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An invaluable key to self-understanding, The Wounded Woman shows that by understanding the father-daughter wound, it is possible to achieve a fruitful, caring relationship between men and women, between fathers and daughters, a relationship that honors both the mutuality and the uniqueness of the sexes.

Although Anais Nin found in her diaries a profound mode of self-creation and confession, she could not reveal this intimate record of her own experiences during her lifetime. Instead, she turned to fiction, where her stories and novels became artistic "distillations" of her secret diaries.

Mirages opens at the dawn of World War II, when Anais Nin fled Paris, where she lived for fifteen years with her husband, banker Hugh Guiler, and ends in 1947 when she meets the man who would be "the One," the lover who would satisfy her insatiable hunger for connection.

In a series of intriguing routes through the English countryside, Professor Robert Cooper notes those attractions that the casual tourist might unknowingly pass by, such as the house where Dickens wrote A Tale of Two Cities, or the windswept quay where John Fowles's French Lieutenant's woman walked.

Anais Nin made her reputation through publication of her edited diaries and the carefully constructed persona they presented.

Blending historical fact and classical myth, the author of Zorba the Greek and The Last Temptation of Christ transports the reader 3,000 years into the past, to a pivotal point in history: the final days before the ancient kingdom of Minoan Crete is to be conquered and supplanted by the emerging city-state of Athens.

Although Under a Glass Bell is now considered one of Anais Nin's finest collections of stories, it was initially deemed unpublishable. Refusing to give up on her vision, in 1944 Nin founded her own press and brought out the first edition, illustrated with striking black-and-white engravings by her husband, Hugh Guiler.

One of the premier private collections of contemporary craft, the Nancy and David Wolf Collection features outstanding creations by the foremost artists working in craft media. This book introduces audiences to sixty-seven masterworks selected from this collection.

This "is the fifth and final volume of Anaèis Nin's continuous novel known as Cities of the Interior. First published by Swallow Press in 1961, the story follows the travels of the protagonist Lillian through the tropics to a Mexican city loosely based on Acapulco, which Nin herself visited in 1947 and described in the fifth volume of her Diary. As Lillian seeks the warmth and sensuality of this lush and intriguing city, she travels inward as well, learning that to free herself she must free the 'monster' that has been confined in a labyrinth of her subconscious. This new Swallow Press edition includes an introduction by Anita Jarczok"--

Projections of Dakar studies the audiovisual creations and practices of twenty-first-century Senegalese filmmakers living, working, and distributing their films in urban Senegal. Although some observers have described contemporary Senegalese cinema as a dying industry, this book shows that it retains great potential. Senegalese cinematic practitioners are forging unique, dynamic responses to social challenges and producing content in innovative forms. Like contemporary Senegalese cinema, African urban centers are often perceived as sites of despair and social decay. In each chapter of this book, Devin Bryson and Molly Krueger Enz focus on a particular urban issue and analyze how Senegalese filmmakers document and reimagine it from diverse perspectives and contexts. The authors draw from interviews and ethnographic observations to center filmmakers' practices and conceptualizations of contemporary cinema in Dakar. Bryson and Enz trace developments in production, distribution, viewership, and audience response since 2012 to study how these films and their production both reveal and contribute to how people live in the city, relate to one another, build their lives, advocate for change, find joy and meaning, and build community. They also document and articulate more equitable and inclusive forms of these activities. Ultimately, the book illustrates how Senegalese filmmakers reimagine Africa as a place that will lead to a better future for its inhabitants.

Projections of Dakar studies the audiovisual creations and practices of twenty-first-century Senegalese filmmakers living, working, and distributing their films in urban Senegal. Although some observers have described contemporary Senegalese cinema as a dying industry, this book shows that it retains great potential. Senegalese cinematic practitioners are forging unique, dynamic responses to social challenges and producing content in innovative forms. Like contemporary Senegalese cinema, African urban centers are often perceived as sites of despair and social decay. In each chapter of this book, Devin Bryson and Molly Krueger Enz focus on a particular urban issue and analyze how Senegalese filmmakers document and reimagine it from diverse perspectives and contexts. The authors draw from interviews and ethnographic observations to center filmmakers' practices and conceptualizations of contemporary cinema in Dakar. Bryson and Enz trace developments in production, distribution, viewership, and audience response since 2012 to study how these films and their production both reveal and contribute to how people live in the city, relate to one another, build their lives, advocate for change, find joy and meaning, and build community. They also document and articulate more equitable and inclusive forms of these activities. Ultimately, the book illustrates how Senegalese filmmakers reimagine Africa as a place that will lead to a better future for its inhabitants.

A little over two decades ago, Zimbabwe undertook its Fast Track Land Reform Programme. Critics saw it as nothing more than an assault on human and property rights for political expedience by a ruling elite that was fast losing its power. In contrast, those sympathetic to the land reform program saw it as fundamental to the righting of colonialism's historical wrongs. Yet, rural displacements at the hands of state actors, or of those closely connected to them, continue. As in the past, the continuing land conflicts are mostly understood as the result of the actions of an authoritarian state that exploits its control of land for the political and economic benefit of those who inhabit it. These explanations share one thing in common: each understands the country's perpetual land questions in terms of the actions or inactions of the colonial or the postcolonial state. This book refocuses attention on how regimes of power rooted in kinship, gender, generation, and status have, individually and in combination, informed access to land in precolonial northeastern Zimbabwe. It then examines how these regimes of power interacted with colonial policies to inform the African experience in colonial Zimbabwe. Further, the book places land and the ability to ensure its fecundity at the center of the making and moderation of precolonial political power and how this power was impacted by the imposition of colonial rule. Tracing the dynamics of land and power from precolonial times, together with their entanglement with colonial policies, is important, for this relationship is almost always neglected by both scholars and policymakers drawn to the high drama of colonial and postcolonial politics of land. This oversight has real consequences on our understandings of landed inequalities and how they are addressed. When Zimbabwe's postcolonial state focused on colonially induced racialized land inequalities, its land reform efforts left older forms of landed inequalities based on gender, generation, and ideas of belonging intact. The book, which details these inequalities, reminds Zimbabweans and others that if the quest for equity espoused in postcolonial land reforms is to be meaningful, it must be attentive to both colonially induced inequalities and those enduring disparities that predated, were deepened by, and outlived colonial rule. At the same time, Zimbabweans who now live with a postcolonial state that is increasingly centralizing power over land may well learn from past societies' creative efforts to limit the authority of their leaders.

Malaria on the Move explores the socioeconomic aspects of endemic malaria in the southeastern lowveld of Zimbabwe. The book provides a historical analysis of malaria control and eradication programs in Rhodesia and independent Zimbabwe from the late nineteenth century to 2015. Kundai Manamere draws connections between malaria epidemiology and human mobility relating to large- and small-scale farming, labor migration, colonial displacement, war, and rural-to-urban movements. She examines how circular labor migration and rural travel influence the risk of malaria for individuals and communities and shows how migration and travel have spread the disease and impeded control efforts. More important, the book demonstrates that the need to travel for work is an indicator of a local hierarchy of priorities. It reaffirms the urgent need for partners in malaria control to consider local socioeconomic factors in their design and implementation of intervention programs. The inclusion of local contexts, perspectives, and voices in the formulation of national and global public health policies and interventions is critical to addressing public noncooperation. To date, biomedical studies of malaria have outnumbered socioeconomic and political studies of the disease. Manamere advocates for a multipronged approach that goes beyond standard scientific research methods. Such an approach incorporates an understanding of how socioeconomic considerations of recipient communities influence malaria epidemiology, local perceptions of the disease, and responses to interventions. This context is particularly important for understanding why malaria has remained a global health challenge and why so many interventions have failed. Scientifically, malaria is a disease of the landscape, and its ecological complexity poses challenges to its eradication. Yet, biological and ecological landscapes are not exclusive factors in the spread of disease; as Manamere demonstrates, the socioeconomic environment is equally important.

The Morality of Revolution offers the first historical examination of urban cleanup campaigns and reeducation camps in socialist Mozambique. The book presents the camps as the template for independent Mozambique's punitive society under Frelimo. Individuals who transgressed the law and socialist normative codes of behavior were targeted by the revolutionary party, which obsessively pursued putative wrongdoers in an effort to build a new society from the ruins of Portuguese colonialism. Benedito Luís Machava argues that the socialist experiment, while ushering in an era of economic development and social progress, sought also to remake the moral fabric of Mozambican society. At play was the contradictory combination of high modernist, socialist aspirations and conservative anxieties rooted in a moralist reading of society. From its inception in 1974 to its demise in the late 1980s, the reeducation program was a do-it-yourself enterprise. The Frelimo government, unable to finance and support the carceral regime, expected its agents and the detainees to carry out the ambitious project on their own. Without material and human resources to run the program, state officials compelled detainees to build their own detention facilities; to grow their own food; to enforce their own political education; and in many ways, to oversee their own incarceration. The state's incapacity to translate the salvationist ideas of reeducation into planned action--a general feature of the socialist experiment in Mozambique--produced spaces of social neglect and castigation that negatively affected both the inmates and the personnel tasked with disciplining and reeducating them.

This study focuses on modernism in the visual arts in Morocco, particularly on the artists of the Casablanca school. Their activism, engagement, and interventions in the discourse of postcolonial national culture defined and energized the Moroccan modernist movement. The book follows the artists associated with the group, highlighting Farid Belkahia, Mohammed Chebaa, and Mohammed Melehi, among others. Of particular interest is the long-term collaboration between these artists and the cultural journal Souffles, founded by Abdellatif Laabi. Holiday Powers argues that the pedagogy, structural engagements, and transnational solidarities of this generation of artists are intrinsic to their broader artistic projects and are grounded in the same ideology and stakes. The actual art objects compose only one part of larger multifaceted, consistent, and wide-ranging artistic projects and must be analyzed in relation to these other activities. Powers argues for a reading of Moroccan modernism rooted in a contemporaneous national context yet also arising from a cosmopolitan foundation in dialogue with transnational anticolonial, pan-African, and pan-Arab intellectual movements. This reading does not suggest the existence of a center of global modernism that was being copied in a national context; it instead shows how global discourses were played out and experienced within specific historical, political, and cultural circumstances. Rather than explaining away these transnational connections, Powers posits that they are at the crux of modernism itself--particularly Moroccan modernism. To force a solely national narrative onto Moroccan modernism is to ignore the rich intersections and explorations fomented by the globalism of these artists and their training.

Sense and Uncertainty presents a phenomenological account of the possibility of rational action amid the challenges posed by violence, volatile conditions, uncertain outcomes, and social dependence. The book asks us to consider the following: We are often forced through violence to do things that do not make sense for us except to avoid retaliations, punishments, or the various evils that others might inflict on us.We inhabit a world that escapes our control. This involves living in uncertainty concerning the things that we might suffer and do, that is, the things that might happen to us and the results of our actions.We are dependent on others and collaborate with them in ways that make it impossible to fully understand the sense of our own actions and practical intentions.Rationality involves insightful thinking about the world and our emotional responses to it, something we do in our everyday lives, whether consciously or without awareness. Sense and Uncertainty attempts to make explicit and to clarify the implications of this conceptually neglected aspect of our rationality: namely, that it involves paying attention to our emotions and values. An ethical life in which we can act meaningfully in the face of violence and uncertainty, and in which we can make sense of our vulnerability and dependence on others, demands that we think about and seek insight into how we love, why we hope, and in whom or in what we trust. The phenomenological ethics presented in Sense and Uncertainty draws on the works of Western canonical philosophers like Edmund Husserl, Max Scheler, Simone de Beauvoir, Anthony Steinbock, and José Ortega y Gasset, as well as on those of Latin American thinkers such as Luis Villoro, Rita Segato, and Augusto Salazar Bondy, among others.

At the heart of Elusive Histories is a long-neglected story of the clandestine journeys of Mozambican migrant laborers and their families to Rhodesia. Drawing from oral histories, court records, archives, newspapers, and popular magazines, the authors chronicle Mozambican migration, work experiences, and settlement in Rhodesia. Thousands of men, women, and children traveled long distances, often on foot, to reach Rhodesia. Starting with a trickle of workers seeking to avoid chibharo, a Mozambican agricultural forced-labor system, the number of migrants peaked in the 1950s. In 1958, the Rhodesian government passed legislation to bar new Mozambican migrants from entering large cities, redirecting them toward agriculture and mining. When Black Rhodesian laborers began to complain about losing jobs to Mozambicans, the restrictions became an outright ban to prevent further migrants from entering the country. Contrary to previous assumptions, Mozambican labor in Rhodesia was not contract labor derived from bilateral negotiations between the Mozambican colonial and Rhodesian governments. In fact, many Mozambicans who came to work and live in Rhodesia arrived as illegal migrants. The book also demystifies the widely held notion that all foreign migrant workers in Rhodesia who spoke Nyanja were Nyasalanders. Because Nyanja is widely spoken at the confluence of Malawi, Zambia, and Mozambique, many Mozambicans who came to work in Rhodesia were fluent. Despite the national, racial, and cultural differences and the discrimination in job placement, promotion, and housing, Mozambican migrant laborers creatively adapted and made Rhodesia home for the duration of their lives.

Virus Research in Twentieth-Century Uganda presents the stories of scientists at the Uganda Virus Research Institute (UVRI), a biomedical center founded in 1936. The book analyzes the strategies and conditions that allowed the institute to endure and thrive through successive political and scientific regimes of the interwar period, the postwar period, the transition to independence, the conflicts of the 1970s and 1980s, and the Museveni presidency. Julia Ross Cummiskey combines methods and themes from the history of medicine and public health, science and technology studies, and African studies to show that the story of the UVRI and the people who worked there transforms our understanding of the nature of local and international expertise and the evolution of global health research over the course of the twentieth century. Global health is one of the chief areas in which African and foreign institutions interact today. Billions of dollars are invested in global health projects on the continent, many involving strategically selected "local partners." In the discourse of these projects, local and global are often framed as complementary but distinct categories of people, institutions, traditions, and practices. But the history of biomedical research at the UVRI shows that these distinctions are unstable and mutable and that people and institutions have mobilized both categories to attract funding, professional prestige, and research opportunities. The book complicates the local/global binary that is implicit (and sometimes explicit) in many studies of colonial, international, and global health and medical research, especially in Africa. Moreover, it challenges assumptions about global health as an enterprise dominated by researchers based in the Global North and recenters the history of biomedicine in Africa.

The son of a coal miner from a small Illinois town, Cleveland Indians shortstop Ray Chapman lived the American dream until his untimely death at age twenty-nine. In his brief life, he reached the pinnacle of baseball success as the best shortstop in the American League. While many professional ballplayers struggled with meager salaries, the handsome Chapman had married heiress Kathleen Daly, one of Cleveland's wealthiest women. With a child on the way and an executive job in the offseason, Chapman was moving toward a privileged place in society until an errant fastball fractured his skull and ended his life the next day. Late in the 1920 pennant race, the Indians were in New York for a key series against the Yankees. New York pitcher Carl Mays threw a high hard one that Chapman could not evade. He was taken to a nearby hospital, where doctors tried in vain to save his life. The tragedy did not end there. His widow took her own life eight years later, and their daughter, Rae, subsequently died from meningitis. Today, people visit Chapman's impressive grave in Cleveland's Lake View Cemetery, leaving baseballs and gloves in his memory. Though gone over a hundred years, he is well remembered as a Cleveland icon. This book goes far beyond the well-worn accounts of Chapman's untimely death to illustrate the fullness of his short life.

The Brontës and the Fairy Tale is the first comprehensive study devoted to the role of fairy tales and folklore in the work of Charlotte, Emily, Anne, and Branwell Brontë. It intervenes in debates on genre, literary realism, the history of the fairy tale, and the position of women in the Victorian period. Building on recent scholarship emphasizing the dynamic relationship between the fairy tale and other genres in the nineteenth century, the book resituates the Brontës' engagement with fairy tales in the context of twenty-first-century assumptions that the stories primarily evoke childhood and happy endings. Jessica Campbell argues instead that fairy tales and folklore function across the Brontës' works as plot and character models, commentaries on gender, and signifiers of national identity. Scholars have long characterized the fairy tale as a form with tremendous power to influence cultures and individuals. The late twentieth century saw important critical work revealing the sinister aspects of that power, particularly its negative effects on female readers. But such an approach can inadvertently reduce the history of the fairy tale to a linear development from the "traditional" tale (pure, straight, patriarchal, and didactic) to the "postmodern" tale (playful, sophisticated, feminist, and radical). Campbell joins other contemporary scholars in arguing that the fairy tale has always been a remarkably elastic form, allowing writers and storytellers of all types to reshape it according to their purposes. The Brontës are most famous today for Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights, haunting novels that clearly repurpose fairy tales and folklore. Campbell's book, however, reveals similar repurposing throughout the entire Brontë oeuvre. The Brontës and the Fairy Tale is recursive: in demonstrating the ubiquity and multiplicity of uses of fairy tales in the works of the Brontës, Campbell enhances not only our understanding of the Brontës' works but also the status of fairy tales in the Victorian period.

Available Light tells the story of an activist, an artist, a uniquely South African individual, and his community and family across the second half of the twentieth century. Omar Badsha was born in Durban, on the country's southeastern coast in 1945. His was the third generation of his Gujarati family to call South Africa home. Before he turned five, the country's white electorate had voted to institute apartheid to strip the rights and privileges of citizenship from most of the population, including Badsha's Indian community and especially the country's Black majority. By the time he turned fifteen, nonviolent protest against apartheid had been quashed; by the time he turned twenty, so too had the armed struggle to dislodge white supremacy within the country. The ongoing, resilient, and oft-rebuffed struggle against apartheid was a definitive factor in Badsha's life. Furthermore, Badsha was raised in a community where art--painting, carving, music, poetry, theater--was inseparable from other values, whether Islamic and conservative or radical and urgently committed. When Badsha struggled in school, he, like his father, turned to art to express what he otherwise had difficulty conveying. Art brought him into contact with people of disparate backgrounds from far beyond Durban. In time, his friendships with other artists helped him refine his voice, first in drawing and eventually in photography, and capture the political ethic by which he strove to live his life and which he shared with similarly committed artist-activists. Daniel Magaziner chronicles how art and politics became intertwined in South Africa and explains what it takes to maintain a critical aesthetic approach to political crises in the past and present. The book tracks the personal and social costs that commitment can incur, while also appreciating how Badsha and others like him have maintained their vision of an equitable, transformed society even today, when the ideals that once animated the South African struggle are on the back foot worldwide.

One of the most controversial women of the twentieth century, Jane Addams advocated for children, women, immigrants, fair working conditions, and world peace at a time when women were told to keep quiet and stay at home. Her efforts led to the founding of the first school of social work and of Hull-House, the best-known community house in the United States.

This valuable resource for public health students and professionals examines COVID-19's impact on underserved and resource-limited communities, sheds light on important social justice issues, and provides insight into the challenges and opportunities associated with vaccine distribution and the pandemic's environmental impact.

Many of the greatest love poems in English date from the Victorian period, yet this is the first scholarly book in decades to consider the whole range of Victorian love poetry by authors such as Christina Rossetti, Gerard Manley Hopkins, Augusta Webster, Thomas Hardy, and William Butler Yeats. It includes contributions by many of the leading scholars of Victorian poetry.

The Hocking Valley Railway was once Ohio's longest intrastate rail line, filled with a seemingly endless string of coal trains. Although coal was the main business, the railroad also carried iron and salt. Despite the fact that the Hocking Valley was such a large railroad, with a huge economic and social impact, very little is known about it. The Hocking Valley Railway traces the journey of a company that began in 1867 as the Columbus & Hocking Valley, built to haul coal from Athens to Columbus. Extensions of the line and consolidation of several branches ultimately created the Columbus, Hocking Valley & Toledo. This was a 345-mile railway, extending from the Lake Erie port of Toledo through Columbus and on to the Ohio River port of Pomeroy. The history of the Hocking Valley, like that of other railroads, is one of boom times and depression. By the 1920s, the Hocking coalfields were largely depleted, and the mass of track south of Columbus became a backwater, while the Toledo Division boomed. The corporate name has been gone for more than three-quarters of a century, but the Hocking Valley lives on as an integral part of railroad successor CSX. The Hocking Valley Railway, complete with 150 photographs and illustrations, also documents a historic transformation in midwestern transportation from slow canalboats to fast passenger trains. Historians and railroad enthusiasts will find much to savor in the story of this ever-changing company and the managers who ran it.

Paul Laurence Dunbar, introduced to the American public by William Dean Howells, was the first native-born African American poet to achieve national and international fame. While there have been many valuable editions of his works over time, gaps have developed when manuscripts were lost or access to uncollected works became difficult. "In His Own Voice" brings together previously upublished and uncollected short stories, essays, and poems. This volume also establishes Dunbar's reputation as a dramatist who mastered standard English conventions and used dialect in musical comedy for ironic effects. "In His Own Voice" collects more than seventy-five works in six genres. Featured are the previously unpublished play Herrick and two one-act plays, largely ignored for a century, that demonstrate Dunbar's subversion of the minstrel tradition. This generous expansion of the canon also includes a short story never before published. Herbert Woodward Martin, renowned for his live portrayal of Dunbar, and Ronald Primeau provide a literary and historical context for this previously untreated material, firmly securing the reputation of an important American voice.