Summary of the Snowmastodon Project Special Volume: A high-elevation, multi-proxy biotic and environmental record of MIS 6-4 from the Ziegler Reservoir fossil site, Snowmass Village, Colorado, USA

In North America, terrestrial records of biodiversity and climate change that span Marine Oxygen Isotope Stage (MIS) 5 are rare. Where found, they provide insight into how the coupling of the ocean-atmosphere system is manifested in biotic and environmental records and how the biosphere responds to climate change. In 2010-2011, construction at Ziegler Reservoir near Snowmass Village, Colorado (USA) revealed a nearly continuous, lacustrine/wetland sedimentary sequence that preserved evidence of past plant communities between similar to 140 and 55 lea, including all of MIS 5. At an elevation of 2705 m, the Ziegler Reservoir fossil site also contained thousands of well-preserved bones of late Pleistocene megafauna, including mastodons, mammoths, ground sloths, horses, camels, deer, bison, black bear, coyotes, and bighorn sheep. In addition, the site contained more than 26,000 bones from at least 30 species of small animals including salamanders, otters, muskrats, minks, rabbits, beavers, frogs, lizards, snakes, fish, and birds. The combination of macro- and micro-vertebrates, invertebrates, terrestrial and aquatic plant macrofossils, a detailed pollen record, and a robust, directly dated stratigraphic framework shows that high-elevation ecosystems in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado are climatically sensitive and varied dramatically throughout MIS 5 

Understanding Young People’s Transitions from State Care: the need for connections,

Over the last decade in a growing number of countries there has emerged an interest in the experiences of young people leaving state care. This has included a limited amount of cross national comparison. This paper reports the bleak descriptive picture of poor outcomes and lack of support that has emerged
but cautions that this be recognised as primarily expressing an Anglo-American descriptive empirical engagement with the issue. It then goes on to argue for using Esping-Anderson’s three types of welfare regime and the European Union policy goal of social inclusion as starting points to develop a more dynamic, systemic international picture of care leaving.

'A Land Beyond the Wave': Transnational Perspectives on Easter 1916

Despite the appeal and significance of nationalism as a near universal political force, Irish historians – in common with the historians of most nationalist movements – have struggled to analyse nationalism from beyond the perspective of the nation state. The reasons for this are varied, arising both from practical aspects, such as the availability and accessibility of sources, to more conceptual issues such as the resilience of the national perspective in the framing of historiographical narratives. This paper considers the Easter Rising as a case study in assessing how a transnational framework complicates traditional historiographical perspectives. Accounts of the Easter Rising generally interpret the rebellion within local, national, or international (particularly Anglo-Irish or imperial) frameworks. Interpretations that adopt a broader framework have tended to focus on international rather than transnational dimensions: the First World War context, revolutionary links with Germany, and the role of the United States. This paper assesses the potential of a transnational approach by analysing four aspects of the Rising: the significance of the transnational movement of people prior to the event; the influence of the transnational circulation of political ideas; the impact of transnational cultural currents in shaping the framing of revolutionary ideals; and the impact of the Rising on Irish nationalist communities beyond Ireland.

Protestantism, Spectacle, Motherhood and Vice: Dublin's New Pleasure Gardens

In 1748, Bartholomew Mosse, a curious combination of surgeon, obstetrician and entertainment impresario, established a pleasure garden on the northern fringes of Dublin. Ostensibly designed to fund the construction of a maternity hospital to be located adjacently, Mosse’s New Pleasure Gardens became one of the premier leisure resorts in Dublin. This was to have a profound effect on the city’s urban form. Within a few years the gardens became an epicentre of speculative development as the upper classes jostled to build their houses in the vicinity. Meanwhile, the creation nearby of Sackville Mall, a wide and generous strolling ground, established a whole section of the city dedicated to haute spectacle, display and leisure. Like other pleasure gardens in the British Isles, Mosse’s venture introduced new, commodified forms of entertainment. In the colonial context of eighteenth-century Ireland, however, ‘a land only recently won and insecurely held’ (Foster, 1988) by the Protestant Anglo-Irish settler class, the production of culture and spectacle was perhaps more significant than elsewhere. Indeed, the form of Mosse’s gardens echoed the private city gardens of a key figure in the Anglo-Irish aristocracy, while the hospital itself was constructed in a style of a Palladian country house, symbol of colonial presence in the countryside. However, like other pleasure gardens, the mix of music and alcohol, the heterogeneous crowd culled from across social and gender boundaries, and a landscape punctuated with secluded corners, meant that it also acquired a dubious reputation as a haunt of louche and illicit behaviours. The curious juxtaposition between a maternity hospital and pleasure garden, therefore, begins to assume other, hitherto hidden complexities. These are borne out by a closer examination of the architecture of the hospital, the shape of its landscape and the records of its patrons and patients.

Dublin 1916: theatre of revolt

At Easter 1916, Dublin city centre was one of a series of sites throughout Ireland where a rebellion was staged against British rule. It was a strategic failure, swiftly crushed by superior British forces. The event, however, subsequently took a central role in the mythology of modern Ireland.

The first visual representations were of the conflict’s aftermath: photographic journeys through landscapes of ruin. From the distance of the camera, we see none of the pockmarks of shell bursts, nor the etchings of machine guns. Instead, traces of life in the city seem to have been swept aside by an unseen hand: the passing of millennia or a violent action of nature. Architecture alone has witnessed and recorded its presence. Amongst the fragments, the shell of the General Post Office (G.P.O.) in Sackville Street is one of the few buildings still wholly recognizable. The remnants of its classical form, portico and pediment, columns and entablature seem to transcend its prosaic modern functions and allude to something more ancient. The bewilderment of city’s inhabitants is also recorded. Dubliners have become inquisitive tourists in streets which hitherto were the locus of everyday life. They wander around aimlessly in a landscape as alien and picturesque as Pompeii. This shift in perception was captured by the Irish poet W.B. Yeats who hinted that Dublin, purged of modern commercialism had transcended its petty inadequacies to revive a slumbering heroic past.

‘I have met them at the close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses [.]’
All is changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.’

His comments were prescient. Initially unpopular, the republican leaders, executed by the British, slowly became recast as heroic martyrs. Similarly, the spaces where their heroism was forged became venerated. The G.P.O. and Sackville Street, however, already had a republican history. It was originally conceived in the eighteenth century as part of a series of magnificent urban spaces to provide an arena of spectacle and self-celebration for the colonial Anglo-Irish and their vision of a Protestant republic. O’Connell/Sackville Street became the temporal, geographical and mythical hinge upon which two different versions of Irish republicanism waxed and waned. Its recasting after independence as a space of Catholic Nationalism bore testimony to its consistency in providing a backdrop for the production of ritual and myth. In the 1920s and 30s, as the nascent country, beset with economic stagnation and political tensions, turned to spectacle as a salve for it social problems, O’Connell Street and the G.P.O. provided its most sacred sites. Within the introduction of new myths, however, individual as well as national identities were created and consolidated. The emerging identity of modern Ireland became inextricably linked with that of one ambitious politician. His uses of the G.P.O. in particular revealed a perceptive understanding of the political uses of classical architecture and urban space.

The Brut Tradition

This article tracks the development of the Brut tradition, from its inception in the ninth century text the Historia Brittonum, via Geoffrey of Monmouth’s twelfth century Historia Regum Britannaie, Wace’s Roman de Brut and Layamon’s Brut (both twelfth century), to the myriad Prose Bruts, in Anglo-Norman, Latin and Middle English, from the thirteenth to the sixteenth centuries. It argues that the Brut is best understood both as a distinctive literary tradition and as a well-spring of mythography from which a range of late medieval, and post-medieval, writers drew. The article indicates the utility of the Brut tradition to emergent notions of English identity and the role the narratives recorded by the Brut tradition played in orchestrating English colonial attitudes to its insular and continental neighbours. The article concludes by assessing the importance of the Brut tradition for book culture and emergent models of literary taste in the later Middle Ages