This book retraces "the nature of hate" as hate in its primal form as told and conveyed in so many culturally influential Bible stories that are at the root of hatred as it manifests itself today and "the hatred of nature" as contempt for the natural world and also nature hating in return through Western literature.

The Nature of Hate and the Hatred of Nature in Hispanic Literatures retraces the “nature of hatred” and the “hatred of nature” from the earliest traditions of Western literature including Biblical texts, Medieval Spanish literature, early Spanish Renaissance texts, to nineteenth- and twentieth-century Iberian and Latin American literatures. The nature of hate is neither hate in its weakened form, as in disliking or loving less, nor hate in its righteous form, as in “I hate hatred,” rather hate in its primal form as told and conveyed in so many culturally influential Bible stories that are at the root of hatred as it manifests itself today. The hatred of nature is not only contempt for the natural world, but also the idea of nature hating in return, thus inspiring even more hatred of nature. While some chapters, such as the one dedicated to La Celestina, focus more on the nature of hate and the hatred of love, they do address the hatred of nature, as when Celestina conjures Pluto, who happens to be closer to nature than to Satan. Other chapters, such as the ones dedicated to the Latin American novels set in the jungle, focus more on the hatred of nature but ultimately turn to the nature of hatred by analyzing hatred and the descent into madness. In the final chapters Beatriz Rivera-Barnes simultaneously addresses the nature of hatred and the hatred of nature as well as the ecophilia/ecophobia debate in twentieth-century Latin American literatures and considers, if not an assimilation of hate, possibly the cannibalizing of hate.

The topics covered by this pioneering collection of essays range from peninsular Spanish to Latin American literature, from the eleventh to the twentieth centuries, and from the subject of women as portrayed in Hispanic literature to the literature of Hispanic women writers. Some pieces present polemical feminist arguments, other are more traditional. All the contributors use their subject to take new stands on old controversies, ask new questions, and reevaluate important aspects of Hispanic literature. While there is ample evidence in these essays of the dual archetype in Hispanic literature of women as icon and woman as fallen idol, the collection reaches beyond these stereotypes to more complex sociological and theoretical concerns. Although such research has ben abundantly pursued by scholars of English and American literature, it has been notably absent from Hispanic studies. This anthology is a comprehensive introduction to its subject and a stimulus to further work in the area. Contributors: Fernando Alegría Electa Arenal Julianne Burton Alan Deyermond Rosalie Gimeno Harriet Goldberg Estelle Irizarry Kathleen Kish Luis Leal Linda Gould Levine Melveena McKendrick Francine Masiello Beth Miller Elizabeth Ordóñez Rachel Phillips Marcia L. Welles This title is part of UC Press's Voices Revived program, which commemorates University of California Press’s mission to seek out and cultivate the brightest minds and give them voice, reach, and impact. Drawing on a backlist dating to 1893, Voices Revived makes high-quality, peer-reviewed scholarship accessible once again using print-on-demand technology. This title was originally published in 1983.

This work is an exploration of 'the Black Legend', the popular myth that colonial Spain and her military religious agents were brutal and unrelenting in their conquest of the Americas.

From the USA TODAY bestselling author of Sweet Thing and Nowhere But Here comes a love story about a Craigslist “missed connection” post that gives two people a second chance at love fifteen years after they were separated in New York City. To the Green-eyed Lovebird: We met fifteen years ago, almost to the day, when I moved my stuff into the NYU dorm room next to yours at Senior House. You called us fast friends. I like to think it was more. We lived on nothing but the excitement of finding ourselves through music (you were obsessed with Jeff Buckley), photography (I couldn’t stop taking pictures of you), hanging out in Washington Square Park, and all the weird things we did to make money. I learned more about myself that year than any other. Yet, somehow, it all fell apart. We lost touch the summer after graduation when I went to South America to work for National Geographic. When I came back, you were gone. A part of me still wonders if I pushed you too hard after the wedding… I didn’t see you again until a month ago. It was a Wednesday. You were rocking back on your heels, balancing on that thick yellow line that runs along the subway platform, waiting for the F train. I didn’t know it was you until it was too late, and then you were gone. Again. You said my name; I saw it on your lips. I tried to will the train to stop, just so I could say hello. After seeing you, all of the youthful feelings and memories came flooding back to me, and now I’ve spent the better part of a month wondering what your life is like. I might be totally out of my mind, but would you like to get a drink with me and catch up on the last decade and a half? M