This volume comprises studies on death in Spanish, British/American and German children's literature cinema and audiovisual fiction; several translations from English and German into the languages of Spain are analysed. Contributions show the historical development of this topic, and how it has enabled young readers to face death maturely.

Two novellas about domestic life, isolation, and the passing of time by one of the finest Italian writers of the twentieth century. Carmine, an architect, and Ivana, a translator, lived together long ago and even had a child, but the child died, and their relationship fell apart, and Carmine married Ninetta, and their child is Dodò, who Carmine feels is a little dull, and these days Carmine is still spending every evening with Ivana, but Ninetta has nothing to say about that. Family, the first of these two novellas from the 1970s, is an examination, at first comic, then progressively dark, about how time passes and life goes on and people circle around the opportunities they had missed, missing more as they do, until finally time is up. Borghesia, about a widow who keeps acquiring and losing the Siamese cats she hopes will keep her company in her loneliness, explores similar ground, along with the confusions of feeling and domestic life that came with the loosening social strictures of the 1970s. “She remembered saying that there were three things in life you should always refuse,” thinks one of Natalia Ginzburg’s characters, beginning to age out of youth: “Hypocrisy, resignation, and unhappiness. But it was impossible to shield yourself from those three things. Life was full of them and there was no holding them back.”

Bosmajian explores children's texts that have either a Holocaust survivor or a former member of the Hitler Youth as a protagonist.

A Critical Cinema 5 is the fifth volume in Scott MacDonald's Critical Cinema series, the most extensive, in-depth exploration of independent cinema available in English.

The literature of Scandinavia is amazingly rich and varied, consisting of the works produced by the countries of Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Finland and Iceland, and stretching from the ancient Norse Sagas to the present day. While much of it is unknown outside of the region, some has gained worldwide popularity, including the fairy tales of Hans Christian Andersen, the stories of Isak Dinesen, and the plays of Henrik Ibsen and August Strindberg. While obviously including the area's most famous works, the Historical Dictionary of Scandinavian Literature and Theater also provides information on lesser known authors and currents trends, literary circles and journals, and historical background. This is accomplished through a list of acronyms, a chronology, an introductory essay, a bibliography, and several hundred cross-referenced dictionary entries, which together make this reference the most comprehensive and up to date work of its kind related to Scandinavian literature and theater available anywhere.

The last thirty years have witnessed one of the most fertile periods in the history of children's books. A fascinating reference guide to the world of children's literature, this volume covers every genre from fairy tales to chapbooks; school stories to science fiction; comics to children's hymns

In a nuanced exploration of how Western cinema has represented East Asia as a space of radical indecipherability, Homay King traces the long-standing association of the Orient with the enigmatic. The fantasy of an inscrutable East, she argues, is not merely a side note to film history, but rather a kernel of otherness that has shaped Hollywood cinema at its core. Through close readings of The Lady from Shanghai, Chinatown, Blade Runner, Lost in Translation, and other films, she develops a theory of the “Shanghai gesture,” a trope whereby orientalist curios and décor become saturated with mystery. These objects and signs come to bear the burden of explanation for riddles that escape the Western protagonist or cannot be otherwise resolved by the plot. Turning to visual texts from outside Hollywood which actively grapple with the association of the East and the unintelligible—such as Michelangelo Antonioni’s Chung Kuo: Cina, Wim Wenders’s Notebook on Cities and Clothes, and Sophie Calle’s Exquisite Pain—King suggests alternatives to the paranoid logic of the Shanghai gesture. She argues for the development of a process of cultural “de-translation” aimed at both untangling the psychic enigmas prompting the initial desire to separate the familiar from the foreign, and heightening attentiveness to the internal alterities underlying Western subjectivity.