The Church of the Abandoned Christ: David Peace's 'Red Riding Quartet' and the Wreck of the White Ship

David Peace’s novel Nineteen Seventy-seven concludes with the hack journalist Jack Whitehead being granted a terrifying apocalyptic vision, seconds before he is trepanned with a Phillips screwdriver by the sinister Reverend Martin Laws. Included in this vision is a curious reference to the wreck of the White Ship, a maritime disaster in 1120 that drowned William Atheling, heir to the English throne, and ultimately doomed England to years of civil war. This article explores Peace’s strange use of the shipwreck in his “Red Riding Quartet,” particularly the way he links it—in the quartet’s final volume, Nineteen Eighty Three—to a revisionist account of the aftermath of the crucifixion that leads a wounded Christ to a tragic death in the cold waters of the English Channel.

Hollywood and world cinema influences: tracing intertextuality in the works of two contemporary filmmakers from Francophone Africa; Mahamat Saleh Haroun and Abderrahmane Sissako

Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass Anton Chekhov Representations of Africa in cinema are almost as old as cinema itself and date back to Hollywood’s silent era. Most early examples feature the continent as a mere exotic backdrop and include The Sheik (Melford 1921), soon followed, in 1926, by George Fitzmaurice’s Son of the Sheik starring Rudolph Valentino. The next decade brought Van Dyke’s Tarzan movies, Robert Stevenson’s King Solomon’s Mines (1937), and, on the European side, Duvivier’s Pépé le Moko (1936). For representations of Francophone Africa by Africans themselves, the viewing public more or less had to wait, however, until decolonisation in the 1960s (with, for example, Sembene Ousmane’s Borom Sarret and La Noire de…, both released in 1966 and, in 1968, Mandabi). Since then Francophone African cinema has come a long way and has diversified into various strands. Between Borom Sarret and Mahamat-Saleh Haroun’s 2006 Daratt, Saison sèche - or the same director’s Un homme qui crie, almost half a century has elapsed. Over this period, films inevitably have addressed a spectrum of visual, ideological and political tropes. They range from unadorned depictions of the newly independent states and their societies to highly aestheticised productions, not to mention surreal and poetic visions as displayed for instance in Djibril Diop Mambéty’s Touki Bouki (1973). Most of the early films send an overt socio-political message which is a clear and explicit denunciation of a corrupt state of affairs (Souleymane Cissé’s Baara, 1977). They aim to trigger strong emotional and political responses from the viewer, in unambiguous support for the film-maker’s stand. Sembene himself declared: “I consider cinema a means of political action” (Murphy 2000: 221). Similarly, the Mauritanian director Med Hondo wishes to “take up this technical medium and to make it a mouthpiece on behalf of [his] fellow Africans and Arabs” (Jeffries 2002: 11). All this echoes the claims of the Fédération Panafricaine des Cinéastes (FEPACI, founded in 1969), an organisation “dedicated to the liberation of Africa”. In sharp contrast to the incipient momentum given Francophonie by Bourguiba, the Nigerien Hamani Diori and the Senegalese Senghor, who invoked a worldwide communauté organique francophone, FEPACI called for “the creation of an aesthetics of disalienation… [using] didactic... forms to denounce the alienation of countries that were politically independent but culturally and economically dependent on the West” (Diawara 1996: 40). Sembene’s Xala (1974) became the blueprint for this, to this day the best-known vein of Francophone African cinema. Thus considered, this pedigree seems a million miles from mainstream global cinema with its overriding mission to entertain. A question therefore arises: to what extent can a cinema that sprang from such beginnings be seen to interface in any meaningful way with a global film industry that, overwhelmingly and for a century, has indeed entertained the world – with Hollywood at its centre?

Theorising and analysing digital labour: from global value chains to modes of production

This paper considers the following question—where do computers, laptops and mobile phones come from and who produced them? Specific cases of digital labour are examined—the extraction of minerals in African mines under slave-like conditions; ICT manufacturing and assemblage in China (Foxconn); software engineering in India; call centre service work; software engineering at Google within Silicon Valley; and the digital labour of internet prosumers/users. Empirical data and empirical studies concerning these cases are systematically analysed and theoretically interpreted. The theoretical interpretations are grounded in Marxist political economy. The term ‘global value chain’ is criticised in favour of a complex and multidimensional understanding of Marx’s ‘mode of production’ for the purposes of conceptualizing digital labour. This kind of labour is transnational and involves various modes of production, relations of production and organisational forms (in the context of the productive forces). There is a complex global division of digital labour that connects and articulates various forms of productive forces, exploitation, modes of production, and variations within the dominant capitalist mode of production.

Defining the nation, defining public television: discourses of publics on public service television in post-communist Latvia

Institutional and political economy approaches have long dominated the study of post-Communist public broadcasting, as well as the entire body of post-Communist media transformations research, and the enquiry into publics of public broadcasting has traditionally been neglected. Though media scholars like to talk about a deep crisis in the relationship between public broadcasters and their publics in former Communist bloc countries across Central and Eastern Europe, little has been done to understand the relationship between public broadcasters and their publics in these societies drawing on qualitative audience research tradition. Building on Hirschman’s influential theory of ‘exit, voice and loyalty’, which made it possible to see viewing choices audiences make as an act of agency, in combination with theoretical tools developed within the framework of social constructionist approaches to national imagination and broadcasting, my study focuses on the investigation of responses publics of the Latvian public television LTV have developed vis-à-vis its role as contributing to the nation-building project in this ex-Soviet Baltic country. With the help of focus groups methodology and family ethnography, the thesis aims to explore the relationship between the way members of the ethno-linguistic majority of Latvian-speakers and the sizeable ethno-linguistic minority of Russian-speakers conceptualize the public broadcaster LTV, as well as understand the concept of public broadcasting more generally, and the way they define the national ‘we’. The study concludes that what I call publics of LTV employ Hirschman’s described exit mechanism as a voice-type response. Through their rejection of public television which, for a number of complex reasons they consider to be a state broadcaster serving the interests of those in power they voice their protest against the country’s political establishment and in the case of its Russian-speaking publics also against the government’s ethno-nationalistic conception of the national ‘we’. I also find that though having exited from the public broadcaster LTV, its publics have not abandoned the idea of public broadcasting as such. At least at a normative level the public broadcasting ideals are recognized, accepted and valued, though they are not necessarily associated with the country’s de jure institutional embodiment of public broadcasting LTV. Rejection of the public television has also not made its non-loyal publics ‘less citizens’. The commercial rivals of LTV, be they national or, in the case of Russian-speaking audiences, localized transnational Russian television, have allowed their viewers to exercise citizenship and be loyal nationals day in day out in a way that is more liberal and flexible than the hegemonic form of citizenship and national imagination of the public television LTV can offer.

Cappadocia: where Greek prepositions come to die

The Cappadocian variety of Ulaghátsh is unique among the Greek-speaking world in having lost the inherited preposition ‘se’. The innovation is found with both locative and allative uses and has af-ected both syntactic contexts in which ‘se’ was originally found, that is, as a simple preposition (1) and as the left-occurring member of circumpositions of the type ‘se’ + NP + spatial adverb (2). (1) a. tránse ci [to meidán] en ávʝa see.PST.3SG COMP ART.DEF.SG.ACC yard.SG.ACC COP.3 game.PL.NOM ‘he saw that in the yard is some game’ (Dawkins 1916: 348) b. ta erʝó da qardáʃa évɣan [to qonáq] ART.DEF.PL.NOM two ART.DEF.PL.NOM friend.PL.NOM ascend.PST.3PL ART.DEF.SG.ACC house.SG.ACC ‘the two friends went up to the house’ (Dawkins 1916: 354) (2) émi [ta qonáca mésa], kiríʃde [to ʝasdɯ́q píso] enter.PST.3SG ART.DEF.PL.NOM house.PL.ACC inside hide.PST.3SG. ART.DEF.SG.ACC cushion.SG.ACC behind ‘he went into the houses and hid behind the cushions’ (Dawkins 1916: 348) In this paper, we set out to provide (a) a diachronic account of the loss of ‘se’ in Asia Minor Greek, and (b) a synchronic analysis of its ramifications for the encoding of the semantic and grammatical functions it had prior to its loss. The diachronic development of ‘se’ is traced by comparing the Ulaghátsh data with those obtained from Cappadocian varieties that have neither lost it nor do they show signs of losing it and, crucially, also from varieties in which ‘se’ is in the process of being lost. The comparative analysis shows that the loss first became manifest in circumpositions in which ‘se’ was preposed to the complement to which in turn a wide range of adverbs expressing topological relations were postposed (émi sa qonáca mésa > émi ta qonáca mésa). This finding is accounted for in terms of Sinha and Kuteva’s (1995) distributed spatial semantics framework, which accepts that the elements involved in the constructions under investigation—the verb (émi), ‘se’ and the spatial adverb (mésa)—all contribute to the expression of the spatial relational meaning but with differences in weighting. Of the three, ‘eis’ made the most minimal contribution, the bulk of it being distributed over the verb and the adverb. This allowed for it to be optionally dropped from circumpositions, a stage attested in Phlo-tá Cappadocian and Silliot, and to be later completely abandoned, originally in allative and subsequently in locative contexts (earlier: évɣan so qonáq > évɣan to qonáq; later: so meidán en ávʝa > to meidán en ávʝa). The earlier loss in allative contexts is also dealt with in distributed semantics terms as verbs of motion such as έβγαν are semantically more loaded than vacuous verbs like the copula and therefore the preposition could be left out in the former context more easily than in the latter. The analysis also addresses the possibility that the loss of ‘se’ may ultimately originate in substandard forms of Medieval Greek, which according to Tachibana (1994) displayed SPATIAL ADVERB + NP constructions. Applying the semantic map model (Croft 2003, Haspelmath 2003), the synchronic analysis of the varieties that retain ‘se’ reveals that—like many other allative markers crosslinguistically—it displays a pattern of multifunctionality in expressing nine different functions (among others allative, locative, recipient, addressee, experiencer), which can be mapped against four domains, viz. the spatiotemporal, the social, the mental and the logicotextual (cf. Rice & Kabata 2007). In Ulaghátsh Cappadocian, none of these functions is overtly marked as such. In cases like (1), the intended spatial relational meaning is arrived at through the combination of the syntax and the inherent semantics of the verb and the zero-marked NP as well as from the context. In environments of the type exemplified by (2), the adverb contributes further to the correct interpretation. The analysis additionally shows that, despite the loss of ‘se’, Ulaghátsh patterns with all other Cappadocian varieties in one important aspect: Goal and Location are expressed similarly (by zero in Ulaghátsh, by ‘se’ in the other varieties) whereas Source is being kept distinct (expressed by ‘apó’ in all varieties). Goal-Location polysemy is very common across the world’s languages and, most crucially, prevails over other possible polysemies in the tripartite distinction Source—Location—Goal (Lestrade 2010, Nikitina 2009). Taking into account this empirical observation, our findings suggest that the reor-anisation of spatial systems can have a local effect—in our case the loss of a member of the prepositional paradigm—but will keep the original global picture intact, thus conforming to crosslinguistically robust tendencies.  References Croft, W. 2001. Radical Construction Grammar: Syntactic Theory in Typological Perspective. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dawkins, R. M. 1916. Modern Greek in Asia Minor: A Study of the Dialects of Sílli, Cappadocia and Phárasa with Grammar, Texts, Translations and Glossary. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Haspelmath, M. 2003. The geometry of grammatical meaning: semantic maps and cross-linguistic comparison. In M. Tomasello (Ed.), The New Psychology of Language, Volume 2. New York: Erlbaum, 211–243. Lestrade, S. 2010. The Space of Case. Doctoral dissertation. Radboud University Nijmegen. Nikitina, T. 2009. Subcategorization pattern and lexical meaning of motion verbs: a study of the source/goal ambiguity. Linguistics 47, 1113–1141. Rice, S. & K. Kabata. 2007. Cross-linguistic grammaticalization patterns of the allative. Linguistic Typology 11, 451–514. Sinha, C. & T. Kuteva. 1995. Distributed spatial semantics. Nordic Journal of Linguistics 18:2, 167–199. Tachibana, T. 1994. Syntactic structure of spatial expressions in the “Late Byzantine Prose Alexander Romance”. Propylaia 6, 35–51.