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"Lucidity" is a novella set in the near future of a man living in a city in the United States as a successful businessman. The novella criticizes the idea of consumerism through Aurora, a character who believes that a drug is being introduced into the water and food supply by the corporate-backed government. Characters find advertising to be almost irresistible, experience strange cravings for things like cheap beer, and are generally preoccupied with the latest products. James Simmons, the protagonist of the novella, finds himself in the lap of luxury. He has a job that pays well, a penthouse apartment, a fast car, and women. Even though he has the material riches that society tells him he needs to be happy, he knows that something is missing, something is wrong with the world in which he lives. For reasons unknown to him at the time, James is fired from his job and sets out on a journey to discover why. Over the course of his journey, he is finally able to begin piecing together the nature of deeper questions about himself that he never had a chance to answer. ; 2013-05-01 ; B.A. ; Arts and Humanities, Dept. of English ; Bachelors ; This record was generated from author submitted information.

What is soul? Can it be forfeited? Can it be traded away? If it can, what would ensue? What consequences would follow from loss of soul - for the individual, for society, for the earth? In the early nineteenth century, Goethe's hero, Faust, became a defining archetype of modernity, a harbinger of the existential possibilities and moral complexities of the modern condition. But today the dire consequences of the Faustian pact with the devil are becoming alarmingly visible. In light of this, how would Goethe's arguably flawed drama play out in a 21st-century century setting? Would a contemporary Faust sign up to a demonic deal? Indeed what, in the wake of two hundred years of social and economic development, would be left for the devil to offer him? A contemporary Faust would already possess everything the original Faust in his ascetic cloister lacked - affluence and mobility; celebrity and worldly influence; access to information; religious choice; sexual freedom and the availability of women - though women, it must be noted, currently also partake of that same freedom. The only thing a present-day Faust would lack would be his soul. Would he miss it? Does soul even exist? If it does, it would of course be the one thing the devil could not bestow. So from what or whom could Faust retrieve it? What, in a word, would a contemporary Faust most deeply desire? In pursuit of these questions, Ardea engages a familiar but possibly faulty archetype, that of Faust, with an unfamiliar one, that of the white heron, an archetype borrowed from a short story of the same name by 19th-century American author, Sarah Orne Jewett. In Jewett's tale, a soul-pact of an entirely different kind from that entered into by Faust is proposed. It is a pact with the wild, a pledge of fealty, of non-forfeiture, that promises to redraw the violent psycho-sexual and psycho-spiritual patterns that have underpinned modernity. How would a present-day heir to the Faustian tradition, ingrained with the habit of entitlement but also burdened with the consequences of the old pact, respond to the new proposition?

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Kaya from Novella to FilmThis paper analyses the transformation of K. Quien's novella Kaya into a screenplay adaptation and a film of the same name by eminent Croatian director Vatroslav Mimica. The analysis points out both significant characteristics of the transformation of the text and the transformation of the portrayed Mediterranean urban area (a crime in Trogir), as well as the linguistic stylisation of the characters' Trogir dialect, which contributes to the atmosphere of the film. Discussion of this film has so far only unfolded on the basis of a comparison of Quien's novella and Mimica's film. This analysis thus contributes important information about the structural and narrative characteristics of the unpublished screenplay, which sheds more light on the paths towards the creation of this Croatian film,which is considered V. Mimica's best work and one of the best Croatian films. Kaya, od noweli do filmuW artykule analizowane jest przekształcenie noweli Kaya, zabiję cię K. Quiena w scenariusz adaptacji filmowej, a następnie w film pod tym samym tytułem, nakręcony przez wybitnego chorwackiego reżysera Vatroslava Mimicę. Analiza skupia się na dwóch kwestiach. Po pierwsze, dotyczy przekształcenia tekstu i obrazu przestrzeni śródziemnomorskiego miasteczka (Trogiru). Po drugie, omawiana jest stylizacja językowa, wykorzystanie cech dialektu trogirskiego, przyczyniające się do stworzenia atmosfery filmu. Dotychczasowa dyskusja o filmie jedynie powierzchownie dotykała związków z nowelą Quiena na poziomie porównawczym. Niniejszy artykuł przynosi ważne informacje o strukturalnych i narracyjnych cechach niepublikowanego dotąd scenariusza, co rzuca nowe światło na proces tworzenia filmu, uznawanego za najwybitniejsze dzieło Mimicy i jeden z najlepszych chorwackich filmów w ogóle. Kaya, od novele do filmaU ovom radu analizira se transformacija novele K. Quiena Kaja, ubit ću te preko scenarističke adaptacije u istoimeni film istaknutoga hrvatskoga redatelja Vatroslava Mimice. U analizi se ističu ne samo bitne značajke transformacije teksta nego i transformacija predočene mediteranske urbane sredine (zločin u Trogiru) te jezična stilizacija trogirskoga govora likova, koji doprinosi ambijentalnom ugođaju filma. Do sada se o filmu raspravljalo samo na temelju usporedbe Quienove novele i Mimičina filmskoga ostvarenja, pa ova analiza donosi neke važne podatke o strukturnim i narativnim značajkama neobjavljenoga scenarija, čime se jače osvjetljavaju putovi kreacije toga hrvatskoga filma, koji se smatra najboljim redateljskim ostvarenjem V. Mimice i jednim od najboljih hrvatskih filmova.

The most famous legal work of the ancient world was compiled at the order of the emperor Justinian (c.482-565) and issued in the period 529-34. It was intended to be a complete codification of all law, to be used as the only source of law in all the courts of the empire. The work was divided into three parts: the Codex Justinianus contained all of the extant imperial enactments from the time of Hadrian; the Digesta compiled the writings of great Roman jurists; and the Institutiones was intended as a textbook for law schools. However, Justinian later found himself obliged to create more laws, and these were published as the Novellae. This three-volume Latin edition of 1872-95, prepared by the great classical historian Theodor Mommsen (1817-1903) and his colleagues, is the culmination of centuries of palaeographical and legal studies. Volume 3 contains the Novellae

Before broaching the main topic of this study, there seem to me to be two general issues involving terms in the title which need to be addressed: The one concerns nomenclature, the other the question of genres. A certain vagueness colors most attempts at definition of the term "novella," something which seems the result of both the way in which the term has developed and the considerable differences of opinion among critics. Thus theOxford English Dictionaryseems to reflect the relatively recent interest in the genre in the English-speaking world by not including the word at all in the main part of the dictionary and by defining it in the Supplement as "a short novel (as in the stories of Boccaccio'sDecameron)." As Howard Nemerov points out, however, "the term 'short novel' is descriptive only in the way that the term 'Middle Ages' is descriptive—that is, not at all, except with regard to the territory on either side." The index to the English translation of Todorov'sPoetics of Prose lists: Novella, see Tale. Such entries as these do at least convey to us the notion that the novella operates somewhere along a fictional spectrum, the two poles of which are the novel and the short story, but that is all.

John Kinsella is widely known as an 'international regionalist', activist, anarchist, poet, novelist. As Nicolas Birns explains in the introduction to Kinsella and this particular novella, Pink Salt, this affords his work a kind of stretch across places and times, particulars and universals, region and the world system and its ecosystems. The publication of this work in Thesis Eleven is an auspicious occasion for us. The journal has long published writing about literature, its politics and performance. Here we present the act in literature itself. It is, as Birns shows, a kind of text where real is surreal, and the other way around. It offers an experiment in writing in politics that we hope opens new vistas, both closer to home and afar.

Partial letter regarding life in New York, world politics and the war.