image through three female characters ‘Chandrika’, ‘Janeki’ and ‘Ambika’.

The article presents an exploration into the history of Russian philosophy with the help of the genealogical approach, which, on the one hand, allows to take a fresh look at the texts of women philosophers and to approach them from new angles, and, on the other hand, actualizes the idea of alternative memory, an alternative history of philosophy, returning female thinkers to the field of historical research and finding a place for their ideas and theoretical achievements. The discourse-methodological analysis underlying genealogy allows to study utterances from the point of view of its social production, which leads to the problems of power and knowledge and shows that the latter is created not only through the discourse of affirmation, but also through that of exclusion. Consequently, it is not only necessary to deconstruct the dominant historical and philosophical discourse, but also to examine what this discourse excludes, and feminist genealogies set themselves such a task. This has led to a change in the status of philosophy itself, which can no longer be “high theorizing” about abstract principles, but becomes the practice of the political. This approach, applied to the analysis of the texts of the Russian thinker M.V. Bezobrazova, paints a clear picture of both the general philosophical significance of her ideas and the political meaning of the problems under study, and allows to trace the movement of thought from philosophy to politics. Of particular importance is the conclusion that the feminist analysis of the texts of women philosophers serves, first of all, to establish intergenerational dialogue and the manifestation of female solidarity.

We report on the cytogenetic and DNA analysis of 55 families with the fragile X (FMR-1 locus) mutation (318 individuals and 15 chorionic villi samples). A total of 129 males were investigated, 54 mentally normal and 75 presenting mental retardation. Among the 54 normal males, 11 had the premutation, and none expressed the fragile site. The full mutation was detected in 73 retarded males, and 14 (18%) presented a premutation along with the full mutation (mosaics). All of them manifested the fragile site. The frequencies of fragile site expression correlated positively with the sizes of the expansion of the CGG repeats (<FONT FACE="Symbol">D</FONT>). Among 153 normal females, 85 were found to be heterozygous for the premutation and 15 had the full mutation. In the premutated females the fragile site was not observed or it occurred at frequencies that did not differ from those observed in 53 noncarriers. Cytogenetic analysis was thus ineffective for the diagnosis of premutated males or females. Among the 51 heterozygotes for the full mutation, 36 (70%) had some degree of mental impairment. As in males, a positive correlation was detected between the frequencies of fragile site manifestation and the size of the expansion. However, the cytogenetic test was less effective for the detection of fully mutated females, than in the case of males, since 14% false negative results were found among females. Segregation analysis confirmed that the risk of mental retardation in the offspring of heterozygotes increases with the length of <FONT FACE="Symbol">D</FONT>. The average observed frequency of mental retardation in the offspring of all heterozygotes was 30%. There was no indication of meiotic drive occurring in female carriers, since the number of individuals who inherited the mutation did not differ from the number of those inheriting the normal allele. No new mutations were detected in the 55 genealogies studied here.

The terms “desi” and “butch” are difficult to define separately but open up new possibilities for thinking sexuality and borders when located next to each other on the page. “Desi” can mean people from South Asia, and gestures toward land as home. “Butch” can mean queer masculinity, female masculinity, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual women’s subcultures. This article uses autoethnography to experiment with desi and butch next to one another to think about what desi queer and trans masculine genealogies and experiences might tell us about transnational logics of sexuality, space, home, and body. The article thinks through desi, butch, and desi butch as potential analytics of sexuality, movement, masculinity, intimacy, and desire, and attends to the work of the risks and costs of these shared terms. What does desi butch do to spatial modes of intimacy, alienation, care, fragmentation, and genealogy, in multiple vocabularies of land and home? The author asks after the complicated affects, temporalities, and desires signaled by desi butch as a category that troubles and has trouble with heteronormative border regimes and futurities across geohistories of North America and South Asia. This includes questions of translation, embodiment, and citizenship. Attending to their own desires, orientations, and experiences, the author asks what forms, spaces, and practices of care and collectivity are made possible through desi butch as negotiations of borders, and experiences of melancholy and alienation produced by different lines.

Population history reconstruction, using extant genetic diversity data, routinely relies on simple demographic models to project the past through ascending genealogical-tree branches. Because genealogy and genetics are intimately related, we traced descending genealogies of the Québec founders to pursue their fate and to assess their contribution to the present-day population. Focusing on the female and male founder lines, we observed important sex-biased immigration in the early colony years and documented a remarkable impact of these early immigrants on the genetic make-up of 20th-century Québec. We estimated the immigrants’ survival ratio as a proportion of lineages found in the 1931–60 Québec to their number introduced within the immigration period. We assessed the effective family size, EFS, of all immigrant parents and their Québec-born descendants. The survival ratio of the earliest immigrants was the highest and declined over centuries in association with the immigrants’ EFS. Parents with high EFS left plentiful married descendants, putting EFS as the most important variable determining the parental demographic success throughout time for generations ahead. EFS of immigrant founders appears to predict their long-term demographic and, consequently, their genetic outcome. Genealogically inferred immigrants’ "autosomal" genetic contribution to 1931–60 Québec from consecutive immigration periods follow the same yearly pattern as the corresponding maternal and paternal lines. Québec genealogical data offer much broader information on the ancestral diversity distribution than genetic scrutiny of a limited population sample. Genealogically inferred population history could assist studies of evolutionary factors shaping population structure and provide tools to target specific health interventions.

The features of historical marriage patterns have been linked to debates in social and economic history about economic growth and female agency. However, there is a lack of empirical evidence on the demographics of marriage prior to the nineteenth century. Here, we study trends in sex-specific ages at first marriage, regional variation and the impact of migration on marital timing in the Netherlands in the period 1650-1900. We make use of two new large historical datasets, namely an aggregation of Dutch genealogies and the transcribed marriage banns of Amsterdam. This allows us to understand the features and developments of marriage ages from a long-term perspective in what is known as one of the core-areas of the so-called European Marriage Pattern. Our results show high marriage ages for both sexes from the beginning of our study period, increasing until the mid-19th century. A closer look at regional variation reveals clear differences between the provinces and between urban and rural settings with those in the western part of the country and in urban centers marrying earlier. Migrating individuals married on average later than non-migrating individuals both compared to men and women in the receiving community, as to the ‘stayers’ in the location of origin. As later marriage implies a reduction of the window of fertility, especially for women, our results suggest that migration and increasing regional mobility might have been an important driver of the demographic shift toward higher marriage ages and lower fertility in Europe between the 17th and 19th centuries.

Both mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA) and the Y chromosome have been used extensively by molecular paleoanthropologists in attempts to reconstruct human lineages. Both are inherited in a haploid manner: mtDNA through the female and the Y through the male. For mtDNA, maternal inheritance is ensured by a species-specific mechanism of proteolysis of the sperm midpiece in early embryogenesis, based on ubiquitination of the mitochondria during spermiogenesis. Both genomes are thought to lack recombination and are thus liable to high rates of neutral mutation. For the human Y chromosome, it is now clear that there has been selection on genes controlling spermatogenesis, resulting in differential long-term reproductive success. This is corroborated from studies of genealogies and hunting–gathering societies, although these lack the rigour provided by the modern molecular markers of inheritance. Selection is made more complicated by a concentration of genes controlling secondary sexual characteristics on the X chromosome. Likewise, mtDNA affects the bioenergetics of gametogenesis and embryo development, as well as longevity, disease and the aging process. Both Y chromosome and mitochondrial haplotypes show significant associations with patterns of male infertility that could distort their use for phylogenetic reconstruction. Moreover, the molecular analysis of mtDNA is complicated by the presence of numerous nuclear mitochondrial pseudogenes (Numts) that can be erroneously amplified by molecular techniques such as PCR. This review examines some of these complex interactions and suggests that some of the more contentious issues in understanding human evolution may be resolved by considering the biology of these genetic markers.

Sonok cattle are a culture that still exists on the island of Madura, this culture competes for a pair of female cows to walk with a compact step. Sonok cattle breeders are spread over four districts. The problems faced by Sonok cattle breeders in Waru Barat Village are related to genealogies and profiles that have never been documented, this causes detailed information related to pedigrees and profiles to be unclear. In addition, the marketing process is still carried out with limited media so that a lot of information is not conveyed, such as genealogical details and profiles. One of the villages that is a partner and the majority of its residents are sonok cattle breeders is Waru Barat Village, Waru District, Pamekasan Regency. The service method is a survey that takes samples from a certain time from a population and uses basic data interview techniques. After that, a trial was carried out and some analysis of the application of pedigree, profile, and market applications on Sonok cattle activists, it can be seen that sonok cattle culture activists are greatly facilitated by all the features in the application, pedigree and profile data can be seen through the application so that during sales transactions they can be assured. buyer. From the results of the calculation of the System Usability Scale (SUS) questionnaire filled in by the sonok cow culture activists, the average value is 82. The age of the breeder is 51-60 years (40%) with livestock experience 21-30 years (30%) and the number of maintenance is 2 tail (40%) and ST level 2.25-3 (60%). The results of the analysis show a very good assessment of SUS for Sonok cattle breeders

In the last 15-20 years, the character of genealogical research has transformed gradually. Thus, genealogy is changing into a modern academic discipline. The modern genealogy is supported by digitization of public and genealogical records. At the same time, the new technologies are affecting the development of home-based genealogical research services. The goal of this paper is to offer more ways of encouraging entrepreneurship for genealogists, including the role of the education system and research skills that are especially critical in the field of genealogy and in genealogists' success in their business

We have been studying the migrations of the descendants of nine men who came to Massachusetts before 1650 and have compiled a computerized database that includes all the people born before 1860 in the patrilines. Thus we have what the nine genealogists who studied these families thought was close to a complete list of family members alive in 1850. Here we focus on our attempts to find these individuals on the 1850 federal census.To facilitate our task, we made up a search list that contained all males alive in 1850, but we omitted females known to have married by 1850. The search list included both the last known place in each individual’s record before 1850 and the next known place after 1850. The list was deliberately over-inclusive. In the 30% or so of the cases in which we did not have death dates for individuals, we carried them on the list until they were 100 years old. Again, the census is supposed to have been taken as of 1 June, but we included anyone who was born or died in 1850, whether it was before or after that date. All told, we searched for 7,627 individuals, about two-thirds men and one-third unmarried women.

Created Ukrainian Red-and-White Dairy and Ukrainian Black-and-White Dairy cattle have a desirable level of reproductive and productive qualities. These breeds are competing successfully with animals of the European selection, so comparative study of pedigree and productive qualities of animals at one of the farms has practical value. The studies were conducted in the herd of “Oleksandrivske” SE RF at the animals of Ukrainian Red-and-White Dairy and Ukrainian Black-and-White Dairy breeds of Vinnytsia region. The animals of both breeds were kept under the same technological conditions in housing for livestock. It was taken into account milk production (milk yield, fat content in milk and milk fat) for 305 days of lactation. Expert evaluation of the exterior of first-calf heifers has been conducted for 2015-2016. Assessment of type of body structure of cows was conducted on 100-point scale. Fatness of cows was determined on 5-point scale. The analysis of genealogies of 37 bulls which had progeny in the herd was conducted by breeding index, discharge of breeding values and milk production of ancestors. Milk production of the animals of the herd was more than 6000 kg of milk for 305 days of lactation. Comparing milk yields, it was found that the animals of Ukrainian Black-and-White Dairy breed dominated Ukrainian Red-and-White Dairy cows of the same age. It is noteworthy that biological feature of cows to increasing milk yield with each subsequent lactation is positive. Thus, the Ukrainian Black-and-White Dairy cows after the second calving in comparison with the first calving increased milk yield by 380 kg and the animals after the third calving and older comparatively with the second one – by 425 kg more. Also the Ukrainian Red-and-White Dairy cows increased milk yield, respectively, by 348 and 358 kg. The average body measurements of the first-calf heifers were inferior by targeted parameters of Ukrainian Red-and-White Dairy and Ukrainian Black-and-White Dairy cattle from -0.3 cm (girth of metacarpus) to -7.8cm (height in the sacrum) in most cases. The total number of points for type of body structure was 87.9 at the animals of Ukrainian Black-and-White Dairy cattle and, respectively, 87.0 at the Ukrainian Red-and-White Dairy cows; it corresponds to the assessment "very good". This indicates the high estimation of individual parts of the exterior. The cows of the herd had the required fatness. The average of this trait at animals of Ukrainian Black-and-White Dairy breed was 3.0 points and at the cows of Ukrainian Red-and-White Dairy cattle was respectively 3.4 points. The genealogical structure of the current herd of “Oleksandrivske” SERF consists of two female contingents. The animals of Ukrainian Black-and-White Dairy cattle were derived from 18 bulls belonging to 8 bloodlines. Most of animals belong to R.O.R.Elevation 1491007 bloodline – 45.4%, H.H.Starbuck 352790 and P.F.A.Chief 1427381 bloodlines – 14.4%. Qualitative characteristic of bulls used for the female livestock of the herd, shows that in the vast majority they are valuable breeding bulls. However, it should be noted that there are progeny derived from bulls with low breeding value in the herd. Thus, bull Matrix Red 136549448 had SI-7 and H- and Trubadur 343643346 had SI-50 and H-. The use of bulls for female livestock of the herd with low breeding value is unacceptable for further breeding work. Expectation of improving the breeding traits in progeny from such fathers is unlikely. It is planned to accelerate the reproduction of valuable genotypes and increase the rate of genetic progress at the herd using embryos transplantation this year. Donors of embryos will be their own breeding resources. Using this method will make it possible to exclude from the selection process animals with exterior defects and low-yielding cows. The considered aspects of selective breeding work indicate prospects of using Ukrainian Red-and-White Dairy and Ukrainian Black-and-White Dairy cattle. This applies particularly to increase of milk yield to 8000 kg and more per lactation. Bulls which will be used for breeding stock should have high rates of breeding values (SI +1000 and P4 and more). Especially it applies such features as fat content in milk and some exterior defects.

In theAllonemobius sociuscomplex of crickets, reproductive isolation is primarily accomplished via postmating prezygotic barriers. We tested seven protein-coding genes expressed in the male ejaculate for patterns of evolution consistent with a putative role as postmating prezygotic isolation genes.Our recently diverged species generally lacked sequence variation. As a result,ω-based tests were only mildly successful. Some of our genes showed evidence of elevatedωvalues on the internal branches of gene trees. In a couple genes these internal branches coincided with both species branching events of the species tree, betweenA. fasciatusand the other two species, and betweenA. sociusandA. sp. nov.Tex. In comparison, more successful approaches were those that took advantage of the varying degrees of lineage sorting and allele sharing among our young species. These approaches were particularly powerful within the contact zone. Among the genes we tested we found genes with genealogies that indicated relatively advanced degrees of lineage sorting across both allopatric and contact zone alleles. Within a contact zone between two members of the species complex, only a subset of genes maintained allelic segregation despite evidence of ongoing gene flow in other genes. The overlap in these analyses wasarginine kinase(AK) andapolipoprotein A-1 binding protein(APBP). These genes represent two of the first examples of sperm maturation, capacitation, and motility proteins with fixed non-synonymous substitutions between species-specific alleles that may lead to postmating prezygotic isolation. Both genes express ejaculate proteins transferred to females during copulation and were previously identified through comparative proteomics. We discuss the potential function of these genes in the context of the specific postmating prezygotic isolation phenotype among our species, namely conspecific sperm precedence and the superior ability of conspecific males to induce oviposition in females.

Recent evidence suggests that seeking out extra-pair paternity (EPP) can be a viable alternative reproductive strategy for both males and females in many pair-bonded species, including humans. Accurate data on EPP rates in humans, however, are scant and mostly restricted to extant populations. Here, we provide the first large-scale, unbiased genetic study of historical EPP rates in a Western European human population based on combining Y-chromosomal data to infer genetic patrilineages with genealogical and surname data, which reflect known historical presumed paternity. Using two independent methods, we estimate that over the last few centuries, EPP rates in Flanders (Belgium) were only around 1–2% per generation. This figure is substantially lower than the 8–30% per generation reported in some behavioural studies on historical EPP rates, but comparable with the rates reported by other genetic studies of contemporary Western European populations. These results suggest that human EPP rates have not changed substantially during the last 400 years in Flanders and imply that legal genealogies rarely differ from the biological ones. This result has significant implications for a diverse set of fields, including human population genetics, historical demography, forensic science and human sociobiology.

While there are Muslims who hold that the two identities Muslim and homosexual are mutually exclusive and that it is illegal to practise homosexual acts, the ongoing Muslim revisionist movement seems to provide a more understanding approach. Members of this movement argue that although the act of homosexuality is mentioned in the Qur’ān, this term is not inherently similar to the contemporary understanding of homosexuality based on love (mawaddah) and mutual consent. This paper provides a comprehensive understanding of theological, historical and sociological discourses to demonstrate some of the challenges facing contemporary sexual ethics in relation to Muslim homosexuality and its relationship to power (religious, patriarchal and neo-colonialist). It argues that conservative and centrist scholars have always presented homosexuality based on cis-hetero morality standards, but not from a deep understanding of the Qur’ān and the Hadith. It also argues that from a conservative view, homosexuality has never been addressed from either a medical/psychological (essentialism) or a social constructivist perspective, thereby further denying the existence of men who are not attracted to females as explained in the Qur’ān (24:31). On a historical level, this paper offers a discussion of legal, social and political genealogies of the history of same-sex attraction among Muslims by addressing relevant questions related to pre-colonial and post-colonial legacies. This paper then considers sociological and scientific approaches (constructivism and essentialism theories) that explain a place for same-sex unions in Islam.

Sexually Selected Infanticide (SSI) is thought of as a male reproductive strategy in social mammalian species, because females who lose cubs may quickly re-enter oestrus. SSI has rarely been documented in non-social mammals and, in brown bears, SSI has been studied mainly in an eco-ethological perspective. The authors examined the first genetically documented infanticide case which occurred in May 2015 in brown bears in Italy (Trentino, Central-Eastern Alps). The infanticide killed two cubs and their mother. Hair samples were collected from the corpses as well as saliva, through swabs on mother’s wounds, with the aim of identifying the genotype of the perpetrator. The samples were genotyped by PCR amplification of 15 autosomal microsatellite loci, following the protocol routinely used for individual bear identifications within the Interregional Action Plan for Brown Bear Conservation in the Central-Eastern Alps (PACOBACE). Reliable genotypes were obtained from the mother, cubs and putative perpetrator. The genotypes were matched with those populating the PACOBACE database and genealogies were reconstructed. Both mother and perpetrator genotypes were already present in the database. Kinship analyses confirmed mother-cubs relationships and identified the father of the cubs. In this study, for the first time, the authors used the open-source LRmix STUDIO software, designed to analyse human forensic genetic profiles, to solve a case in wildlife. Through LRmix STUDIO, those alleles that do not belong to the victims were isolated and, finally, the perpetrator was identified. This study presents a method that allows, through the application of different models, the genetic identification of the conspecific perpetrator with the highest probability. The identification of the infanticidal male is relevant for the better management and conservation of wild populations with small effective population size (Ne) and low population growth rate, especially in the case of recently established populations in human-dominated landscapes. This procedure will have predictably wide applications, supplying important data in the monitoring of small and isolated populations.

This paper describes follow-up for a cohort of 4530 residents living in the asbestos manufacturing community of Ambler, PA, U.S. in 1930. Using re-identified census data, cause and date of death data obtained from the genealogic website Ancestry.com, along with geospatial analysis, we explored relationships among demographic characteristics, occupational, paraoccupational and environmental asbestos exposures. We identified death data for 2430/4530 individuals. Exposure differed significantly according to race, gender, age, and recency of immigration to the U.S. Notably, there was a significant difference in the availability of year of death information for non-white vs. white individuals (odds ratio (OR) = 0.62 p-value < 0.001), females (OR = 0.53, p-value < 0.001), first-generation immigrants (OR = 0.67, p-value = 0.001), second-generation immigrants (OR = 0.31, p-value < 0.001) vs. non-immigrants, individuals aged less than 20 (OR = 0.31 p-value < 0.001) and individuals aged 20 to 59 (OR = 0.63, p-value < 0.001) vs. older individuals. Similarly, the cause of death was less often available for non-white individuals (OR = 0.42, p-value <0.001), first-generation immigrants and (OR = 0.71, p-value = 0.009), second-generation immigrants (OR = 0.49, p-value < 0.001), individuals aged less than 20 (OR = 0.028 p-value < 0.001), and individuals aged 20 to 59 (OR = 0.26, p-value < 0.001). These results identified ascertainment bias that is important to consider in analyses that investigate occupational, para-occupational and environmental asbestos exposure as risk factors for mortality in this historic cohort. While this study attempts to describe methods for assessing itemized asbestos exposure profiles for a community in 1930 using Ancestry.com and other publicly accessible databases, it also highlights how historic cohort studies likely underestimate the impact of asbestos exposure on vulnerable populations. Future work will aim to assess mortality patterns in this cohort.

Abstract The role of sex-specific demography in hybridization and admixture of genetically diverged species and populations is essential to understand the origins of the genomic diversity of sexually reproducing organisms. In order to infer how sex-linked loci have been differentiated undergoing frequent hybridization and admixture, we examined 17 whole-genome sequences of seven species of the genus Macaca, which shows frequent inter-specific hybridization and predominantly female philopatry. We found that hybridization and admixture were prevalent within these species. For three cases of suggested hybrid origin of species/subspecies, M. arctoides, M. fascicularis ssp. aurea, and Chinese M. mulatta, we examined the level of admixture of X chromosomes, which is less affected by male-biased migration than that of autosomes. In one case, we were able to determine that M. cyclopis and M. fuscata was genetically closer to Chinese M. mulatta than to the Indian M. mulatta, and the admixture level of Chinese M. mulatta and M. fuscata/cyclopis was more pronounced on the X chromosome than on autosomes. Since the mitochondrial genomes of Chinese M. mulatta, M. cyclopis, and M. fuscata were found to cluster together, and the mitochondrial genome of Indian M. mulatta is more distantly related, the observed pattern of genetic differentiation on X-chromosomal loci is consistent with the nuclear swamping hypothesis, in which strong, continuous male-biased introgression from the ancestral Chinese M. mulatta population to a population related to M. fuscata and M. cyclopis generated incongruencies between the genealogies of the mitochondrial and autosomal genomes.

Building on a long tradition of studies on the intertwining of politics and popular culture, the article examines the representation of the two Italian political leaders of the moment, Giorgia Meloni and Elly Schlein, offered by women’s magazines. The study focuses in particular on two interrelated aspects: on the one hand, the extent to which the discursive strategies to talk about the leaders, their personal lives, careers and ideas contribute to strengthen the contemporary hegemony on feminism; on the other hand, the discursive strategies used to represent the leaders through a frame of competition typical of the neoliberalism. Indeed, we refer to the most recent trends in feminism research, contested among post-feminism, neoliberal feminism and celebrity feminism. Within this framework, we examined whether and how female political leaders can become icons of life, style and power in a way that is functional to the neoliberal narrative. The critical discourse analysis conducted on eight Italian women’s magazines over the course of a year makes it possible to highlight some results that contribute to the reflection on neoliberal feminism and female leadership. In particular, leaders are presented through argumentative strategies of genealogism, exceptionalism and compensation: the ways in which magazines justify their position of power refer to family relationships and character qualities, emphasizing the characteristics closest to the neoliberal model and overshadowing all others, including political ideas. Rather, leaders are deradicalized and depoliticized to favour instead a reassuring narrative in which women have broken the glass ceiling. In that way, women’s magazines renounce representing women leaders for their ideas and ideologies, and instead focus on their unique mark of difference: their gender.

Abstract Background In 1975, the mummified body of a female has been found in the Franciscan church in Basel, Switzerland. Molecular and genealogic analyses unveiled her identity as Anna Catharina Bischoff (ACB), a member of the upper class of post-reformed Basel, who died at the age of 68 years, in 1787. The reason behind her death is still a mystery, especially that toxicological analyses revealed high levels of mercury, a common treatment against infections at that time, in different body organs. The computed tomography (CT) and histological analysis showed bone lesions in the femurs, the rib cage, and the skull, which refers to a potential syphilis case. Results Although we could not detect any molecular signs of the syphilis-causing pathogen Treponema pallidum subsp. pallidum, we realized high prevalence of a nontuberculous mycobacterium (NTM) species in brain tissue sample. The genome analysis of this NTM displayed richness of virulence genes and toxins, and similarity to other infectious NTM, known to infect immunocompromised patients. In addition, it displayed potential resistance to mercury compounds, which might indicate a selective advantage against the applied treatment. This suggests that ACB might have suffered from an atypical mycobacteriosis during her life, which could explain the mummy’s bone lesion and high mercury concentrations. Conclusions The study of this mummy exemplifies the importance of employing differential diagnostic approaches in paleopathological analysis, by combining classical anthropological, radiological, histological, and toxicological observations with molecular analysis. It represents a proof-of-concept for the discovery of not-yet-described ancient pathogens in well-preserved specimens, using de novo metagenomic assembly.

The Gothic is not always suited to women’s emancipation, but it is very well suited to women’s anger, and all other instances of what Barbara Creed (3) would refer to as ‘abject’ femininity: excessive, uncanny and uncontained instances that disturb patriarchal norms of womanhood. This article asserts that the conventions of the Gothic genre are well suited to expressions of women’s rage; invoking Sarah Ahmed’s work on the discomforting presence of the kill-joy in order to explore how the often-alienating processes of uncensored female anger coincide with contemporary notions of the Monstrous Feminine. This should not suggest that the Gothic is a wholly feminist genre - one need only look to Jane Eyre to observe the binarised construction of Gothic women as either ‘pure’ or ‘deviant’: virginal heroine or mad woman in the attic. However, what is significant about the Gothic genre is that it often permits far more in-depth, even sympathetic explorations of ‘deviant femininity’ that are out of place elsewhere.Indeed, the normative, rationalist demand for good health and accommodating cheerfulness is symptomatic of what Queer Crip scholar Katarina Kolářová (264) describes as ‘compulsory, curative positivity’ – wherein the Monstrousness of deviant femininity, Queerness and disability must be ‘fixed’ in order to produce blithe, comforting feminine docility. It seems almost too obvious to point to The Yellow Wallpaper as a perfect exemplar of this: the physician husband of Gillman’s protagonist literally prescribes indolence and passivity as ‘cures’ for what may well be post-partum depression – another instance of distinctly feminine irrationality that must be promptly contained. The short story is peppered through with references to the protagonist’s ‘illness’ as a source of consternation or discomfort for her husband, who declares, “I feel easier with you now” (134) as she becomes more and more passive.The notion of men’s comfort is important within discussions of women’s anger – not only within the Gothic, but within a broader context of gendered power and privileged experience. Sara Ahmed’s Killing Joy: Feminism and the History of Happiness asserts that we “describe as happy a situation that you wish to defend. Happiness translates its wish into a politics, a wishful politics, a politics that demands that others live according to a wish” (573) For Ahmed, happiness is not solely an individual experience, but rather is relational, and as much influenced by normative systems of power as any other interpersonal process.It has historically fallen upon women to sacrifice their own happiness to ensure that men are comfortable; being quiet and unargumentative, remaining both chase and sexually alluring, being maternal and nurturing, while scrupulously censoring any evidence of pregnancy, breastfeeding or menstrual cycles (Boyer 79). If a woman has ceased to be happy within these terms, then she has failed to be a good woman, and experiences what Ahmed refers to as a ‘negative affect’ – a feeling of being out of place. To be out of place is to be an ‘affect alien’: one must either continue feeling alienated or correct one’s feelings (Ahmed 582). Sociologist Arlie Russell Hochschild uses the analogy of a bride feeling miserable at her wedding, obliging herself to bring her feelings in-line with what is expected of her, “Sensing a gap between the ideal feeling and the actual feeling she tolerated, the bride prompts herself to be happy” (Hochschild 61).Ahmed uses to the term ‘Kill Joy’ to refer to feminists – particularly black feminists – whose actions or presence refuse this obligation, and in turn project their discomfort outwards, instead of inwards. The stereotype of the angry black woman, or the humourless feminist persist because these women are not complicit in social orders that hold the comfort of white men as paramount (583); their presence is discomforting.Contrary to its title, Killing Joy does not advocate for an end to happiness. Rather, one might understand the act of killing joy as a tactic of subjective honesty – an acknowledgement of dis-ease, of one’s alienation and displacement within the social contract of reciprocal happiness. Here I use the word dis-ease as a deliberate double entendre – implying both the experience of a negative affect, as well as the apparent social ‘illness’ of refusing acquiescent female joy. In The Yellow Wallpaper, the protagonist’s passive femininity is ironically both the antithesis and the cause of her Monstrous transformation, demonstrating an instance of feminine liminality that is the hallmark of the Gothic heroine.Here I introduce the example of Lily Frankenstein, a modern interpretation of the Bride of the Creature, portrayed by Billie Piper in the Showtime series Penny Dreadful. In Shelley’s novel the Bride is commissioned for the Creature’s contentment, a contract that Frankenstein acknowledges she could not possibly have consented to (Shelley 206). She is never given sentience or agency; her theoretical existence and pre-natal destruction being premised entirely on the comfort of men. Upon her destruction, the Creature cries, “Are you to be happy while I grovel in the intensity of my wretchedness?” (Shelley 209). Her first film portrayal by Elsa Lanchester in James Whale’s The Bride of Frankenstein (1936) is iconic, but brief. She is granted no dialogue, other than a terrified scream, followed by a goose-like hiss of disgust at Boris Karloff’s lonely Creature. Kenneth Branagh’s Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1994) merges the characters of Elizabeth and the Bride into the same doomed woman. After being murdered by the Creature, she is resurrected by Frankenstein – and consequently fought over by both. Her inevitable suicide is her one moment of tragic autonomy.Penny Dreadful is the first time that the Bride has been given an opportunity to speak for herself. Lily’s character arc is neither that of the idealised, innocent victim, nor is she entirely abject and wanton: she is – quite literally – two women in one. Before she is re-animated and conditioned by Victor Frankenstein to be the perfect bride, she was Brona, a predictably tragic, Irish street-walker with a taste for whisky and a consumptive cough. Diane Long Hoeveler describes the ambiguous duality of the Gothic feminine arising from the fantasies of middle-class woman writing gothic fiction during the 19th century (106). Drawing upon Harriet Guest’s examination of the development of femininity in early Gothic literature, Hoeveler asserts that women may explore the ‘deviant’ pleasures of wanton sexuality and individualistic, sadistic power while still retaining the chaste femininity demanded of them by their bourgeois upbringings. As both innocent victim of patriarchy and Monstrous Feminine, the construction of the gothic heroine simultaneously criminalises and deifies women.I assert that Penny Dreadful demonstrates the blurring of these boundaries in such a way that the fantasy of the sympathetic, yet Monstrous Gothic Feminine is launched out of the parlours of bored Victorian housewives into a contemporary feminist moment that is characterised by a split between respectable diplomacy and the visibility of female rage. Her transition from coerced docility and abject, sexualised anger manifests in the second season of the show. The Creature – having grown impatient and jealous – comes to collect his Bride and is met with a furious refusal.Lily’s rage is explosive. Her raw emotion is evidently startling to the Creature, who stands in astonishment and fear at something even more monstrous and alien than himself – a woman’s unrestrained anger. For all his wretched ‘Otherness’ and misery, he is yet a man - a bastard son of the Enlightenment, desperate to be allowed entrance into the hallowed halls of reason. In both Shelley’s original novel and the series, he tries (and fails) to establish himself as a worthy and rational citizen; settling upon the Bride as his coveted consolation prize for his Monstrous failure. If he cannot be a man as his creator was, then he shall have a companion that is ‘like’ him to soothe his pain.Consequently, Lily’s refusal of the Creature is more than a rejection – it is the manifestation of an alien affect that has been given form within the undead, angry woman: a trifecta of ‘Otherness’. “Shall we wonder the pastures and recite your fucking poetry to the fucking cows?” She mocks the Creature’s bucolic, romantic ideals, killing his joyful phantasy that she, as his companion, will love and comfort him despite his Monstrousness (“Memento Mori”).Lily’s confrontation of the Creature is an unrestrained litany of women’s pain – the humiliation of corsetry and high heels, the slavery of marriage, the brutality of sexual coercion: all which Ahmed would refer to as the “signs of labour under the sign of happiness” (573). These are the pains that women must hide in order to maintain men’s comfort, the sacrificial emotional labours which are obfuscated by the mandates of male-defined femininity. The Gothic’s nurturance of anger transforms Lily’s outburst from an act of cruelty and selfishness to a site of significant feminine abjection. Through this scene Hochschild’s comment takes on new meaning: Lily – being quite literally the Bride (or the intended Bride) of the Creature – has turned the tables and has altered the process of disaffection – and made herself happy at the expense of men.Lily forms a militia of ‘fallen’ women from whom she demands tribute: the bleeding, amputated hands of abusive men. The scene is a thrilling one, recalling the misogyny of witch trials, sexual violence and exploitation as an army of angry kill joys bang on the banquet table, baying for men’s blood (“Ebb Tide”). However, as seems almost inevitable, Lily’s campaign is short-lived. Her efforts are thwarted and her foot soldiers either murdered or fled. We last see her walking dejectedly through the London fog, her fate and future unknown.Lily’s story recalls an instance of the ‘bad feminism’ that nice, respectable, mainstream feminists seek to distance themselves from. In her discussion of the acquittal of infamous castatrix Lorena Bobbitt, poet Katha Pollitt (65-66) observes the scramble by “nice, liberal middle-class professional” feminists to distance themselves from the narratives of irrational rage that supposedly characterise ‘victim feminism’ – opting instead for the comforting ivory towers of self-control and diplomacy.Lily’s speech to her troops is seen partly through the perspective of an increasingly alarmed Dorian Gray, who has hitherto been enjoying the debauched potential of these liberated, ‘deviant’ women, recalling bell hooks’ observation that “ultimately many males revolted when we stated that our bodies were territories that they could not occupy at will. Men who were ready for female sexual liberation if it meant free pussy, no strings attached, were rarely ready for feminist female sexual agency” (41). This is no longer a coterie of wanton women that he may enjoy, but a sisterhood of angry, vengeful kill-joys that will not be respectable, or considerate of his feelings in their endeavours.Here, parallels arise between the absolutes drawn between women as agents or victims, and the positioning of women as positive, progressive ‘rational’ beings or melancholic kill-joys that Ahmed describes. We need only turn to the contemporary debate surrounding the MeToo movement (and its asinine, defensive response of ‘Not All Men’) to observe that the process of identifying oneself as a victim has – for many – become synonymous with weakness, even amongst other feminists. Notably, Germaine Greer referred to the movement as ‘whinging’, calling upon women to be more assertive, instead of wallowing in self-victimisation and misandry, as Lily supposedly does (Miller).While Greer may be a particularly easy strawman, her comments nonetheless recall Judith Halberstam’s observations of prescriptive paternalism (maternalism?) within Western feminist discourse. His chapter Shadow Feminisms uses the work of Gayatri Spivak to describe how triumphalist narratives of women’s liberation often function to restrict the terms of women’s agency and expression – particularly those of women of colour.Spivak’s Can the Subaltern Speak? asserts that the colonial narratives inherent within white feminists’ attempts to ‘save’ non-Western women are premised upon the imagined heroicism of the individual, which in turn demands the rejection of ‘subaltern’ strategies like passiveness, anger and refusal. She asks, “does the category of resistance impose a teleology of progressive politics on the analytics of power?” (9). Put more simply, both Halberstam and Spivak beg the question of why it is necessary for women and other historically marginalised groups to adopt optimistic and respectable standards of agency? Especially when those terms are pre-emptively defined by feminists like Greer.Halberstam conceptualises Shadow Feminisms in the melancholic terms of refusal, undoing, failure and anger. Even in name, Shadow Feminism is well suited to the Gothic – it has no agenda of triumphant, linear progress, nor the saccharine coercion of individualistic optimism. Rather, it emphasises the repressed, quiet forms of subversion that skulk in the introspective, resentful gloom. This is a feminism that cannot and will not let go of its traumas or its pain, because it should not have to (Halberstam, Queer Art 128-129).Thus, the Monstrousness of female rage is given space to acknowledge, rather than downplay or dismiss the affective-alienation of patriarchy. To paraphrase scholars Andrew Smith and Diana Wallace, the Gothic allows women to explore the hidden or censured expressions of dissatisfaction and resentment within patriarchal societies, being a “coded expression of women’s fears of entrapment within the domestic and within the female body” (Smith & Wallace 2).It may be easy to dismiss the Gothic as eldritch assemblages of Opheliac madness and abject hyperbole, I argue that it is valuable precisely because it invites the opening of festering wounds and the exploration of mouldering sepulchres that are shunned by the squeamish mainstream; coaxing the skeletons from the closet so that they may finally air their musty grievances. As Halberstam states in Skin Shows: Gothic Horror and the Technology of Monsters, the Gothic represents the return of the repressed and thus encourages rather than censors the exploration of grief, madness and irrationality (Skin Shows 19). Accordingly, we may understand Lily’s rage as what Halberstam would refer to as a Monstrous Technology (21-22) – more specifically, a technology of the Monstrous Feminine: a significant site of disruption within Gothic narratives that not only ‘shows’ the source of its abjection, but angrily airs its dirty laundry for everyone to see.Here emerges the distinction between the ‘non-whinging’, respectable feminism advocated by the likes of Greer and Lily’s Monstrous, Gothic Feminism. Observing a demonstration by a group of suffragettes, Lily describes their efforts as unambitious – “their enemies are same, but they seek equality” (“Good and Evil Braided Be”). Lily has set her sights upon mastery. By allowing her rage to manifest freely, her movement has manifested as the violent misandry that anti-suffragists and contemporary anti-feminists alike believe is characteristic of women’s liberation, provoking an uncomfortable moment for ‘good’ feminists who desperately wish to avoid such pejorative stereotypes.What Lily offers is not ethical. It does not conform to any justifiable feminist ideology. She represents that which is repressed, a distinctly female rage that has no place within any rational system of belief. Nonetheless, Lily remains a sympathetic character, her “doomed, keening women” (“Ebb Tide”) evoking a quiet, subversive thrill of solidarity that must be immediately hushed. This, I assert, is indicative of the liminal ambiguity that makes the Monstrous Feminine so unsettling, and so significant.And Monsters are always significant. Their ‘Otherness’ functions like lighthouses of meaning. Further, as Jeffrey Jerome Cohen (6) reminds us, Monsters signify not only the fragile boundaries of human subjectivity and discourse, but also the origins of the alterity that defines them. Like the tragic creature of Shelley’s masterpiece, Monsters eventually follow their creators home to demand an explanation – their revenant terror demands accountability (Cohen 20). What Lily exemplifies does not have to make others comfortable, and it is under no obligation to remain within any standards of ethics. To return one last time to Halberstam, I argue that the Monstrosity manifested within female rage is valuable precisely because it because it obliges us “to be unsettled by the politically problematic connections history throws our way” (Halberstam, Queer Art 162). Therefore, to be angry, to dwell on traumatic pasts, and to revel in the ‘failure’ of negativity is to ensure that these genealogies are not ignored.When finally captured, Victor Frankenstein attempts to lobotomise her, promising to permanently take away the pain that is the cause of her Monstrous rage. To this, Lily responds: “there are some wounds that can never heal. There are scars that make us who we are, but without them, we don’t exist” (“Perpetual Night and the Blessed Dark”). Lily refuses to let go of her grief and her anger, and in so doing she fails to coalesce within the placid, docile femininity demanded by Victor Frankenstein. But her refusal is not premised in an obdurate reactionism. Rather, it is a tactic of survival. By her own words, without her trauma – and that of countless women before her – she does not exist. The violence of rape, abuse and the theft of her agency have defined her as both a woman and as a Monster. “I’m the sum part of one woman’s days. No more, no less”, she tells Frankenstein. To eschew her rage is to deny its origin.So, to finish I ask readers to take a moment, and dwell on that rage. On women’s rage. On yours. On the rage that may have been directed at you. Does that make you uncomfortable?Good.ReferencesAhmed, Sara. “Killing Joy: Feminism and the History of Happiness.” Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 35.3 (2010): 571-593.Cohen, Jeffrey Jerome. “Monster Culture (Seven Theses).” Monster Theory: Reading Culture. Ed. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen. Minnesota: U of Minnesota P, 1996. 3-25.Creed, Barbara. The Monstrous Feminine: Film, Feminism, Psychoanalysis. New York: Routledge, 1993.“Ebb Tide.”. Penny Dreadful. Showtime, 2016.“Good and Evil Braided Be.” Penny Dreadful. Showtime, 2016.Halberstam, Judith. Skin Shows: Gothic Horror and the Technology of Monsters. USA: Duke UP, 1995.———. The Queer Art of Failure. USA: Duke UP, 2011.Hoeveler, Diane. “The Female Gothic, Beating Fantasies and the Civilizing Process.” Comparative Romanticisms: Power, Gender, Subjectivity. Eds. Larry H. Peer and Diane Long Hoeveler. Columbia, SC: Camden House, 1998. 101-132.hooks, bell. Communion: The Female Search for Love. USA: Harper Collins, 2003.Kolářová, Kristina. “The Inarticulate Post-Socialist Crip: On the Cruel Optimism of Neo-Liberal Transformation in the Czech Republic.” Journal of Literary & Cultural Disability Studies 8.3 (2014): 257-274.“Memento Mori.” Penny Dreadful. Showtime, 2015.Miller, Nick. “Germaine Greer Challenges #MeToo Campaign.” Sydney Morning Herald, 21 Jan. 2018.“Perpetual Night/The Blessed Dark.” Penny Dreadful. Showtime, 2016.Pollitt, Katha. “Lorena’s Army.” “Bad Girls”/“Good Girls”: Women, Sex & Power in the Nineties. Eds. Nan Bauer Maglin and Donna Perry. New Brunswick: Rutgers UP, 1996. 65-67.Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein, Or the Modern Prometheus. Australia: Penguin Books, 2009 [1818].Spivak, Gayatri. “Can the Subaltern Speak?” Marxism and the Interpretation of Culture. Eds. Cary Nelson and Lawrence Grossberg. Chicago: U of Illinois P, 1988.Smith, Andrew, and Diana Wallace. “The Female Gothic: Now and Then”. Gothic Studies 6.1 (2004): 1-7.

Introduction In the wake of the disaster of World War I, the Surrealists formulated a hostile critique of the novel that identified its limitations in expressing the depth of the mind's faculties and the fragmentation of the psyche after catastrophic events. From this position of crisis, the Surrealists undertook a series of experimental innovations in form, structure, and style in an attempt to renew the genre. This article examines how the praxis of shock is deployed in a number of Surrealist city novels as a conduit for revolt against a society that grew increasingly mechanised in the climate of post-war regeneration. It seeks to counter the contemporary view that Surrealist city dérives (drifts) represent an intriguing yet ultimately benign method of urban research. By reconsidering its origins in response to a world catastrophe, this article emphasises the Surrealist novel’s binding of the affective properties of shock to the dream-awakening dialectic at the heart of the political position of Surrealism. The Surrealist City Novel Today it has almost become a truism to assert that there is a causal link between the catastrophic devastation wrought by the events of the two World Wars and the ideology of rupture that characterised the iconoclasms of the Modernist avant-gardes. Yet, as we progress into the twenty-first century, it is timely to recognise that new generations are rediscovering canonical and peripheral texts of this era and refracting them through a prism of contemporary preoccupations. In many ways, the revisions of today’s encounters with that past era suggest we have travelled some distance from the rawness of such catastrophic events. One post-war body of work recently subjected to view via an unexpected route is the remarkable array of Surrealist city novels set in Paris in the 1920s and 1930s, representing a spectrum of experimental texts by such authors as André Breton, Louis Aragon, Robert Desnos, Philippe Soupault, and Michel Leiris. Over the past decade, these works have become recuperated in the Anglophone context as exemplary instances of ludic engagement with the city. This is due in large part to the growing surge of interest in psychogeography, an urban research method concerned with the influence that geographical environments exert over the emotions and behaviours of individuals, and a concern for tracing the literary genealogies of walking and writing in broad sweeping encyclopaedic histories and guidebook style accounts (for prominent examples see Rebecca Solnit’s Wanderlust and Merlin Coverley’s Psychogeography). Yet as Surrealist novels continue to garner renewed interest for their erotic intrigue, their strolling encounters with the unconscious or hidden facets of the city, and as precursors to the apparently more radical practice of Situationist psychogeography, this article suggests that something vital is missing. By neglecting the revolutionary significance that the Surrealists placed upon the street and its inextricable connection to the shock of the marvellous, I suggest that we have arrived at a point of diminished appreciation of the praxis of the dream-awakening dialectic at the heart of Surrealist politics. With the movement firmly lodged in the popular imagination as concerned merely with the art of play and surprise, the Surrealists’ sensorial conception of the city as embedded within a much larger critique of the creators of “a sterile and dead world” (Rasmussen 372) is lost. This calls into question to what extent we can now relate to the urgency with which avant-gardes like the Surrealists responded to the disaster of war in their call for “the revolution of the subject, a revolution that destroyed identity and released the fantastic” (372). At the same time, a re-evaluation of the Surrealist city novel as a significant precursor to the psychogeograhical dérive (drift) can prove instructive in locating the potential of walking, in order to function as a form of praxis (defined here as lived practice in opposition to theory) that goes beyond its more benign construction as the “gentle art” of getting lost. The Great Shock To return to the origins of Surrealism is to illuminate the radical intentions of the movement. The enormous shock that followed the Great War represented, according to Roger Shattuck, “a profound organic reaction that convulsed the entire system with vomiting, manic attacks, and semi-collapse” (9). David Gascoyne considers 1919, the inaugural year of Surrealist activity, as “a year of liquidation, the end of everything but also of paroxysmic death-birth, incubating seeds of renewal” (17). It was at this time that André Breton and his collaborator Philippe Soupault came together at the Hôtel des Grands Hommes in Paris to conduct their early experimental research. As the authors took poetic license with the psychoanalytical method of automatic writing, their desire to unsettle the latent content of the unconscious as it manifests in the spontaneous outpourings of dream-like recollections resulted in the first collection of Surrealist texts, The Magnetic Fields (1920). As Breton recalls: Completely occupied as I still was with Freud at that time, and familiar with his methods of examination which I had had some slight occasion to use on some patients during the war, I resolved to obtain from myself what we were trying to obtain from them, namely, a monologue spoken as rapidly as possible without any intervention on the part of critical faculties, a monologue consequently unencumbered by the slightest inhibition and which was, as closely as possible, akin to spoken thought. (Breton, Manifesto 22–23) Despite their debts to psychoanalytical methods, the Surrealists sought radically different ends from therapeutic goals in their application. Rather than using analysis to mitigate the pathologies of the psyche, Breton argued that such methods should instead be employed to liberate consciousness in ways that released the individual from “the reign of logic” (Breton, Manifesto 11) and the alienating forces of a mechanised society. In the same manifesto, Breton links his critique to a denunciation of the novel, principally the realist novel which dominated the literary landscape of the nineteenth-century, for its limitations in conveying the power of the imagination and the depths of the mind’s faculties. Despite these protestations, the Surrealists were unable to completely jettison the novel and instead launched a series of innovations in form, structure, and style in an attempt to renew the genre. As J.H. Matthews suggests, “Being then, as all creative surrealism must be, the expression of a mood of experimentation, the Surrealist novel probes not only the potentialities of feeling and imagination, but also those of novelistic form” (Matthews 6). When Nadja appeared in 1928, Breton was not the first Surrealist to publish a novel. However, this work remains the most well-known example of its type in the Anglophone context. Largely drawn from the author’s autobiographical experiences, it recounts the narrator’s (André’s) obsessive infatuation with a mysterious, impoverished and unstable young woman who goes by the name of Nadja. The pair’s haunted and uncanny romance unfolds during their undirected walks, or dérives, through the streets of Paris, the city acting as an affective register of their encounters. The “intellectual seduction” comes to an abrupt halt (Breton, Nadja 108), however, when Nadja does in fact go truly mad, disappearing from the narrator’s life when she is committed to an asylum. André makes no effort to seek her out and after launching into a diatribe vehemently attacking the institutions that administer psychiatric treatment, nonchalantly resumes the usual concerns of his everyday life. At a formal level, Breton’s unconventional prose indeed stirs many minor shocks and tremors in the reader. The insertion of temporally off-kilter photographs and surreal drawings are intended to supersede naturalistic description. However, their effect is to create a form of “negative indexicality” (Masschelein) that subtly undermines the truth claims of the novel. Random coincidences charged through with the attractive force of desire determine the plot while the compressed dream-like narrative strives to recount only those facts of “violently fortuitous character” (Breton, Nadja 19). Strikingly candid revelations perpetually catch the reader off guard. But it is in the novel’s treatment of the city, most specifically, in which we can recognise the evolution of Surrealism’s initial concern for the radically subversive and liberatory potential of the dream into a form of praxis that binds the shock of the marvellous to the historical materialism of Marx and Engels. This praxis unfolds in the novel on a number of levels. By placing its events firmly at the level of the street, Breton privileges the anti-heroic realm of everyday life over the socially hierarchical domain of the bourgeois domestic interior favoured in realist literature. More significantly, the sites of the city encountered in the novel act as repositories of collective memory with the power to rupture the present. As Margaret Cohen comprehensively demonstrates in her impressive study Profane Illumination, the great majority of sites that the narrator traverses in Nadja reveal connections in previous centuries to instances of bohemian activity, violent insurrection or revolutionary events. The enigmatic statue of Étienne Dolet, for example, to which André is inexplicably drawn on his city walks and which produces a sensation of “unbearable discomfort” (25), commemorates a sixteenth-century scholar and writer of love poetry condemned as a heretic and burned at the Place Maubert for his non-conformist attitudes. When Nadja is suddenly gripped by hallucinations and imagines herself among the entourage of Marie-Antoinette, “multiple ghosts of revolutionary violence descend on the Place Dauphine from all sides” (Cohen 101). Similarly, a critique of capitalism emerges in the traversal of those marginal and derelict zones of the city, such as the Saint-Ouen flea market, which become revelatory of the historical cycles of decay and ruination that modernity seeks to repress through its faith in progress. It was this poetic intuition of the machinations of historical materialism, in particular, that captured the attention of Walter Benjamin in his 1929 “Surrealism” essay, in which he says of Breton that: He can boast an extraordinary discovery: he was the first to perceive the revolutionary energies that appear in the “outmoded”—in the first iron constructions, the first factory buildings, the earliest photos, objects that have begun to be extinct, grand pianos, the dresses of five years ago, fashionable restaurants when the vogue has begun to ebb from them. The relation of these things to revolution—no one can have a more exact concept of it than these authors. (210) In the same passage, Benjamin makes passing reference to the Passage de l’Opéra, the nineteenth-century Parisian arcade threatened with demolition and eulogised by Louis Aragon in his Surrealist anti-novel Paris Peasant (published in 1926, two years earlier than Nadja). Loosely structured around a series of walks, Aragon’s book subverts the popular guidebook literature of the period by inventorying the arcade’s quotidian attractions in highly lyrical and imagistic prose. As in Nadja, a concern for the “outmoded” underpins the praxis which informs the politics of the novel although here it functions somewhat differently. As transitional zones on the cusp of redevelopment, the disappearing arcades attract Aragon for their liminal status, becoming malleable dreamscapes where an ontological instability renders them ripe for eruptions of the marvellous. Such sites emerge as “secret repositories of several modern myths,” and “the true sanctuaries of a cult of the ephemeral”. (Aragon 14) City as Dreamscape Contemporary literature increasingly reads Paris Peasant through the lens of psychogeography, and not unproblematically. In his brief guide to psychogeography, British writer Merlin Coverley stresses Aragon’s apparent documentary or ethnographical intentions in describing the arcades. He suggests that the author “rails against the destruction of the city” (75), positing the novel as “a handbook for today’s breed of psychogeographer” (76). The nuances of Aragon’s dream-awakening dialectic, however, are too easily effaced in such an assessment which overlooks the novel’s vertiginous and hyperbolic prose as it consistently approaches an unreality in its ambivalent treatment of the arcades. What is arguably more significant than any documentary concern is Aragon’s commitment to the broader Surrealist quest to transform reality by undermining binary oppositions between waking life and the realm of dreams. As Hal Foster’s reading of the arcades in Surrealism insists: This gaze is not melancholic; the surrealists do not cling obsessively to the relics of the nineteenth-century. Rather it uncovers them for the purposes of resistance through re-enchantment. If we can grasp this dialectic of ruination, recovery, and resistance, we will grasp the intimated ambition of the surrealist practice of history. (166) Unlike Aragon, Breton defended the political position of Surrealism throughout the ebbs and flows of the movement. This notion of “resistance through re-enchantment” retained its significance for Breton as he clung to the radical importance of dreams and the imagination, creative autonomy, and individual freedom over blind obedience to revolutionary parties. Aragon’s allegiance to communism led him to surrender the poetic intoxications of Surrealist prose in favour of the more sombre and austere tone of social realism. By contrast, other early Surrealists like Philippe Soupault contributed novels which deployed the praxis of shock in a less explicitly dialectical fashion. Soupault’s Last Nights of Paris (1928), in particular, responds to the influence of the war in producing a crisis of identity among a generation of young men, a crisis projected or transferred onto the city streets in ways that are revelatory of the author’s attunement to how “places and environment have a profound influence on memory and imagination” (Soupault 91). All the early Surrealists served in the war in varying capacities. In Soupault’s case, the writer “was called up in 1916, used as a guinea pig for a new typhoid vaccine, and spent the rest of the war in and out of hospital. His close friend and cousin, René Deschamps, was killed in action” (Read 22). Memories of the disaster of war assume a submerged presence in Soupault’s novel, buried deep in the psyche of the narrator. Typically, it is the places and sites of the city that act as revenants, stimulating disturbing memories to drift back to the surface which then suffuse the narrator in an atmosphere of melancholy. During the novel’s numerous dérives, the narrator’s detective-like pursuit of his elusive love-object, the young streetwalker Georgette, the tracking of her near-mute artist brother Octave, and the following of the ringleader of a criminal gang, all appear as instances of compensation. Each chase invokes a desire to recover a more significant earlier loss that persistently eludes the narrator. When Soupault’s narrator shadows Octave on a walk that ventures into the city’s industrial zone, recollections of the disaster of war gradually impinge upon his aleatory perambulations. His description evokes two men moving through the trenches together: The least noise was a catastrophe, the least breath a great terror. We walked in the eternal mud. Step by step we sank into the thickness of night, lost as if forever. I turned around several times to look at the way we had come but night alone was behind us. (80) In an article published in 2012, Catherine Howell identifies Last Nights of Paris as “a lyric celebration of the city as spectacle” (67). At times, the narrator indeed surrenders himself to the ocular pleasures of modernity. Observing the Eiffel Tower, he finds delight in “indefinitely varying her silhouette as if I were examining her through a kaleidoscope” (Soupault 30). Yet it is important to stress the role that shock plays in fissuring this veneer of spectacle, especially those evocations of the city that reveal an unnerving desensitisation to the more violent manifestations of the metropolis. Reading a newspaper, the narrator remarks that “the discovery of bags full of limbs, carefully sawed and chopped up” (23) signifies little more than “a commonplace crime” (22). Passing the banks of the Seine provokes “recollection of an evening I had spent lying on the parapet of the Pont Marie watching several lifesavers trying in vain to recover the body of an unfortunate suicide” (10). In his sensitivity to the unassimilable nature of trauma, Soupault intuits a phenomenon which literary trauma theory argues profoundly limits the text’s claim to representation, knowledge, and an autonomous subject. In this sense, Soupault appears less committed than Breton to the idea that the after-effects of shock might be consciously distilled into a form of praxis. Yet this prolongation of an unintegrated trauma still posits shock as a powerful vehicle to critique a society attempting to heal its wounds without addressing their underlying causes. This is typical of Surrealism’s efforts to “dramatize the physical and psychological trauma of a war that everyone wanted to forget so that it would not be swept away too quickly” (Lyford 4). Woman and Radical Madness In her 2007 study, Surrealist Masculinities, Amy Lyford focuses upon the regeneration and nation building project that characterised post-war France and argues that Surrealist tactics sought to dismantle an official discourse that promoted ideals of “robust manhood and female maternity” (4). Viewed against this backdrop, the trope of madness in Surrealism is central to the movement’s disruptive strategies. In Last Nights of Paris, a lingering madness simmers beneath the surface of the text like an undertow, while in other Surrealist texts the lauding of madness, specifically female hysteria, is much more explicit. Indeed, the objectification of the madwoman in Surrealism is among the most problematic aspects of its praxis of shock and one that raises questions over to what extent, if at all, Surrealism and feminism can be reconciled, leading some critics to define the movement as inherently misogynistic. While certainly not unfounded, this critique fails to answer why a broad spectrum of women artists have been drawn to the movement. By contrast, a growing body of work nuances the complexities of the “blinds spots” (Lusty 2) in Surrealism’s relationship with women. Contemporary studies like Natalya Lusty’s Surrealism, Feminism, Psychoanalysis and Katharine Conley’s earlier Automatic Woman both afford greater credit to Surrealism’s female practitioners in redefining their subject position in ways that trouble and unsettle the conventional understanding of women’s role in the movement. The creative and self-reflexive manipulation of madness, for example, proved pivotal to the achievements of Surrealist women. In her short autobiographical novella, Down Below (1944), Leonora Carrington recounts the disturbing true experience of her voyage into madness sparked by the internment of her partner and muse, fellow Surrealist Max Ernst, in a concentration camp in 1940. Committed to a sanatorium in Santander, Spain, Carrington was treated with the seizure inducing drug Cardiazol. Her text presents a startling case study of therapeutic maltreatment that is consistent with Bretonian Surrealism’s critique of the use of psycho-medical methods for the purposes of regulating and disciplining the individual. As well as vividly recalling her intense and frightening hallucinations, Down Below details the author’s descent into a highly paranoid state which, somewhat perversely, heightens her sense of agency and control over her environment. Unable to discern boundaries between her internal reality and that of the external world, Carrington develops a delusional and inflated sense of her ability to influence the city of Madrid: In the political confusion and the torrid heat, I convinced myself that Madrid was the world’s stomach and that I had been chosen for the task of restoring that digestive organ to health […] I believed that I was capable of bearing that dreadful weight and of drawing from it a solution for the world. The dysentery I suffered from later was nothing but the illness of Madrid taking shape in my intestinal tract. (12–13) In this way, Carrington’s extraordinarily visceral memoir embodies what can be described as the Surrealist woman’s “double allegiance” (Suleiman 5) to the praxis of shock. On the one hand, Down Below subversively harnesses the affective qualities of madness in order to manifest textual disturbances and to convey the author’s fierce rebellion against societal constraints. At the same time, the work reveals a more complex and often painful representational struggle inherent in occupying the position of both the subject experiencing madness and the narrator objectively recalling its events, displaying a tension not present in the work of the male Surrealists. The memoir concludes on an ambivalent note as Carrington describes finally becoming “disoccultized” of her madness, awakening to “the mystery with which I was surrounded and which they all seemed to take pleasure in deepening around me” (53). Notwithstanding its ambivalence, Down Below typifies the political and historical dimensions of Surrealism’s struggle against internal and external limits. Yet as early as 1966, Surrealist scholar J.H. Matthews was already cautioning against reaching that point where the term Surrealist “loses any meaning and becomes, as it is for too many, synonymous with ‘strange,’ ‘weird,’ or even ‘fanciful’” (5–6). To re-evaluate the praxis of shock in the Surrealist novel, then, is to seek to reinstate Surrealism as a movement that cannot be reduced to vague adjectives or to mere aesthetic principles. It is to view it as an active force passionately engaged with the pressing social, cultural, and political problems of its time. While the frequent nods to Surrealist methods in contemporary literary genealogies and creative urban research practices such as psychogeography are a testament to its continued allure, the growing failure to read Surrealism as political is one of the more contradictory symptoms of the expanding temporal distance from the catastrophic events from which the movement emerged. As it becomes increasingly common to draw links between disaster, creativity, and renewal, the shifting sands of the reception of Surrealism are a reminder of the need to resist domesticating movements born from such circumstances in ways that blunt their critical faculties and dull the awakening power of their praxis of shock. To do otherwise is to be left with little more than cheap thrills. References Aragon, Louis. Paris Peasant (1926). Trans. Simon Watson Taylor. Boston: Exact Change, 1994. Benjamin, Walter. “Surrealism: The Last Snapshot of the European Intelligentsia” (1929). Trans. Edmund Jephcott. Walter Benjamin Selected Writings, Volume 2, Part I, 1927–1930. Eds. Michael W. Jennings, Howard Eiland, and Gary Smith. Cambridge, MA: The Belknap P, 2005. Breton, André. “Manifesto of Surrealism” (1924). Manifestoes of Surrealism. Trans. Richard Seaver and Helen R. Lane. Ann Arbor, MI: U of Michigan P, 1990. ———. Nadja (1928). Trans. Richard Howard. New York: Grove P, 1960. Breton, André, and Philippe Soupault. The Magnetic Fields (1920). Trans. David Gascoyne. London: Atlas P, 1985. Carrington, Leonora. Down Below (1944). Chicago: Black Swan P, 1983. Cohen, Margaret. Profane Illumination: Walter Benjamin and the Paris of Surrealist Revolution. Berkeley, CA: U of California P, 1993. Conley, Katharine. Automatic Woman: The Representation of Woman in Surrealism. Lincoln, NE: U of Nebraska P, 1996. Coverley, Merlin. Psychogeography. Harpenden: Pocket Essentials, 2010. Foster, Hal. Compulsive Beauty. Cambridge, MA: MIT P, 1993. Gascoyne, David. “Introduction.” The Magnetic Fields (1920) by André Breton and Philippe Soupault. Trans. David Gascoyne. London: Atlas P, 1985. Howell, Catherine. “City of Night: Parisian Explorations.” Public: Civic Spectacle 45 (2012): 64–77. Lusty, Natalya. Surrealism, Feminism, Psychoanalysis. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2007. Lyford, Amy. Surrealist Masculinities: Gender Anxiety and the Aesthetics of Post-World War I Reconstruction in France. Berkeley, CA: U of California P, 2007. Masschelein, Anneleen. “Hand in Glove: Negative Indexicality in André Breton’s Nadja and W.G. Sebald’s Austerlitz.” Searching for Sebald: Photography after W.G. Sebald. Ed. Lise Patt. Los Angeles, CA: ICI P, 2007. 360–87. Matthews, J.H. Surrealism and the Novel. Ann Arbor, MI: U of Michigan P, 1996. Rasmussen, Mikkel Bolt. “The Situationist International, Surrealism and the Difficult Fusion of Art and Politics.” Oxford Art Journal 27.3 (2004): 365–87. Read, Peter. “Poets out of Uniform.” Book Review. The Times Literary Supplement. 15 Mar. 2002: 22. Shattuck, Roger. “Love and Laughter: Surrealism Reappraised.” The History of Surrealism. Ed. Maurice Nadeau. Trans. Richard Howard. New York: Penguin Books, 1978. 11–34. Solnit, Rebecca. Wanderlust: A History of Walking. London: Verso, 2002. Soupault, Philippe. Last Nights of Paris (1928). Trans. William Carlos Williams. Boston: Exact Change, 1992. Suleiman, Susan Robin. “Surrealist Black Humour: Masculine/Feminine.” Papers of Surrealism 1 (2003): 1–11. 20 Feb. 2013 ‹http://www.surrealismcentre.ac.uk/papersofsurrealism/journal1›.

This paper argues that illegitimacy is a concept that relates to almost all of the fundamental ways in which Western society has traditionally organised itself. Sex, family and marriage, and the power of the church and state, are all implicated in the various ways in which society reproduces itself from generation to generation. All employ the concepts of legitimacy and illegitimacy to define what is and what is not permissible. Further, the creation of the illegitimate can occur in more or less legitimate ways; for example, through acts of consent, on the one hand; and force, on the other. This paper uses the study of an English Renaissance text, Shakespeare’s Henry V, to argue that these concepts remain potent ones, regularly invoked as a means of identifying and denouncing perceived threats to the good ordering of the social fabric. In western societies, many of which may be constructed as post-marriage, illegitimate is often applied as a descriptor to unlicensed migrants, refugees and asylum seekers. In countries subject to war and conflict, rape as a war crime is increasingly used by armies to create fractures within the subject community and to undermine the paternity of a cohort of children. In societies where extramarital sex is prohibited, or where rape has been used as a weapon of war, the bastard acts as physical evidence that an unsanctioned act has been committed and the laws of society broken, a “failure in social control” (Laslett, Oosterveen and Smith, 5). This paper explores these themes, using past conceptions of the illegitimate and bastardy as an explanatory concept for problematic aspects of legitimacy in contemporary culture.Bastardy was a particularly important issue in sixteenth and seventeenth century Europe when an individual’s genealogy was a major determining factor of social status, property and identity (MacFarlane). Further, illegitimacy was not necessarily an aspect of a person’s birth. It could become a status into which they were thrust through the use of divorce, for example, as when Henry VIII illegitimised his daughter Mary after annulling his marriage to Mary’s mother, Catherine of Aragon. Alison Findlay’s study of illegitimacy in Renaissance literature lists over 70 portrayals of illegitimacy, or characters threatened with illegitimacy, between 1588 and 1652 (253–257). In addition to illegitimacy at an individual level however, discussions around what constitutes the “illegitimate” figure in terms of its relationship with the family and the wider community, are also applicable to broader concerns over national identity. In work such as Stages of History, Phyllis Rackin dissected images of masculine community present in Shakespeare’s history plays to expose underlying tensions over gender, power and identity. As the study of Henry V indicates in the following discussion, illegitimacy was also a metaphor brought to bear on issues of national as well as personal identity in the early modern era. The image of the nation as a “family” to denote unity and security, both then and now, is rendered complex and problematic by introducing the “illegitimate” into that nation-family image. The rhetoric used in the recent debate over the Scottish independence referendum, and in Australia’s ongoing controversy over “illegitimate” migration, both indicate that the concept of a “national bastard”, an amorphous figure that resists precise definition, remains a potent rhetorical force. Before turning to the detail of Henry V, it is useful to review the use of “illegitimate” in the early modern context. Lacking an established position within a family, a bastard was in danger of being marginalised and deprived of any but the most basic social identity. If acknowledged by a family, the bastard might become a drain on that family’s economic resources, drawing money away from legitimate children and resented accordingly. Such resentment may be reciprocated. In his essay “On Envy” the scientist, author, lawyer and eventually Lord Chancellor of England Francis Bacon explained the destructive impulse of bastardy as follows: “Deformed persons, and eunuchs, and old men, and bastards, are envious. For he that cannot possibly mend his own case will do what he can to impair another’s.” Thus, bastardy becomes a plot device which can be used to explain and to rationalise evil. In early modern English literature, as today, bastardy as a defect of birth is only one meaning for the word. What does “in everything illegitimate” (quoting Shakespeare’s character Thersites in Troilus and Cressida [V.viii.8]) mean for our understanding of both our own society and that of the late sixteenth century? Bastardy is an important ideologeme, in that it is a “unit of meaning through which the ‘social space’ constructs the ideological values of its signs” (Schleiner, 195). In other words, bastardy has an ideological significance that stretches far beyond a question of parental marital status, extending to become a metaphor for national as well as personal loss of identity. Anti-Catholic polemicists of the early sixteenth century accused priests of begetting a generation of bastards that would overthrow English society (Fish, 7). The historian Polydore Vergil was accused of suborning and bastardising English history by plagiarism and book destruction: “making himself father to other men’s works” (Hay, 159). Why is illegitimacy so important and so universal a metaphor? The term “bastard” in its sense of mixture or mongrel has been applied to language, to weaponry, to almost anything that is a distorted but recognisable version of something else. As such, the concept of bastardy lends itself readily to the rhetorical figure of metaphor which, as the sixteenth century writer George Puttenham puts it, is “a kind of wresting of a single word from his owne right signification, to another not so natural, but yet of some affinitie or coueniencie with it” (Puttenham, 178). Later on in The Art of English Poesie, Puttenham uses the word “bastard” to describe something that can best be recognised as being an imperfect version of something else: “This figure [oval] taketh his name of an egge […] and is as it were a bastard or imperfect rounde declining toward a longitude.” (101). “Bastard” as a descriptive term in this context has meaning because it connects the subject of discussion with its original. Michael Neill takes an anthropological approach to the question of why the bastard in early modern drama is almost invariably depicted as monstrous or evil. In “In everything illegitimate: Imagining the Bastard in Renaissance Drama,” Neill argues that bastards are “filthy”, using the term as it is construed by Mary Douglas in her work Purity and Danger. Douglas argues that dirt is defined by being where it should not be, it is “matter in the wrong place, belonging to ‘a residual category, rejected from our normal scheme of classifications,’ a source of fundamental pollution” (134). In this argument the figure of the bastard aligns strongly with the concept of the Other (Said). Arguably, however, the anthropologist Edmund Leach provides a more useful model to understand the associations of hybridity, monstrosity and bastardy. In “Animal Categories and Verbal Abuse”, Leach asserts that our perceptions of the world around us are largely based on binary distinctions; that an object is one thing, and is not another. If an object combines attributes of itself with those of another, the interlapping area will be suppressed so that there may be no hesitation in discerning between them. This repressed area, the area which is neither one thing nor another but “liminal” (40), becomes the object of fear and of fascination: – taboo. It is this liminality that creates anxiety surrounding bastards, as they occupy the repressed, “taboo” area between family and outsiders. In that it is born out of wedlock, the bastard child has no place within the family structure; yet as the child of a family member it cannot be completely relegated to the external world. Michael Neill rightly points out the extent to which the topos of illegitimacy is associated with the disintegration of boundaries and a consequent loss of coherence and identity, arguing that the bastard is “a by-product of the attempt to define and preserve a certain kind of social order” (147). The concept of the liminal figure, however, recognises that while a by-product can be identified and eliminated, a bastard can neither be contained nor excluded. Consequently, the bastard challenges the established order; to be illegitimate, it must retain its connection with the legitimate figure from which it diverges. Thus the illegitimate stands as a permanent threat to the legitimate, a reminder of what the legitimate can become. Bastardy is used by Shakespeare to indicate the fear of loss of national as well as personal identity. Although noted for its triumphalist construction of a hero-king, Henry V is also shot through with uncertainties and fears, fears which are frequently expressed using illegitimacy as a metaphor. Notwithstanding its battle scenes and militarism, it is the lawyers, genealogists and historians who initiate and drive forward the narrative in Henry V (McAlindon, 435). The reward of the battle for Henry is not so much the crown of France as the assurance of his own legitimacy as monarch. The lengthy and legalistic recital of genealogies with which the Archbishop of Canterbury proves to general English satisfaction that their English king Henry holds a better lineal right to the French throne than its current occupant may not be quite as “clear as is the summer sun” (Henry V 1.2.83), but Henry’s question about whether he may “with right and conscience” make his claim to the French throne elicits a succinct response. The churchmen tell Henry that, in order to demonstrate that he is truly the descendant of his royal forefathers, Henry will need to validate that claim. In other words, the legitimacy of Henry’s identity, based on his connection with the past, is predicated on his current behaviour:Gracious lord,Stand for your own; unwind your bloody flag;Look back into your mighty ancestors:Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire’s tomb,From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit…Awake remembrance of these valiant dead,And with your puissant arm renew their feats:You are their heir, you sit upon their throne,The blood and courage that renowned themRuns in your veins….Your brother kings and monarchs of the earthDo all expect that you should rouse yourselfAs did the former lions of your blood. (Henry V 1.2.122 – 124)These exhortations to Henry are one instance of the importance of genealogy and its immediate connection to personal and national identity. The subject recurs throughout the play as French and English characters both invoke a discourse of legitimacy and illegitimacy to articulate fears of invasion, defeat, and loss of personal and national identity. One particular example of this is the brief scene in which the French royalty allow themselves to contemplate the prospect of defeat at the hands of the English:Fr. King. ‘Tis certain, he hath pass’d the river Somme.Constable. And if he be not fought withal, my lord,Let us not live in France; let us quit all,And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.Dauphin. O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays of us,The emptying of our fathers’ luxury,Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds,And overlook their grafters?Bourbon. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!...Dauphin. By faith and honour,Our madams mock at us, and plainly sayOur mettle is bred out; and they will giveTheir bodies to the lust of English youthTo new-store France with bastard warriors. (Henry V 3.5.1 – 31).Rape and sexual violence pervade the language of Henry V. France itself is constructed as a sexually vulnerable female with “womby vaultages” and a “mistress-court” (2.4.131, 140). In one of his most famous speeches Henry graphically describes the rape and slaughter that accompanies military defeat (3.3). Reading Henry V solely in terms of its association of military conquest with sexual violence, however, runs the risk of overlooking the image of bastards themselves as both the threat and the outcome of national defeat. The lines quoted above exemplify the extent to which illegitimacy was a vital metaphor within early modern discourses of national as well as personal identity. Although the lines are divided between various speakers – the French King, Constable (representing the law), Dauphin (the Crown Prince) and Bourbon (representing the aristocracy) – the images develop smoothly and consistently to express English dominance and French subordination, articulated through images of illegitimacy.The dialogue begins with the most immediate consequence of invasion and of illegitimacy: the loss of property. Legitimacy, illegitimacy and property were so closely associated that a case of bastardy brought to the ecclesiastical court that did not include a civil law suit about land was referred to as a case of “bastardy speciall”, and the association between illegitimacy and property is present in this speech (Cowell, 14). The use of the word “vine” is simultaneously a metonym for France and a metaphor for the family, as in the “family tree”, conflating the themes of family identity and national identity that are both threatened by the virile English forces.As the dialogue develops, the rhetoric becomes more elaborate. The vines which for the Constable (from a legal perspective) represented both France and French families become instead an attempt to depict the English as being of a subordinate breed. The Dauphin’s brief narrative of the English origins refers to the illegitimate William the Conqueror, bastard son of the Duke of Normandy and by designating the English as being descendants of a bastard Frenchman the Dauphin attempts to depict the English nation as originating from a superabundance of French virility; wild offshoots from a true stock. Yet “grafting” one plant to another can create a stronger plant, which is what has happened here. The Dauphin’s metaphors, designed to construct the English as an unruly and illegitimate offshoot of French society, a product of the overflowing French virility, evolve instead into an emblem of a younger, stronger branch which has overtaken its enfeebled origins.In creating this scene, Shakespeare constructs the Frenchmen as being unable to contain the English figuratively, still less literally. The attempts to reduce the English threat by imagining them as “a few sprays”, a product of casual sexual excess, collapses into Bourbon’s incoherent ejaculation: “Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!” and the Norman bastard dominates the conclusion of the scene. Instead of containing and marginalising the bastard, the metaphoric language creates and acknowledges a threat which cannot be marginalised. The “emptying of luxury” has engendered an uncontrollable illegitimate who will destroy the French nation beyond any hope of recovery, overrunning France with bastards.The scene is fascinating for its use of illegitimacy as a means of articulating fears not only for the past and present but also for the future. The Dauphin’s vision is one of irreversible national and familial disintegration, irreversible because, unlike rape, the French women’s imagined rejection of their French families and embrace of the English conquerors implies a total abandonment of family origins and the willing creation of a new, illegitimate dynasty. Immediately prior to this scene the audience has seen the Dauphin’s fear in action: the French princess Katherine is shown learning to speak English as part of her preparation for giving her body to a “bastard Norman”, a prospect which she anticipates with a frisson of pleasure and humour, as well as fear. This scene, between Katherine and her women, evokes a range of powerful anxieties which appear repeatedly in the drama and texts of the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries: anxieties over personal and national identity, over female chastity and masculine authority, and over continuity between generations. Peter Laslett in The World We Have Lost – Further Explored points out that “the engendering of children on a scale which might threaten the social structure was never, or almost never, a present possibility” (154) at this stage of European history. This being granted, the Dauphin’s depiction of such a “wave” of illegitimates, while it might have no roots in reality, functioned as a powerful image of disorder. Illegitimacy as a threat and as a strategy is not limited to the renaissance, although a study of renaissance texts offers a useful guidebook to the use of illegitimacy as a means of polarising and excluding. Although as previously discussed, for many Western countries, the marital status of one’s parents is probably the least meaningful definition associated with the word “illegitimate”, the concept of the nation as a family remains current in modern political discourse, and illegitimate continues to be a powerful metaphor. During the recent independence referendum in Scotland, David Cameron besought the Scottish people not to “break up the national family”; at the same time, the Scottish Nationalists have been constructed as “ungrateful bastards” for wishing to turn their backs on the national family. As Klocker and Dunne, and later O’Brien and Rowe, have demonstrated, the emotive use of words such as “illegitimate” and “illegal” in Australian political rhetoric concerning migration is of long standing. Given current tensions, it might be timely to call for a further and more detailed study of the way in which the term “illegitimate” continues to be used by politicians and the media to define, demonise and exclude certain types of would-be Australian immigrants from the collective Australian “national family”. Suggestions that persons suspected of engaging with terrorist organisations overseas should be stripped of their Australian passports imply the creation of national bastards in an attempt to distance the Australian community from such threats. But the strategy can never be completely successful. Constructing figures as bastard or the illegitimate remains a method by which the legitimate seeks to define itself, but it also means that the bastard or illegitimate can never be wholly separated or cast out. In one form or another, the bastard is here to stay.ReferencesBeardon, Elizabeth. “Sidney's ‘Mongrell Tragicomedy’ and Anglo-Spanish Exchange in the New Arcadia.” Journal for Early Modern Cultural Studies 10 (2010): 29 - 51.Davis, Kingsley. “Illegitimacy and the Social Structure.” American Journal of Sociology 45 (1939).John Cowell. The Interpreter. Cambridge: John Legate, 1607.Greenblatt, Stephen. Renaissance Self-Fashioning: From More to Shakespeare. 1980. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005.Findlay, Alison. Illegitimate Power: Bastards in Renaissance Drama. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009.Hay, Denys. Polydore Vergil: Renaissance Historian and Man of Letters. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1952.Laslett, Peter. The World We Have Lost - Further Explored. London: Methuen, 1983.Laslett, P., K. Oosterveen, and R. M. Smith, eds. Bastardy and Its Comparative History. 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