Abstract: Imagine this: A woman-a gynecologist-is pregnant. She doesn't want the baby. She loves one old man passionately-it doesn't matter if he is her husband, maybe he isn't. Gretchen in style moderns or a new Maria from Pushkin's "Poltava." Perfectly acquainted with the process of pregnancy, having studied all its subtleties, she makes something like Dneprostroi in her blood-bearing arteries. She constructs a unique kind of dam and succeeds in allowing only an insignificant part of the enormous strength of maternity to be transmitted to the child; with the will of a stubborn, audacious woman she directs the rest, that is, the chief, dominant part of this strength, to the old man. Injections, blood transfusions, whatever. The result of the pregnancy is the following. A child is born-a monster, a mutant, a k/k&mora, something inhuman, week, sickly, monstrous, a being absolutely unfit for life. It dies an hour after birth. But on the other hand the old man is full of strength, life, vitality. The old man has been transformed into a handsome youth with a rosy face, a burning gaze, with the mind of a wise man and the spark of youth. A fantasy: Yes? A monstrous one?

Abstract: We describe explicit calculations to nd generators a and b for the Monster sporadic simple group, satisfying the relations a 2 = b 3 = (ab) 7 = 1.

Abstract: Part 1 Theory: the context of the monstrous the language of the monstrous. Part 2 Taxonomy: the body monstrous nature monstrous monstrous concepts. Part 3 Texts: three heroes three saints.

Abstract: Preface Acknowledgments * Stereo (1969) * Crimes of the Future (1970) * Shivers (1975) * Rabid (1976) * The Brood (1979) * Scanners (1980) * Videodrome (1982) * The Dead Zone (1983) * The Fly (1986) * Dead Ringers (1988) * Naked Lunch (1991) * M. Butterfly (1993) * Crash (1996) * eXistenZ (1999) * Spider (2002) Notes Bibliography Index

Abstract: Horror films provide a guide to many of the sociological fears of the Cold War era. In an age when warning audiences of impending death was the roder of the day for popular non-fiction, horror films provided an area where this fear could be lived out to its horrible conclusion. Because enemies and potential situations of horror lurked everywhere, within the home, the government, the family, and the very self, horror films could speak adequately to the invasive fears of the Cold-War era. This study examines Cold-War anxieties as they were reflected in British and American films from the 1950s through the the early 1960s. It examines how Cold War horror films combined anxiety over social change with the erotic in such films as "Psycho", "The Tingler", "The Horror of Dracula", and "House of Wax".

Abstract: Contents: Introduction: The sacred and the profane and the diabolic Grimus: Infinite dimensions Midnights Children: The road from Kashmir Shame: An other world strikes back The Satanic Verses: Dreamscapes of a green-eyed monster Conclusion: Sea changes

Abstract: It is … the relationship between normality and the Monster that constitutes the essential subject of the horror film…. The relationship has one privileged form: the figure of the doppelganger, alter-ego, or double, a figure that has recurred constantly in western culture, especially during the past hundred years…. The doppelganger motif reveals the Monster as normality's shadow. – Robin Wood According to Laurence Rickels, author of The Vampire Lectures , and a master of the catchy academic turn of phrase (yes, such a thing does exist), Literature, which is where the phantasm of the double used to be at home … in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, during the opening era of the uncanny, suddenly released the double and no longer featured it. At the same time film and psychoanalysis were the two new institutions that began attending to the double feature. (90) Of course, neither film nor psychoanalysis attended to this double feature in isolation from one another. Otto Rank, in a 1914 paper, claimed that “the uniqueness of cinematography in visibly portraying psychological events calls our attention, with exaggerated clarity, to the fact that the interesting and meaningful problems of man's relation to himself – and the fateful disturbance of this relation – finds … imaginative representation” (7). And after reading Rank's piece, Freud himself makes mention of Paul Wegener's German doppelganger film, The Student of Prague (1913), in his seminal 1919 essay, “The ‘Uncanny’.”

Abstract: In this paper it is argued that the habitual representation of women in film has played a considerable part in constructing ideas of femininity, which contemporary filmmaking can deconstruct. The Silence of the Lambs deconstructs femininity as it has been constructed in four classic genres: the serial killer movie, the horror or monster movie, the 'pupil and mentor' movie and the 'psychiatrist and patient' movie. The Silence of the Lambs can be shown to deconstruct the generic amalgam of voyeurism, the 'male gaze' of the camera, castration anxiety and the confused and reinstated gender identities typical of the serial killer movie. The empathy between Doctor Hannibal 'the cannibal' Lecter and young FBI agent Clarice Starling criticises the encoding strategies of the classic monster movie wherein both woman and monster are feared objects within patriarchal orders of seeing. Starling's appetite for success coincides with Lecter's more obviously worrying appetite; the film deconstructs those films wherein th...

Abstract: David Williams has recently argued that medieval representations of the monster give humans an image of divinity, but one which can never be totally understood or described. Positive theology, the via positiva, attempts to take what is known of divinity and then to derive more precise statements about the nature of God; it attempts to contain God in human thought and language. The via negativa, by contrast, forces humans to discard the idea of any positive knowledge about God, since reason and language are inadequate to the task of containing or describing a being so totally other to humans. Alexander the Great, the narrator of the Old English Letter of Alexander to Aristotle, experiences such a negation in his campaign in India; he attempts to describe the wondrous beings and races which he encounters with his army, and his narrative of conquest functions as a metaphor for containing the encountered world in thought, description and mental order. However, he is resisted at every turn by natives, monsters and classical divinities; he is forced to realize that his reason and his force are incapable of containing divine power as manifested in the natural world of India.

Abstract: Russian poet Marina Tsvetaeva's powerful poetic voice and her tragic life have often prompted literary commentators to treat her as either a martyr or a monster. Born in Russia in 1892, she emigrated to Europe in 1922, returned at the height of the Stalinist Terror, and committed suicide in 1941. This work focuses on her poetry, rediscovering her as a serious thinker with a coherent artistic and philosophical vision.

Abstract: N his ecclesiastical history of New England, Magnalia Christi Americana (1702), Cotton Mather reported a striking incident between the missionary John Eliot and the Wampanoag sachem known to the English as King Philip. "Our Eliot," Mather wrote, looking back some thirty years to a time before Philip led a devastating war against the New England settlements, "made a tender of the everlasting salvation to [King Philip]; but the monster entertained it with contempt and anger, and, after the Indian mode of joining signs with words, he took a button upon the coat of the reverend man, adding 'That he cared for his gospel, just as much as he cared for that button.' "' The "Indian mode of joining signs with words" would have been understood by pre-twentieth-century readers as the use of gesture-in this case the aggressive grab for Eliot's coat button-to supplement verbal communication. Believing that the languages of the Americas were in vocabulary and syntax incapable of representing the full range of civilized thought and action, many writers and travelers from England and Europe thought that the gestures of Indian oratory were meant to compensate for that inadequacy." Some regarded the gestures and

Abstract: The rhetoric of women as wombs or mere incubators has circulated in Western culture at least as far back as Aristotle (Zeitlin), and it has re-emerged powerfully in recent abortion discourse regarding “fetal and father's rights” (Bordo 72). As we might expect, this discourse has also entered into our narratives, particularly science fiction texts, which have been preoccupied with creation and procreation ever since Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Recent American science fiction films are heavily invested in these concerns because they so spectacularly intersect with the genre's fundamental subject matter, that is, with science and technology, which represent another sort of creative power–one that these texts have traditionally linked to and placed in masculine rather than feminine hands. From I Married a Monster from Outer Space (1958) to Alien 4: Alien Resurrection (1997), who controls procreation and creation, how, and for what purposes have been central issues.

Abstract: The prevalence of corruption poses a serious threat to our nation. This paper intends to investigate, apart from the various forms of corruption and our reactions to them, the causes of and the possible cures for this evil in our society.

Abstract: From the time there was a thing you could call a "Romantic novel," it has been a source of embarrassment for its critics. Until the advent of Scott, even the reception of the best that the genre could produce was marked by squeamish ambivalence. Thus, Arthur Aikin's notice of Radcliffe's The Italian in The Monthly Review (March 1797). In order to fix Radcliffe's place in the aesthetic order, Aikin constructs a hierarchy of modern fiction, in which the "most excellent" and "difficult" species of "novel-writing consists in an accurate and interesting representation of such manners and characters as society presents." Aikin is looking back toward the male tradition of the novel, exemplified above all by Fielding and Richardson, and forward, unwittingly, to Jane Austen and George Eliot. "Next comes the modern Romance; in which, high description, extravagant characters, and extraordinary and scarcely possible occurrences combine to rivet the attention, and to excite emotions more thrilling than even the best selected and best described natural scene." So far, it seems, so good. But then Aikin proceeds: "This species of fiction is perhaps more imposing ... on the first perusal" but at second glance it reveals its "vast inferiority" to "the genuine novel" (49). Whereas the novel is based on "truth," the romance is just a narrative gimmick for exciting curiosity, which it can no longer do once we have guessed the "secret" of its plot. Aikin concedes that women may master the more difficult novel (presumably, he has Burney in mind) but implies that romance is their natural sphere. Thus, Radcliffe may be the supreme practitioner of "modern romance"-of the Romantic novel, we might now say-but this only leaves her at the head of the tribe of scribbling women and some ways behind even the laggards in the male ranks ahead of her, proper novelists staggering under the masculine burden of rigorous truth. Robert Kiely's seminal study, The Romantic Novel in England, is equally embarrassed. Kiely begins his introduction by likening the Romantic novel to a species of Frankenstein's monster, a crazy patchwork of appropriated, dismembered, unassimilated literary forms. He then explains how this calamitous experiment came into being. The Romantic novelist was drawn to the period's interest in the subjective and irrational, the oneiric and the outr6, as represented in such aesthetic fads as the sublime, graveyard imagery, and the supernatural. While such material was workable in the medium of poetry, it pulled against the qualities that had become intrinsic to the novel form: duration, a concern with community, and the objective representation of events. Kiely repeatedly essays different formulas for the hash the Romantic novelist subsequently made of things: "The English romantic novelists seem to have wanted it both ways-to authenticate the incredible, to claim originality without really departing from the familiar" (10); "they tried to introduce the unnamable [sic] into a genre which derived

Abstract: Hanif Kureishi has disavowed being influenced by Salman Rushdie as a novelist: "His writing is not like my writing in any way. We're quite different" (qtd. in Ashraf). Nevertheless, Kureishi's second novel, The Black Album, reveals several traces of his friend's monumental The Satanic Verses. Most obvious are the overt references to the controversy surrounding the publication of The Satanic Verses. The Black Album is set in the late 80s at the time of the fatwa, and Kureishi's characters argue about Rushdie's book, which, in one of the narrative's climaxes, is publicly burnt by a group of fundamentalist Muslim students at a nondescript college in the slums of northwest London. Moreover, The Black Album reinscribes some of the main themes of The Satanic Verses. Like Rushdie, Kureishi is concerned with the plight of the migrant denied a unitary identity because he is shunted back and forth between two cultures (each of which is itself internally divided and subdivided) and invited to adopt a variety of sometimes contradictory subject positions. Such a dilemma is painful, even potentially tragic, but Kureishi shows that it also contains possibilities for growth and creativity. What Rushdie has said of The Satanic Verses is also ultimately true of The Black Album: it "celebrates hybridity, impurity, intermingling, the transformation that comes of new and unexpected combinations of human beings, cultures, ideas, politics, movies, songs. It rejoices in mongrelization and fears the absolutism of the Pure" ("In Good Faith" 394). In addition to analyzing some of the intertextual links between Kureishi's novel and The Satanic Verses, this essay will chart the process whereby the young protagonist of The Black Album, Shahid Hasan, comes to accept the fluid, mongrelized condition of both the self and society at large and to reject the purity of a dogmatic, totalizing religious faith; furthermore, the essay will examine the curious split between the narrative content of The Black Album (which could be labeled postcolonialist and postmodernist) and the narrative form (which, unlike that of The Satanic Verses, is linear, unself-conscious realism). Whereas Kureishi's screenplays (particularly Sammy and Rosy Get Laid) are formally fragmented, elliptical and, in places, surrealistic, in The Black Album he relies on a traditional set of narrative methods which, by their nature, presuppose a stability and coherence denied by contemporary culture, as Kureishi himself presents it. In a context in which Kureishi confounds existing definitions and categories of all kinds, the capacity of an undramatized narrator to convey an authoritative, objectively accurate, seamless representation of this turbulent, multiform new reality is never called into question. Kureishi has written about his own crises of identity endured while he was growing up in England as the son of an English mother and Indian father, who emigrated to England before all of his relatives moved from Bombay to Karachi after the partition of India and Pakistan. Like Kureishi himself, Shahid Hasan, at the opening of the narrative, has formerly identified with the colonizing British since he has lived all his life in England as a British subject. Out of shame, Shahid has rejected the culture of his father. Kureishi has said that Enoch Powell's racist supporters had transformed the word "Pakistani" into an insult: "It was a word I didn't want to use about myself. I couldn't tolerate being myself" ("Rainbow Sign" 7). Shahid's reaction is even more extreme: he longs to join the racist British National Front. "I began to turn into one of them," he says. "I was becoming a monster" (Black Album 19). Saladin Chamcha of The Satanic Verses, also victimized as a school boy by English racism, copes similarly with feelings of alienation and self-hatred by identifying with his oppressors and repudiating his Indian heritage. "'You're not my people," he says of Muhammed Sufyan and the other Indian immigrants who hide him in the Shaandaar Cafe after his metamorphosis into a horned, demonic creature. …

Abstract: Version anglaise dans la bibliotheque: Managing the monster : urban waste and governance in Africa

Abstract: This study of the vampire in literature from the early nineteenth century to the present analyzes its metaphorical characteristics. The vampire is the perfect figure of disorder and entropy, and its dominance as a literary figure/monster, an instigator of chaos of all kinds, makes it worthy of study for readers interested in an emerging theory of literary disorder as well as horror literature. Entropy, the most intriguing root metaphor of our time, and the vampire, figure of decadence, degeneration, and perverse physics, illuminate each other as Michael J. Dennison examines such famous works as Dracula and The Fall of the House of Usher, as well as works that have unjustly fallen into near obscurity.

Abstract: ed Port Jetvis, the Ttescotts, in this light, might be a more absttactly American—a Utopian—vetsion of Ctane's own family. 2.The normative mode of American fiction between the Civil War and World War I is taken to be tealism. See Sundquist 3-25, Pizet 1-18. Naturalism is variously defined, but is genetally held to involve the depiction of a mechanistic, radically de-psychologized milieu and, with vatying emphasis, an underlying philosophy of determinism (Sundquist; Pizer; Mitchell 96-99). Notris, Dreiser, London and Crane are considered the central American natutalists. Crane's impressionism, famously identified by Contad, was fitst noted by reviewers such as Edward Garnett and H. G. Wells. Nagel's study codifies the technique as concerned with denaturalizing realism's assumed ground, our ability to perceive and intetptet teality (1-32); he distinguishes its empiricism from the pessimism of naturalism. 3.The Gothic has always been difficult to codify. In Kilgour's account, it is a kind of Frankenstein genie, \"assembled out of the bits and pieces of the past\" (4). Davidson, one of the first ctitics to histoticize the genre, describes the early American Gothic as a historical mode operating in a place traditionally defined by its insufficiency of history (212-36). The category of American Gothic has received considerable attention of late. Martin atgues that in a process begun by Fiedler, critics have come to see the Gothic as \"definitional of Ametican writing\" (x). Goddu reads the American Gothic historically, arguing that it \"registers its culture's contradictions\" (3); she does not, howevet, relate this mimesis to that traditionally claimed for realism. Sundquisr remarks that the Gothic is the grandfather of naturalism, and that the latter mode can entail \"a Gothic intensification of detail that approaches the allegorical\" (13). Wintet links the Gothic novel and the slave narrative. Generally, however, the implications of the Gothic within Ametican realism remain unexplored. 4.See Weathetford. 5.Goddu locates a similar opposition in the strain ofAmericanist criticism that defined American literature's \"power erf blackness\" as symbolic or psychological depth, against the surface trickery of the merely Gothic or the sentimental (6-8). The beginning of such a model can be seen in the tutn-of-the-centuty reviewers' notion that Crane's attention to detail obsttucted his ttuly Gothic intentions. 6.Ftied was the first to notice the extent of the figuration of writing in \"The Monstet\" (1 14-16, 136). His study of Crane is concerned with the patadoxical effects ptoduced by the unconscious itruption of a graphic metaphorics within an impressionist literary style that sought aftet stylistic transparency; he describes an authorly dilemma in which the material surface of the text continually threatens to ftustrate writing's presumed ability to provide unimpeded access to the depths of signification. But I see this imagery in tetms of matking, rathet than wtiting, and as a (tudimentaty) semiotic system rathet than a specific material practice. This aligns it with what I take to be a theme of the story, the failure of social ttanspatency (whereas Fried argues that the play of materiality in the story is precisely incompatible with its thematic impott, and only makes sense within a symptomatic reading of Crane's oeuvre). Stephen Crane's \"TheMonster\"53 7.As Howard writes, standatd accounts of realism view it as a vehicle for social critique; it \"can and does tefer to a 'real world' with a material existence somewhere outside the literary text\" (it). 8.Wotds such as \"revolution,\" \"revolt,\" and \"suppress\" appear in the presentation of vittually every social intetaction in the story; theit effect is mote one of atmospheric coloting than of specific analysis. The best example of, and guide to, this phenomenon of stylistic excess is the desctiption in section XI of Henry Johnson: the bandages around his head reveal only a single \"unwinking eye\" (31 ) which discomfits the judge greatly. This echo of Poe's \"The Tell-Tale Heart\" is set up by innocent idioms that tutn deadly on rereading. Henry, for example, is said to have \"an eye\" for the reactions of othets to his sattorial elegance (15). Once again, this strand of imagety matks the visual—the cteation and viewing of lurid spectacles—

Abstract: The Irish poet and Nobel prize winner Seamus Heaney has recently been lecturing on the subject of Beowulf. Beowulf is a very long narrative poem composed somewhere between the 7th and 10th centuries. It is a large heroic canvas that relates the deeds of a Scandinavian warrior prince from the land of the Geets, located somewhere in Southern Sweden, who crossed the sea to the land of the Danes in order to rid this country of a man-eating monster called Grendel. He returns triumphant and ascends to legendary status. He has had some interesting things to say about the process of translation, and in particular about the demands made upon him as an independently creative writer by the responsibility of rendering not just the vocabulary but the essence and impact of an assemblage of words from one linguistic context into another. There are parallels, the A. wants to suggest, with the issues surrounding ethnographic exhibitions.

Abstract: Dot.coms were lauded in 1999. Dot.bombs were savaged in 2000. Dot.survivors linger in 2001. Despite this roller-coaster history the recruitment industry has gone on-line and digital. Fuelled by claims of access to “a gold standard workforce” organisations are urged by the HR industry press to get on line to improve their recruitment strategies. Puzzled by the proliferation of hyperbole and the rhetoric of cyberrecruitment, we, two management academics decided to become participants in this brave new world of ecruitment. Despite the promises of a sophisticated and effective method of attracting the best candidates for employers, as potential employees we found the on-line interaction to be frustrating and time-wasting. We spent hours attempting to respond to the on line prompts at various job sites and we experienced the decision protocols underlying the web-based recruitment programs to be so immutable we could not even succeed in registering our interest in any advertised position. This experience leads us into a dialogue as we both sought to understand our personal responses to the dissonance between the rhetoric of e-cruitment and our reality. Reflecting her theoretical bias towards a psychoanalytic perspective, Jan asked ‘What in the process of recruitment is being defended against by the adoption of e-cruitment methods?’ Sue’s discourse perspective led her to a different question. ‘What are the disciplinary effects of the discourses surrounding emerging social practices such as e-cruitment?’ In the spirit of co-operative inquiry that encompasses a both/and approach we use these two critical theoretical perspectives to analyse the construction of ‘e-cruitment’ as a digital tool for attracting and selecting human resources. We intend to hold a dialogue that includes theoretical insights from both these perspectives to broaden our understanding of the issues.

Abstract: PROBLEM TO BE SOLVED: To provide a game system and a game control method allowing a more enjoyable game to be played. SOLUTION: The rate at which a monster appears in a field where a character exists is varied depending on the weather of the field. In a condition where an actual player character fights against an enemy character (monster), the ability of the monster to search for enemies is set to be affected by the weather of the field. COPYRIGHT: (C)2003,JPO

Abstract: This paper will investigate three films: the 1939 Tower of London, the 1962 Tower of London (both versions of the Richard III story), and the 1973 Theater of Blood. All adapt and utilize Shakespearean materials, all are "horror" films, and (what might seem the corollary thereof), all feature Vincent Price, although there are very considerable local differences in all three categories. The 1939 Tower was a production of Universal Studios, already well established as the House of Monsters. Universal had made Tod Browning's Dracula in 1931 and James Whale's Frankenstein in 1932-with of course Bela Lugosi as the Count and Boris Karloff as the monster in their signature roles. A number of further, and often effective, horror films had followed, but by about 1937, Universal had foregone the genre. Increasingly powerful censorship was certainly one factor in this decision; the studio's extremely troubled finances also very probably played a role. In 1938, however, Dracula and Frankenstein were rereleased as a double bill and did record-breaking business, and accordingly, Universal returned to the genre in 1939 with Son of Frankenstein. In later years, the studio's horror films became laughably bad;1 but in 1939, Son of Frankenstein was produced with what seems to have been some considerable ambition and, so its remarkable expressionistic decor suggests, at some significant cost. The film was directed by Rowland V. Lee and starred Basil Rathbone in the (sympathetic) title role and Karloff in his last screen appearance as the monster. The relevance here is that the stars and the director were immediately re-united for their next assignments in Tower of London. Tower makes a very large gesture in the direction of the horror genre with its inclusion of Karloff as Mord, the hairless, club-footed, and malevolent torturer/executioner who serves as the agent of Richard III's vicious plans. Mord's menacing, nearly sub-human appearance and his slow and awkward gait are clearly intended to recall Karloff as the monster. What is perhaps most reminiscent of that role is the moment when Mord is carrying the younger of the two princes, who will shortly be murdered. In his sleep, the little Duke of York puts his arm around the executioner's neck, and for just a few seconds, Mord is touched with pity for the boy. This is virtually a quotation from Karloff's previous performances, in which his grotesque, mask-like face continually registered pathos, suffering, and an innocent responsiveness to beauty and vulnerability. In the Frankenstein films, an episode portraying the potentially "good" monster always shows up: in the initial film, he has a scene in which he and a little girl play happily at throwing flowers in the water;2 in Bride of Frankenstein, he enjoys a rustic idyll with a benevolent and fortuitously blind hermit; and in Son, he becomes the secret playmate of Rathbone's four-year old son. (This role-the Grandson of Frankenstein-was performed by a child actor named Donnie Dunagan, who also re-appears in Tower as the little Duke of York at age five; an older boy-actor [John Herbert-Bond] plays the prince who is murdered.) Obviously, the intention was to include Karloff in Tower in a role about as close to the Frankenstein monster as the narrative traffic could bear. Beyond Karloff's appearance, the film's credentials for inclusion in the horror genre are not especially strong, and it might arguably be better characterized as popularized historical romance. Rathbone's stereotypical role was as villain-particularly costumed villain to exploit his great skill as fencer; he was not, like Karloff and Lugosi, a horror-film star. Here, he is meant generally as a kind of pre-scientific, feudal evil genius, but Karloff's role distances him both from the film's violence-Mord does the bulk of the killing-and from the traditional association of Richard III with deformity-Rathbone has a large bump on his left shoulder, but he moves with his usual lithe, coiled-spring energy. …