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Questions about the meaning of womanhood and femininity loomed large in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century French culture. In Playing Cleopatra, Holly Grout uses the theater--specifically, Parisian stage performances of the Egyptian queen Cleopatra by Sarah Bernhardt, Colette, and Josephine Baker--to explore these cultural and political debates. How and why did portrayals of Cleopatra influence French attitudes regarding race, sexuality, and gender? To what extent did Bernhardt, Colette, and Baker manipulate the image of Cleopatra to challenge social norms and to generate new models of womanhood? Why was Cleopatra--an ancient, mythologized queen--the chosen vehicle for these spectacular expressions of modern womanhood? In the context of late nineteenth-century Egyptomania, Cleopatra's eroticized image--as well as her controversial legacy of female empowerment--resonated in new ways with a French public engaged in reassessing feminine sexuality, racialized beauty, and national identity. By playing Cleopatra, Bernhardt, Colette, and Baker did more than personify a character; they embodied the myriad ways in which celebrity was racialized, gendered, and commoditized, and they generated a model of female stardom that set the stage for twentieth-century celebrity long before the Hollywood machine's mass manufacture of "stars." At the same time, these women engaged with broader debates regarding the meaning of womanhood, celebrity, and Frenchness in the tumultuous decades before World War II. Drawing on plays, periodicals, autobiographies, personal letters, memoirs, novels, works of art, and legislation, Playing Cleopatra contributes to a growing body of literature that examines how individuals subverted the prevailing gender norms that governed relations between the sexes in liberal democratic regimes. By offering employment, visibility, and notoriety, the theater provided an especially empowering world for women, in which the roles they played both reflected and challenged contemporary cultural currents. Through the various iterations in which Bernhardt, Colette, and Baker played Cleopatra, they not only resurrected an ancient queen but also appropriated her mystique to construct new narratives of womanhood.

"A poem is an act of faith because the poet believes in it," contends John Wall Barger in The Elephant of Silence, a collection of essays exploring forms of knowing (and not knowing) that awaken a poetic mind. By considering poetry, film, and the intersections among aesthetic moments and our lives, Barger illuminates the foundations of poetic craft but also probes how to be alive, creative, and open in the world. Each piece investigates unanswerable questions and indefinable words: Lorca's duende, Nabokov's poshlost, Bash¿'s underglimmer, Huizinga's ludic, Tarkovsky's Zona. Influenced by poets such as Glück and Ruefle, and filmmakers such as Kubrick and Lynch, Barger writes--first always sharing his own personal life stories--on the nature of perception, experience, and the human mind. With lyric eloquence and disarming candor, The Elephant of Silence tackles how to live an imaginative life, how to gravitate toward the silence from which art comes, and how the mystical is also the everyday.

A revelatory collection of poems set in the Gulf South, Carolyn Hembree's For Today chronicles the experience of a woman who becomes a mother shortly after her father's death and struggles to raise her child amid private and public turmoil. Written in closed and nonce forms that give way to the field composition of the maximalist title poem, the work explores grief, rage, and love in a community vulnerable to Anthropocene climate disasters. Through relationships with her daughter, neighbors, friends, ancestors, other poets (living and dead), and the earth, the speaker is freed to accept and celebrate her own perishability.

On the Overnight Train collects a lifetime of thought and writing by Alice Friman, presenting poems of passion and permission, gravity and humor, alongside a great deal of truth telling peppered with the salt of invention. Here even the dead clink glasses and remain as alive and present as ever. Here the old stories abide and the new ones, written at the tail end of a life, face the inevitable with clear-eyed candor, wit, and grace. As Stephen Corey writes in his introduction, "Friman's poetry is still kicking ass and breaking hearts as she steams toward ninety," and On the Overnight Train captures the world of a distinctive poet whose work is vivid, understandable, and emotionally honest.

How to Drown a Boy, a debut collection of poems by J. Bruce Fuller, investigates how boyhood and fatherhood entwine to create cycles that mimic decaying and dangerous natural surroundings. The woods, the water, the oil rigs, and the men who work them all have a powerful effect on the speaker from childhood through adulthood. These poems examine the weight of family and culture against a backdrop of climate change and environmental disaster

In Ghostlight, a long-awaited second collection of original poems by Ryan Wilson, considers the haunting of the contemporary mind. With virtuosic formal variety and masterful craft, these poems range from rural America to Italy to the Holy Land, as they chronicle the dynamism of a spiritual odyssey toward the eternal through both past and present. Wilson employs sonnets, Pindaric and ballad stanzas, alliterative hemistichs in imitation of the Anglo-Saxon, and other ancient forms to enlighten the modern experience, from smartphones and Facebook to jumbo jets, entangled in a reciprocal relationship with myths, sacred literature, and traditions. Revealing that the past and the everlasting can inform the present at any given moment, In Ghostlight conveys how a vision acknowledging this dual illumination helps us understand ourselves and others in our fraught, complex era.

Could the shlock-rock '70s band Kiss in any way affect the outcome of a death-dealing twenty-first-century virus? Is Bob Ross--that permed, inimitable painter of Edenic nostalgia on PBS--actually an emissary from the land of personal loss? Might the work of Edward Hopper reflect facets of a global plague? What is the grammar, finally, of grief, of isolation? The essays in Chad Davidson's Bring Out Your Dead: Elegies from the Plague Year mainly concern the loss of the author's father directly before the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, and the ways in which the pandemic itself provided a strangely ideal backdrop to grieving. Refracted through the kaleidoscopic, yet strangely stagnant, isolation period in the first year of COVID, his father's death--another plague visited on the author--found its way into all his waking hours, coloring whatever he tried to write, particularly when he tried not to let it. Friends both lost and nearly so, the burning of Notre Dame in Paris, even the seemingly inconsequential discovery of a rash of chew toys in the yard: these events assumed an unmistakable gravity, considered in the midst of a pandemic and the ruins of personal grief. Bring Out Your Dead adds Davidson's father to the growing list of loved ones lost in--and, in this case, right before--the pandemic. It's a personal memorial, given over to a father's memory and the grief endured while living through dueling plagues (one viral, the other psychological). In the end, the book becomes more about the ways we eulogize, how we remember those who are gone, why their memories persist, and what summons them back into our thoughts, our language, and our lives.

Equal parts elegy and ode, Newly Not Eternal explores the startling suffering and sentiment implicit in human mortality. At the heart of this collection, a son has died on the cusp of his first breath, but the book's stakes are larger and more universal than a single, silent, foreshortened life. Ranging from personal lyrics to monologues in persona, from triolets to a modified crown of sonnets, from surreal fantasy to natural landscape, George David Clark's poems sing of the brutality of time and the beauty that transcends it.

Mom in Space is a complicated love letter to both the intergalactic and the terrestrial. Using the lens of spaceflight, Lisa Ampleman explores subjects ranging from the personal to the political, from fertility tests and parenting to climate change and civil rights.As NASA and commercial space companies gear up for Artemis missions to the moon, Mom in Space offers new conceptions of women in space, incorporating both fictional and real female astronauts, among them the first mom in space (Anna Fisher) and the first Black woman in space (Mae Jemison). With a sense of both awe and informed inquiry, Mom in Space considers what spaceflight means not just for those who get rocketed into space but for those who stay home.

Military uniforms, badges, flags, and other material objects have been used to represent the identity of Americans throughout history. In The Fabric of Civil War Society, Shae Smith Cox examines the material culture of America's bloodiest conflict, offering a deeper understanding of the war and its commemoration. Cox's analysis traces the influence of sewn materials throughout the Civil War and Reconstruction as markers of power and authority for both the Union and the Confederacy. These textiles became cherished objects by the turn of the century, a transition seen in veterans replacing wartime uniforms with new commemorative attire and repatriating Confederate battle flags. Looking specifically at the creation of material culture by various commemoration groups, including the Grand Army of the Republic, the Woman's Relief Corps, the United Confederate Veterans, and the United Daughters of the Confederacy, Cox reveals the ways that American society largely accepted their messages, furthering the mission of their memory work. Through the lens of material culture, Cox sheds new light on a variety of Civil War topics, including preparation for war, nuances in relationships between Native American and African American soldiers, the roles of women, and the rise of postwar memorial societies.

From discursive essay-poems to tightly constructed lyrics, Ed Falco's X in the Tickseed examines a world that reveals itself through its mysteries, reflecting upon the ephemeral nature of all things. In the series of poems that bookend the collection, a speaker identified only as X reviews personal history and relationships, speculating, pondering, and questioning in the face of a baffling universe. Peppered between the X poems, artists as varied as Artemisia Gentileschi, Frank O'Connor, and Nick Cave surface, usually in poems posing as essays about their art. Other poems range from explorations of cultural perspective, as in "A Few Words to a Young American Killed in the Tet Offensive," where a war resister addresses a young man of his generation who died in Vietnam, to the often playful "An Alphabet of Things." Throughout, Falco's poems speculate on matters of life and faith, intensified by an awareness of death.

Frank J. Wetta and Martin A. Novelli's Abraham Lincoln and Women in Film investigates how depictions of women in Hollywood motion pictures helped forge the myth of Lincoln. Exploring female characters' backstories, the political and cultural climate in which the films appeared, and the contest between the moviemakers' imaginations and the varieties of historical truth, Wetta and Novelli place the women in Lincoln's life at the center of the study, including his mother, Nancy Hanks Lincoln; his stepmother, Sarah Bush Lincoln; his lost loves, Ann Rutledge and Mary Owens; and his wife and widow, Mary Todd Lincoln. Later, while inspecting Lincoln's legacy, they focus on the 1930s child actor Shirley Temple and the 1950s movie star Marilyn Monroe, who had a well-publicized fascination with the sixteenth president. Wetta and Novelli's work is the first to deal extensively with the women in Lincoln's life, both those who interacted with him personally and those appearing on screen. It is also among the first works to examine how scholarly and popular biography influenced depictions of Lincoln, especially in film.

The Union Generals Speak is the first annotated edition of the 1864 congressional investigation into Major General George Gordon Meade's conduct during the Gettysburg campaign. The transcripts alone, which present eyewitness accounts from sixteen participant officers at Gettysburg, offer a wealth of information about the what and the why of one of the most pivotal battles in American history; but it is the addition of contextual comments and background material by Bill Hyde that unleashes this virtually untapped resource for readers. Laden with ulterior motives, prejudices, faulty recollection, and outright lies, the Joint Committee on the Conduct of the War's report is a minefield of inaccuracies. Hyde's comprehensive analysis, informed by recent scholarship, transforms it into an accessible, rewarding aid for students of the Gettysburg chapter in the Civil War. In the course of the volume, Hyde gives thorough examination to the origins and purpose of the Joint Committee on the Conduct of the War, the political climate and military thinking in Washington at the time of the Meade hearings, and the hidden agendas of the witnesses and seven committee members. He maintains that the JCCW's dissatisfaction with Meade went much deeper than disapproval of the general's hesitancy to pursue and cripple Lee's Army of Northern Virginia on July 4, 1863--a failure that disappointed every northern citizen from Lincoln to the ordinary soldier. The bipartisan body of mostly radical Republicans who favored a ruthless defeat of the South aimed, Hyde shows, to restore power to the committee's favorite, Major General Joseph Hooker, whom Meade had succeeded as commander of the Army of the Potomac only three days before Gettysburg. The unfolding of the Gettysburg campaign, the career of General Meade, and the North's highly politicized method of warmaking all receive new illumination in The Union General's Speak. Hyde's balanced critique of this important primary source reminds us that though Meade is remembered now mainly for his role in defeating the Confederates at Gettysburg, the JCCW hearings confirmed that he was not the leader to win the war.

As Spain and England vied for dominance of the Atlantic world during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, mounting political and religious tensions between the two empires raised a troubling specter for contemporary British writers attempting to justify early English imperial efforts. Specifically, these writers focused on encounters with black Africans throughout the Atlantic world, attempting to use these points of contact to articulate and defend England's global ambitions. In Black Africans in the British Imagination, Cassander L. Smith investigates how the physical presence of black Africans both enabled and disrupted English literary responses to Spanish imperialism. By examining the extent to which this population helped to shape early English narratives, from political pamphlets to travelogues, Smith offers new perspectives on the literary, social, and political impact of black Africans in the early Atlantic world. With detailed analysis of the earliest English-language accounts from the Atlantic world, including writings by Sir Francis Drake, Sir Walter Ralegh, and Richard Ligon, Smith approaches contact narratives from the perspective of black Africans, recovering figures often relegated to the margins. This interdisciplinary study explores understandings of race and cross-cultural interaction and revises notions of whiteness, blackness, and indigeneity. Smith reveals the extent to which contact with black Africans impeded English efforts to stigmatize the Spanish empire as villainous and to malign Spain's administration of its colonies. In addition, her study illustrates how black presences influenced the narrative choices of European (and later Euro-American) writers, providing a more nuanced understanding of black Africans' role in contemporary literary productions of the region.

Seventeen years after Robert E. Lee's surrender at Appomattox, one final, dramatic confrontation occurred between the Lee family and the United States government. In The Last Battle of the Civil War, Anthony J. Gaughan recounts the fascinating saga of United States v. Lee, known to history as the "Arlington Case." Prior to the Civil War, Mary Lee, Robert E. Lee's wife, owned the estate that Arlington National Cemetery rests on today. After the attack on Fort Sumter, however, the Union army seized the Lees' Arlington home and converted it into a national cemetery as well as a refugee camp for runaway slaves. In 1877 George Washington Custis Lee, Robert and Mary's eldest son, filed suit demanding that the federal government pay the Lees just compensation for Arlington. In response, the Justice Department asserted that sovereign immunity barred Lee and all other private plaintiffs from bringing Fifth Amendment takings cases. The courts, the government claimed, had no jurisdiction to hear such lawsuits. In a historic ruling, the Supreme Court rejected the government's argument. As the majority opinion explained, "All the officers of the government, from the highest to the lowest, are creatures of the law and are bound to obey it." The ruling made clear that the government was legally obligated by the Fifth Amendment to pay just compensation to the Lees. The Court's ruling in United States v. Lee affirmed the principle that the rule of law applies equally to ordinary citizens and high government officials. As the justices emphasized, the Constitution is not suspended in wartime and government officials who violate the law are not beyond the reach of justice. Ironically, the case also represented a watershed on the path of sectional reconciliation. By ruling in favor of the Lee family, the justices demonstrated that former Confederates would receive a fair hearing in the federal courts. Gaughan provides a riveting account of the Civil War's final battle, a struggle whose outcome became a significant step on the path to national reunion.

An underlying cynicism lies at the heart of the questions asked by Chelsea Dingman's I, Divided: What is a life worth? Today. Now. Why is that? Who gives anyone permission to be? And how is that determined? In poems that use the science behind chaos theory as a lens for examining illness and agency, Dingman explores the divide between determination and accident, whereby the body becomes a site of exploration as well as elegy in cases of disease such as traumatic brain injury, cancer, and addiction. Much like weather patterns, inherited histories of violence and disease are cyclical. They remain at once determined and yet undetermined, becoming ultimately chaotic. The "I" of the title is fractured over several divides, subordinated to illness and to a past that is invariable, though finally morphs as an agent of change. I, Divided operates as if within a swirling hurricane, beginning and ending amid the same human concerns, tracing a life cycle and its repetition.

The Professor of Forgetting, a new collection from the acclaimed Irish poet Greg Delanty, swings back and forth on the fulcrum of what we call "now" and confronts our notion of how time passes. From the very first poem, "Going Nowhere Fast," which ponders whether we are now here or going nowhere, to the final selection, from which the book takes its self-reflective title, these exuberant poems chronicle what it means to be human with joy, pathos, honesty, despair, sorrow, celebration, and wit. Structurally diverse in form, the poems also explore a range of poignant topics, including childhood, family, love, racism, the natural world, immigration, and the unavoidability of death. Often humorous, Delanty's poetry finds ways of coping with the challenges of life, as it makes lasting art out of heartbreaking difficulty and experience.

Alabama focuses on a boy from a rural, fundamentalist community who becomes a pacifist, feminist, and existentialist poet. Labyrinth, meditation, fable, and peasant poem, formed from interleaved strands of prose vignettes and lineated poetry, this collection is at once a tale of cultural exile and familial loyalty, and an unflinching look at regional shame that doubles as a love story, all expressed with the intimate voice and vision of Rodney Jones.

In The Politics of Faith during the Civil War, Timothy L. Wesley examines the engagement of both northern and southern preachers in politics during the American Civil War, revealing an era of denominational, governmental, and public scrutiny of religious leaders. Controversial ministers risked ostracism within the local community, censure from church leaders, and arrests by provost marshals or local police. In contested areas of the Upper Confederacy and Border Union, ministers occasionally faced deadly violence for what they said or would not say from their pulpits. Even silence on political issues did not guarantee a preacher's security, as both sides arrested clergymen who defied the dictates of civil and military authorities by refusing to declare their loyalty in sermons or to pray for the designated nation, army, or president. The generation that fought the Civil War lived in arguably the most sacralized culture in the history of the United States. The participation of church members in the public arena meant that ministers wielded great authority. Wesley outlines the scope of that influence and considers, conversely, the feared outcomes of its abuse. By treating ministers as both individual men of conscience and leaders of religious communities, Wesley reveals that the reticence of otherwise loyal ministers to bring politics into the pulpit often grew not out of partisan concerns but out of doctrinal, historical, and local factors. The Politics of Faith during the Civil War sheds new light on the political motivations of homefront clergymen during wartime, revealing how and why the Civil War stands as the nation's first concerted campaign to check the ministry's freedom of religious expression.

From its founding in 1906, the Louisiana State University Law School has offered its students a truly distinctive legal education. Integrated programs in Louisiana's unique civil law, in Anglo-American common law and federal law, and in international and comparative law create a global law curriculum recognized for both its academic excellence and its outstanding teaching, research, and public service faculty. In LSU Law, alumnus and professor W. Lee Hargrave chronicles the first seventy years of this institution--from its opening classes to the death of its longtime dean, Paul M. Hebert, and its transformation into an autonomous Law Center. He reveals the faces and forces that have helped to create the special mystique surrounding the school and the significance attached to a law degree from LSU. After an initial discussion of the legal profession in Louisiana before the establishment of formal academic instruction, Hargrave maps the school's growth and development. He charts the organizational difficulties of the early years, reputation building in the twenties, politically influenced extravagance in the thirties, wartime challenges in the forties, return to normalcy in the fifties, steady growth in the sixties, and overcrowding in the seventies. Throughout, he explores all aspects of the school--its administrators and faculty, student body, shifting admission requirements, curriculum, grading system debates, influence on Louisiana's legal community and state government, and much more. He also describes how students lived and learned during each era and discusses the effects of outside people and events--including Huey P. Long, World War II, and the civil rights movement--on the school. Hargrave tells the history of the LSU Law School in the context of changes that occurred in legal education throughout the United States, making his work of interest to legal historians and the national law school community. Alumni will also appreciate this detailed study of what has become a Louisiana institution.

In The Cemeteries of New Orleans, Peter B. Dedek reveals the origins and evolution of the Crescent City's world-famous necropolises, exploring both their distinctive architecture and their cultural impact. Drawing on a fascinating body of research, Dedek takes readers from muddy fields of crude burial markers to extravagantly designed cities of the dead, illuminating a vital and vulnerable piece of New Orleans's identity. Where many histories of New Orleans cemeteries focus on the famous people buried within them, Dedek sets his sights on the marble cutters, burial society members, journalists, and tourists who shaped these graveyards into internationally recognizable emblems of the city. In his detailed exploration of cemetery architecture, Dedek reveals the impacts of ancient and medieval grave traditions and styles, the city's geography, and the arrival of trained European tomb designers, such as the French architect J. N. B. de Pouilly in 1833 and Italian artist and architect Pietro Gualdi in 1851. As Dedek shows, the nineteenth century was a particularly critical era in the city's cemetery design. Traditional French and Spanish patterns prevailed until the first garden cemetery--Metairie Cemetery--was built on the site of an old racetrack in 1872. Like the older walled cemeteries, this iconic venue served as a lavish expression of fraternal and ethnic unity, a backdrop to exuberant social celebrations, and a destination for sightseers. During this time, cultural and religious customs, such as the celebration of All Saints' Day and the practice of Voodoo rituals, flourished within the spatial bounds of these resting places. Over the course of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, however, episodes of neglect and destruction gave rise to groups that aimed to preserve the historic cemeteries of New Orleans--an endeavor that, according to Dedek, is still wanting for resources and political will. Containing abundant illustrations, The Cemeteries of New Orleans is a comprehensive and intriguing resource on these fascinating historic sites.

"Although relatively unknown today, Martin Behrman dominated New Orleans politics in the early twentieth century, serving as mayor from 1904 to 1920 and again in 1925 for a brief period before his death. His political organization--loosely referred to as 'The Regulars,' 'The Old Regulars,' or 'The Choctaw Club'--was in complete control of the city during a period of rapid change. Behrman's model of government, often called 'Behrmanism' by detractors, was a pragmatic hybrid of machine politics, progressive reform, populism, and federalism that eventually found its way into Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal and Huey Long's political platform. The Boss of New Orleans is a masterful examination of Behrman's remarkable life and political career, during which he rose from the orphaned son of immigrant parents to the Crescent City's undisputed leader. As mayor, he blended consensus building with the exercise of raw power in ways that few politicians of the era could match, allowing him to navigate numerous controversial events, including the implementation of national prohibition and the forced closure of Storyville, the city's red-light district. Behrman successfully managed the city's last epidemic of yellow fever and built new schools and infrastructure that moved New Orleans along the path of modernity, earning a reputation as a hard-working, detail-oriented manager of city and machine affairs. As Criss demonstrates, with the singular--and deeply troubling--exception of the disenfranchisement of Black voters, Behrman led an era of truly progressive change in the Crescent City"

In The Sentence, Morri Creech interrogates our daily lives and experiences to examine the anxieties and despair that often attend our awareness of mortality. Through a variety of subjects, and through styles ranging from rhyme and meter to prose poetry, he takes an unflinching look at what it means to live in the shadow of the end, the common fate to which each of us is sentenced.

Though it ended more than thirty years ago, the Cold War still casts a long shadow over American society. Red Reckoning examines how the great ideological conflict of the twentieth century transformed the nation and forced Americans to reconsider almost every aspect of their society, culture, and identity. Using an interdisciplinary approach, the volume's contributors examine a broad array of topics, including the Cold War's impact on national security, race relations, gun culture and masculinity, law, college football, advertising, music, film, free speech, religion, and even board games. Above all, Red Reckoning brings a vitally important era back to life for those who lived through it and for students and scholars wishing to understand it.

For two centuries, nearly all historical accounts of American theatre have focused on New York, Boston, and Philadelphia. As a result, the story of theatre on the frontier consists primarily of regional studies with limited scope. Thomas A. Bogar's Theatre on the American Frontier provides an overdue, balanced treatment of the accomplishments of the troupes working in the trans-Appalachian West. From its origins in late eighteenth-century Pittsburgh, New Orleans, and Louisville, frontier theatre grew by the close of the nineteenth century to encompass more than a dozen centers of vibrant theatrical activity. Audiences--mainly pioneers struggling with the hardships of establishing a life in the backcountry--enjoyed thrilling melodramas, the comedies of George Colman the Younger and John O'Keeffe, and even the tragedies of William Shakespeare. Theatre companies that ventured into this challenging and unfamiliar territory did so with a combination of daring and determination. Bogar's comprehensive study brings this neglected history into the spotlight, cementing these figures and their theatrical productions and practices in their rightful place.

"Frank Cirillo's "The Abolitionist Civil War" examines the dramatic transformation of the abolitionist movement during the American Civil War, specifically its far-reaching origins, shifting contours, and drastic consequences for both abolitionism and the nation."--

In the early modern British Atlantic world, the comparison of enslaved people to animals, particularly dogs, cattle, or horses, was a common device used by enslavers to dehumanize and otherwise reduce the existence of the enslaved. Letters, memoirs, and philosophical treatises of the enslaved and formerly enslaved bear testament to the methods used to dehumanize them. In Empire of Brutality, Christopher Michael Blakley explores how material relationships between enslaved people and animals bolstered the intellectual dehumanization of the enslaved. By reconsidering dehumanization in the light of human-animal relations, Blakley offers new insights into the horrific institution later challenged by Black intellectuals in multiple ways. Using the correspondence of the Royal African Company, specimen catalogs and scientific papers of the Royal Society, plantation inventories and manuals, and diaries kept by slaveholders, Blakley describes human-animal networks spanning from Britain's slave castles and outposts throughout western Africa to plantations in the Caribbean and American Southeast. They combine approaches from environmental history, history of science, and philosophy to examine slavery from the ground up and from the perspectives of the enslaved. Blakley's work reveals how African captives who became commodified through exchanges of cowry sea snails between slavers in the Bight of Benin later went on to collect zoological specimens in Barbados and Virginia for institutions such as the Royal Society. On plantations, where enslaved people labored alongside cattle, donkeys, horses, and other animals to make the agricultural fortunes of slaveholders, Blakley shows how the enslaved resisted these human-animal pairings by stealing animals for their own purposes--such as fugitives who escaped their slaveholder's grasp by riding stolen horses. Because of experiences like these, writers and thinkers of African descent who survived slavery later attacked the institution in public as fundamentally dehumanizing, one that corrupted the humanity of both slaveholders and the enslaved.