The original edition of Cronwright's The Reinterment on Buffelskop (1983) was produced by Guy Butler and Nick Visser to commemorate the centenary of the1883 publication of The Story of an African Farm (hereafter African Farm).
In his provocatively entitled examination of Victorian intellectuals' reflections on theological issues, God's Funeral, A. N. Wilson (1999) explores a spectrum of responses to the decisive ascendancy of atheist convictions among the writers and philosophers who constituted these intellectual circles.
The quotation in my title comes from Gurnah's essay on Ngugi, "Transformative Strategies in the Fiction of Ngugi wa Thiong'o." In this essay, as well as in the two other contributions Gurnah makes to the two volumes edited by him and entitled Essays on African Writing, he is at pains to offer detailed scrutiny of the novels discussed before venturing a critique of the writers' standpoints.
Given Eagleton's description of the aesthetic as "a scandalous impossibility" ("Ideology of the Aesthetic" 362), it is probably unwise, and possibly perverse, to devote an article to the topic. My enquiry is prompted, however, by the very impossibility to which Eagleton refers. What is it that might have been seen to be possible that has been rendered impossible? What is the nature of this impossibility? Why is it scandalous?
In western discourses, lyric poetry has long been shrouded in ambiguity. On the one hand, it has commonly been viewed as the most subjective of genres. In poetry, the assumption has been, the self is expressed; personal feelings are subjected to form (Cullhed 2001, 246-320). On the other hand, lyric has also been seen as the genre that evacuates the self. Through lyric, the poet does not speak but is spoken through. Depending on the period, the real speaker has been called by various names such as "the muse," "tradition," "the unconscious" or "the other." As Susan Stewart puts it: "When actors become the recipients of actions, when speakers speak from the position of listeners, when thought is unattributable and intention wayward, the situation of poetry is evoked" (1995, 34).
Echo Location: A Guide to Sea Point for Residents and Visitors (1998) received some indifferent reviews when it first appeared, among them the summation of the volume of poems as lots of fun but not important enough to be afforded serious scholarly consideration (Berman 1998, 74). These reviews, discussed more fully in the concluding section of this paper, are fairly dismissive of a project that may be read as an experimental achievement in South African poetry.
This article is an investigation into the myths, legends and facts that flank one of the more recent contributions to the many narratives of Mau Mau - Wambui Waiyaki Otieno's Mau Mau's Daughter. What the flanking histories hope to achieve is to highlight the sometimes vexing complexities inherent in an individual's account of a life.
The debate about whether it is necessary - or, indeed, possible - to distinguish between fictional and non-fictional narratives rages on. Those who argue that such distinctions are spurious are armed with some heavy artillery: they point out that all attempts to convey factual information are shaped in accordance with the generic and - more broadly - cultural norms governing such texts; all textual representations of the real carry the biases and limitations not only of the recording 'I' but more profoundly of the language in which they are expressed; all apprehensions of the real (including the self) are mediated - or even more fundamentally, directed - by culture and history.
Derek Attridge has produced the finest monograph on J. M. Coetzee so far in the opinion of this reviewer. J. M. Coetzee and the Ethics of Reading: Literature in the Event is fine not only as a work of exegesis on one of the most important contemporary writers (making it arguably the work for researchers and students to read), but also as a valuable contribution to the burgeoning of postcolonial literature and criticism, particularly in its elaboration and extension of postcolonialism's theories of otherness and alterity.
The origins of Denis Hirson's two volumes of recollections date back to 1970, when the American artist and writer Joe Brainard (1941-94) published a short collection, I Remember, in the innovative Angel Hair chapbook series. Over the next few years Brainard added to and reordered this work until in 1975 it reached its final form, a book comprising a thousand-plus short entries, each beginning with the phrase "I remember," memories (mostly) from Brainard's childhood and young adulthood in the 1940s and 50s.
The subtitle of Michael Titlestad's book is deceptively straightforward. It is, as might be expected, an analysis of representations of jazz in various textual forms, but the study also includes non-textual genres. The range of discourses covered is vast: novels, short fiction, poetry, autobiography, reportage, literary portraits, interviews; even a musical - the 1959 production of King Kong with its surrounding debates - and multimedia work by Zim Ngqawana and Lefifi Tladi find their way into the book.