"History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake." Stephen Dedalus's famous complaint articulates a characteristic modern attitude toward the perceived burden of the past. As Robert Spoo shows in this study, Joyce's creative achievement, from the time of his sojourn in Rome in 1906-07 to the completion of Ulysses in 1922, cannot be understood apart from the ferment of historical thought that dominated the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Tracing James Joyce's historiographic art to its formative contexts, Spoo reveals a modernist author passionately engaged with the problem of history, forging a new language that both dramatizes and redefines that problem.

The Nightmare of History: The Fictions of Virginia Woolf and D. H. Lawrence is an attempt to show the influence of the First World War on the literary and cultural attitudes of these two seminal, yet very different, writers. It demonstrates that Woolf and Lawrence shared many perspectives about the dislocations and horrors created by war, as well as potential, although probably unachievable, cultural resurrection. Helen Wussow reveals that the authors' uses of language, their shaping of verbal forms applied simultaneously to issues of personal relationship and public or cultural history, show remarkable similarities. She argues that the works of these two authors are informed by the dynamics of conflict. Yet, at the same time, Wussow is always aware of significant differences between Lawrence's and Woolf's fictions.

Through the narratives and testimonies of Bosnian refugees who survived ethnic cleansing in Bosnia-Herzegovina, this title demonstrates how ethnic cleansing has worked its way into people's lives and memories

“A very powerful and unsettling story of our nation’s century-long ‘pogrom’ by vengeful white Southerners against their black neighbors.” —The Washington Times For a hundred years after the end of the Civil War, a quarter of all Americans lived under a system of legalized segregation called Jim Crow. Together with its rigidly enforced canon of racial “etiquette,” these rules governed nearly every aspect of life—and outlined draconian punishments for infractions. The purpose of Jim Crow was to keep African Americans subjugated at a level as close as possible to their former slave status. Exceeding even South Africa’s notorious apartheid in the humiliation, degradation, and suffering it brought, Jim Crow left scars on the American psyche that are still felt today. American Nightmare examines and explains Jim Crow from its beginnings to its end: how it came into being, how it was lived, how it was justified, and how, at long last, it was overcome only a few short decades ago. Most importantly, this book reveals how a nation founded on principles of equality and freedom came to enact as law a pervasive system of inequality and virtual slavery. Although America has finally consigned Jim Crow to the historical graveyard, Jerrold Packard shows why it is important that this scourge—and an understanding of how it happened—remain alive in the nation’s collective memory. “Sweeping history . . . Packard compels us to remember that one cannot effectively confront the challenges posed by contemporary race relations without recognizing the agonies of the American past.” —The Christian Science Monitor

There are basic problems, and if we can't solve them we should hold off on theorizing. To begin at the beginning, what was Father Flynn's "great wish" for the boy in "The Sisters"? The uncle thinks he knows, but is he right? Can we be sure? How? And how about the beginning and end of "An Encounter"? How do they fit together? What is the specific import to the boy in "Araby" of the shards of conversation between the salesgirl and the Britishers? Can we (or Eveline) be certain of Frank's motives in her story? If not, what relevance do they have? And how in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man do Stephen's use and understanding of art evolve? In what crucial respects do they fall short of the understanding a careful reader of the novel can attain? What in Ulysses does Buck Mulligan have in mind when he demands "twopence for a pint" (of what!)? And in what ways are Bloom's ruminations about things like "mity cheese" that "digests all but itself" and saltwater fish ("Why is it that [they] are not...") crucial to the novel? There are bigger questions. What roles do all the accidental occurrences play? Do they heighten or diminish causality and probability? What are the functions of allusion and stylistic experimentation? Is/are there any overriding significance/s to the whole? Is there a didactic component in Joyce's writing? If so, is the didactic element a flaw in his art? What is the relationship between art and instruction--in Joyce and in general? Is good didactic art a contradiction in terms? These latter questions are enticing, but to speculate, theorize, deconstruct, or decontextualize Joyce's works with regard to them without a firm understanding, and perhaps even answers to, the vital though sometimes seemingly trivial former questions is to abrogate critical responsibility and relinquish what one of the formative giants of the twentieth century has to say to us. When relevant, the former are almost always answerable, and the mundane answers, often surprising, are frequently crucial not only for answering the latter questions but for fresh insight into both Joyce's world and our own. By mapping routes to the revelations such mundane "facts" yield, The Cracked Lookingglass establishes a firm base for future interpretations of Joyce's stories from Dubliners through Ulysses. It approaches his works as "fictional histories," grounding its "examplary" readings in relationships among the underlying facts of Joyce's created worlds. The study presents both a method of inquiry and, as examples of its fruit, some of the ways in which the apparent undiscoverables of Joyce's fiction disclose new and indisputable insights into his characters and stories, and through them our world. The approach opens avenues of access to the depths of Dubliners; to the assessments of art, religion, and human relationships in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man; to the necessitous underpinnings of Joyce's experimentation in Ulysses, the ground and justification of his uses of "psychocasual chance," the "mythical method," and the seemingly gratuitous stylistic experiments that mirror our lives and suggest new directions for them.

#1 INTERNATIONAL BESTSELLER • A timeless, structure-bending classic that explores how actions of individual lives impact the past, present and future—from a postmodern visionary and one of the leading voices in fiction Featuring a new afterword by David Mitchell and a new introduction by Gabrielle Zevin, author of Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow One of the New York Times’s 100 Best Books of the 21st Century • Shortlisted for the International Booker Prize Cloud Atlas begins in 1850 with Adam Ewing, an American notary voyaging from the Chatham Isles to his home in California. Ewing is befriended by a physician, Dr. Goose, who begins to treat him for a rare species of brain parasite. The novel careens, with dazzling virtuosity, to Belgium in 1931, to the West Coast in the 1970s, to an inglorious present-day England, to a Korean superstate of the near future where neocapitalism has run amok, and, finally, to a postapocalyptic Iron Age Hawaii in the last days of history. But the story doesn’t end even there. The novel boomerangs back through centuries and space, returning by the same route, in reverse, to its starting point. Along the way, David Mitchell reveals how his disparate characters connect, how their fates intertwine, and how their souls drift across time like clouds across the sky. As wild as a video game, as mysterious as a Zen koan, Cloud Atlas is an unforgettable tour de force that, like its incomparable author, has transcended its cult classic status to become a worldwide phenomenon.