Search Results (6)

This essay explores the convergence of Decadence, queer sociality, and Pacific imagery in the work of American travel writer Charles Warren Stoddard and Japanese poet Yone Noguchi. For these writers, the “South Seas” seemed to epitomize a prelapsarian sexual innocence, exempted (at least provisionally) from capitalist calculations of value and the impositions of Victorian bourgeois morality. As such, the Pacific furnished a shared imaginary in which they could articulate transgressive homosocial intimacies, both with each other and with others in their bohemian circle. But these expressions of queer, cosmopolitan kinship also depended on well-worn stereotypes about native decline, in which Indigenous peoples were seen to embody an irrecoverable past—one doomed to disappear in the onward march of modernity. Drawing on postcolonial conceptions of extinction discourse and Indigenous agency, this essay will thus contend with one potential “misuse” of Decadence: that is, as the driver of an exoticism that perpetuated imperialist narratives about the inevitable extinction of Indigenous peoples. Full article

Although he first published fiction during the fin de siècle with John Lane, publisher of The Yellow Book, Arthur Machen denied a Decadent heritage for his work; nonetheless, echoes of Decadent interests and imagery carried through his fiction long after the 1890s, through to his final novel, The Green Round. Decades later, M. John Harrison’s Viriconium series of novels and stories nodded to and wrestled with the Decadent legacy, while his interest in Machen became explicit with the short story “The Great God Pan” (the title taken from one of Machen’s most famous tales) and the novel The Course of the Heart, built from the earlier story. Harrison was an initiator of the New Weird literary tendency at the turn of the millennium, and one of the books central to that tendency is K.J. Bishop’s 2003 novel The Etched City, which openly drew on Decadent writings and on Harrison’s own use of Decadent material. Attending to writings by Machen, Harrison, and Bishop, we can see ways that Decadent aesthetics and imagery carried forward, finding a home a century later, not in the literary mainstream but in an experimental corner of the science fiction, fantasy, and horror genres. Full article

At the time of its construction, which started in 1913, the architectural design of Moscow’s Kazan Station was considered by many to be out of step with the avant-garde creative energies that pervaded fin-de-siècle Russian culture. The same opinion applied to the artworks that were installed to decorate the station’s interior. In the decades since, art historians have generally shared the judgments levied by those who complained about the station’s supposed deficits in the 1910s. The purpose of this article is to show that, while the designs and décor of Kazan Station were indeed anachronistic—especially considering the high-tech purposes and functions of the industrial-era railroad station—the anachronism, far from reflecting a lack of awareness or innovative ability, resulted from conscious decisions on the part of Alexei Shchusev as architect, Alexandre Benois as the individual who selected artists to work on the station, and the artists themselves, including Nikolai Roerich and Pavel Kuznetsov, namely, those who built and decorated the station deliberately concealed the station’s inherently modernist and utilitarian nature behind a backward-looking, past-oriented façade, both to fulfill their mission of commemorating old Russia’s imperial expansion and subjugation of the East and to assuage the social and cultural anxieties often stirred up in the late 1800s and early 1900s by the construction of infrastructural assets such as railroad stations. Full article

The absence of female writing forms a particularly striking gap in the historiography of German-language literature in the Czech Lands during the decades around 1900. Women participated significantly in the literary scene of the period but were largely forgotten. Our article will discuss the conditions and discourses that enabled women to be active in the public space but later led to their absence in literary history. Approaches are sought that make future inclusion possible again. The first step for (re-)establishing a female presence in this area is to reconstruct biographies with a focus on female-specific social realities at the time and on the interaction of cultural, social and historical factors. In the next step, attention is brought to the “minor” or “simple”, rather non-canonical literary genres that were often used by women authors at the fin de siècle. Full article

Gustaf af Geijerstam’s Medusas hufvud (Medusa’s Head, 1895) is one of the “account-settling novels” of the late nineteenth century. These novels reflect on the aesthetic reorientation after the breakdown of the “Eighties movement” in Sweden. One important dimension of this transformation was the growing emphasis on gendered visions of authorship. I argue that Geijerstam’s novel is an attempt to create a male author role and a male intellectual sphere. The establishment of a male literary sphere requires homosocial desire, an artistic passion that Geijerstam understands as similar and different from sexual desire. This terminology is employed, after Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, to insist on a productive continuum between the repositioning on the literary field that the novel represents and the thinly disguised homosexual tensions between its three male characters. However, the homosexual tensions are also related to secrecy, disgust, and terror (most clearly visible in the important Medusa motif). I finally argue that Geijerstam employs the erotic triangle, where the woman functions as a “mediator” for a relationship between the men, as a plot device that lets him simultaneously explore and dissimulate this homosocial desire. Full article

Today, Katherine Mansfield is well known as one of the most exciting and cutting-edge exponents of the modernist short story. Little critical attention, however, has been paid to her poetry, which seems a strange omission, given how much verse she wrote during the course of her life, starting as a very young schoolgirl, right up until the last months prior to her death in 1923. Even Mansfield devotees are not really familiar with any poems beyond the five or six that have most frequently been anthologised since her death, and few editions of her poetry have ever been published. Mansfield’s husband, John Middleton Murry, edited a slim volume, Poems, in 1923, within a few months of her death, followed by a slightly extended edition in 1930, and Vincent O’Sullivan edited another small selection, also titled Poems, in 1988. Unsurprisingly, therefore, critics and biographers have paid little attention to her poetry, tending to imply that it is a minor feature of her art, both in quantity and, more damagingly, in quality. This situation was addressed in 2016, when EUP published a complete and fully annotated edition of Mansfield’s poems, edited by myself and Claire Davison, incorporating all my recent manuscript discoveries, including a collection of 36 poems—The Earth Child—sent unsuccessfully by Mansfield to a London publisher in 1910. This discovery in 2015 revealed how, at the very moment when Mansfield was starting to have stories accepted for commercial publication, she was also taking herself seriously as a poet. Indeed, had the collection been published, perhaps Mansfield might now be celebrated as much for her poetry as for her short stories. Therefore, this article explores the development of Mansfield’s poetic writing throughout her life and makes the case for her reassessment as an innovative poet and not just as a ground-breaking short story writer. Full article