Documenting Legacies: The Stuart Hall Project: Revolution, Politics, Culture and the New Left Experience (John Akomfrah, 2013)
John Akomfrah’s film, The Stuart Hall Project: Revolution, Politics, Culture and the New Left Experience, was screened at the Cultural Studies and New Uses of Literacies Symposium where it was introduced by a former doctoral student of Stuart Hall, Professor James Donald, Dean of Arts and Social Sciences at UNSW, Australia. The Editors invited Dr Marcel Swiboda to write an article on the film; his article was peer reviewed.
Author: Marcel Swiboda, School of Fine Art, History of Art and Cultural Studies, University of Leeds (UK)
Academics and the general public have recently had numerous opportunities to read about the work of the cultural theorist, public intellectual, educator and activist Stuart Hall in the mainstream media. In England, a country whose press tends to take an interest in the life and work of intellectuals only in exceptional circumstances, two such sets of circumstances have been responsible for the attention that Hall has received of late. First, John Akomfrah’s film documenting the life and work of Hall, The Stuart Hall Project: Revolution, Politics, Culture and the New Left Experience, gained positive critical reviews as it did the rounds at numerous international film festivals since premiering at Sundance in January, 2013.  Second, in February 2014, Hall passed away after a protracted period of illness, at the age of 82. Within barely a year-long window of time, numerous reviews of the film and Hall obituaries were published in several daily newspapers, as well as online, variously reminding those already familiar with Hall of the range and extent of his achievements, while introducing unfamiliar readers to this important intellectual and public figure.
Akomfrah’s film, for its part, also serves as a reminder of Hall’s achievements, and as an introduction for viewers who have yet to encounter him. Yet the manner in which the film does this, unlike the synoptic accounts comprising many of the obituaries and reviews of his film, is far from straightforwardly biographical. The Stuart Hall Project is a documentary film that appropriately eschews a schematic approach to its focus, opting instead for a complex documentation of what the film’s opening intertitles describe as the “multiple lives of a multicultural subject made entirely from his film, television, radio and photographic archives,” as well as “musical fragments.” In The Stuart Hall Project, Akomfrah brings a wealth of experimental filmmaking talent and experience to the task of documenting the film’s titular subject, honed over three decades, through Akomfrah’s work as part of the erstwhile Black Audio Film Collective in the 1980s and 1990s, and in his subsequent solo-signed projects.
Among the reviews of the film that have thus far been written, both in the mainstream press and in more academic outlets, one finds Peter Bradshaw’s somewhat cursory appraisal in The Guardian, whose reminder that cultural studies is “a deeply considered project that reconsiders culture and identity for those excluded from the circles of power through race, gender and class” proves prescient given the current instrumentalisation of academia.  Sadly, despite being a film critic, Bradshaw has little to say about the actual film itself. Also in The Guardian, Tim Adams offered a more extensive engagement with Akomfrah’s film, which substantially benefits from the inclusion of Akomfrah’s own insights, especially regarding Hall’s and the film’s respective relationships with music.  At the more academic end of the spectrum, Adam Elliott-Cooper has produced a far longer piece comprising a review and reflections on Stuart Hall’s critical and political legacies, with which it engages in some critical detail. That said, Elliott-Cooper’s piece ultimately errs more in the direction of reflections rather than review, and therefore also has surprisingly little to say about the film. In terms of cinematic engagement, Ashley Clark’s review for Sight and Sound proves more rewarding, providing as it does a detailed examination of the film within the context of Akomfrah’s work more broadly, as well as drawing attention to the role played by his key collaborator Trevor Mathison in producing the all-important soundtrack to the film.
As Clark attests, The Stuart Hall Project can be productively read in the context of his earlier works — including both his solo-signed and Black Audio Film Collective projects — in terms of the particular style of his directorial approach to audiovisual documentary practice. Clark pertinently describes how the work of Stuart Hall influenced the earlier films that Akomfrah directed, in particular how Hall’s ground-breaking essay on “Encoding and Decoding in the Television Discourse” influenced the “collagist documentary devices” that Akomfrah developed for his landmark 1987 film Handsworth Songs. In Handsworth Songs, mounted portraits of first generation Afro-Caribbean immigrants to Britain are situated alongside archive footage linking individual experiences of the Windrush generation to the historical, social, economic and cultural circumstances in which they occurred.  The opening montage of The Stuart Hall Project also makes use of such devices, most notably the in-camera use of portrait photography, framing a series of table-mounted photographs of the young Hall, intercut with archive television footage of him from his later professional life.
In one photograph we see Hall posing in a pristine white tennis outfit, in another standing with his sister, and in a third we see an image of him on thee deck of a ship. As the film unfolds, these images individually and collectively disclose their abundant significance. They variously point to what Hall’s formative experiences of growing up in Jamaica: how colonialism affected his youth in Kingston, informed his education, impacted on his home life, and presaged his passage to Britain in 1951. They also indexically punctuate Hall’s retrospective, first person, mature reflections on his formative years as featured on the soundtrack — the class and colour stratifications that caused major rifts not just within Caribbean society at large, but within Hall’s family, with traumatic consequences.
In particular one learns of the young Hall siblings’ troubled relationship to their mother and her decision to internally draw the class/colour-line within the family. We hear Hall describe the nervous breakdown his sister suffered when their mother bluntly refused to endorse a relationship with a black doctor — a breakdown from which Hall’s sister never fully recovered and, with regard to his own experience — a mounted photograph of his younger self in the frame —Hall’s mature adult voice intones: “I was three shades darker than my family and its first social fact I knew about myself.” For the aspiring young academic this was an experience which, coupled with the racism he encountered when he settled in Britain, would fundamentally inform his sense of non-belonging, a sense that for all that it is palpably painful, is of crucial significance personally and intellectually in Hall’s work. 
Much later in his career, Hall’s ideas would make a significant contribution to the debates surrounding what came to be termed multiculturalism. In doing so, unlike so many others who have adopted this term, he would insist on placing it in question rather than prescribing definitions, levering its conceptual potential as part of a critical vocabulary for affirming cultural difference, in all of its complexity. As The Stuart Hall Project illustrates, Hall’s experiences of racism, qua the disavowal of difference, would always inform his critical and conceptual engagements with questions of culture, in ways that attest to cultural studies’ early stated objective of analysing culture not as an inert set of objects but as what Raymond Williams termed ‘lived culture’ — a facet of the original project of cultural studies that has faded into the background in the last few decades, yet whose ongoing significance is foregrounded by Akomfrah in his unique take on the intellectual biopic.
Conjuncture as Cinematic Structuring Device
The use of archival footage of landmark political and historical events is also a mainstay of Akomfrah’s work. Extensive use of this approach features throughout The Stuart Hall Project, whereby the seismic events of post-War history and the particularity of Afrodiasporic experience often traumatically coincide. Borrowing from the Italian Marxist philosopher Antonio Gramsci, Hall gave an eminently apt name to such turbulent and traumatic co-incidences: conjunctures. For Gramsci, the conceptual term “conjuncture” was used to describe an “ensemble of immediate and transitory peculiarities of [an] economic situation.” The concept was refashioned by the Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies (CCCS) at Birmingham, with Hall’s input, to link knowledge and theorisation regarding culture to empirical political and social struggles.
For Hall, conjunctures admit of critical potential because they allow for connections to be made between historical past and present in ways that attend to the complexity of history and social structures: as we hear him say in the film, he “never believed in the moment of absolute break [between past and present]” because “every new configuration contains masses of the old.” At these points one is reminded of what distinguishes Hall’s approach to social and political struggles from more dogmatic, less rigorously critical affirmations of radical or revolutionary transformation. One also learns in the process what fundamentally links the project of cultural studies in its first few decades to The Stuart Hall Project.
As well as being an element of the film’s narrative and critical focus, the concept of the conjuncture provides it with a key structuring device. Divided into episodic, broadly chronological sequences, in documenting Hall’s life and work the film situates his experiences and memories as part of the social, political, economic and cultural conjunctures which informed Hall’s adoption of this term in the first place: The shift from the colonial world of his upbringing to the postcolonial world, the black experience in Britain in the post-War era and more particularly the shift from the nascent possibility of what Hall in one piece of archive footage describes as “accommodation and adjustment” in the 1950s, through its state-sponsored erosion in the 1960s, to “multicultural drift” in the 70s and 80s.
These conjunctural shifts are set in the broader context of the geopolitical upheavals of the same period: the failed revolution in Hungary, revolution in Cuba and the seizing of the Suez Canal by Egypt in the 1950s, anti-colonialist struggles in Africa, Civil Rights and the Black Power movement in the USA in the 1950s and 1960s and the latter’s war in Vietnam in the 1960s and 1970s. They are also set in relief by other developments affecting the UK during this period: youth subcultures, anti-nuclear protests, the sexual revolution and the rise of feminism — all of which would inform and ultimately help transform cultural studies from being the peculiarly British, class-based and predominantly male concern it was in the early years of its development in the late 1950s and 1960s, into the international interdisciplinary field of study it has since become.
As an audiovisual device the role of the conjuncture is well exemplified at the outset of the film in the documentary footage from Hall’s Open University broadcasts, where he is heard to say, “in this programme we look at how social change effects our sense of who we are, what we feel entitled to, and what society makes available to us,” juxtaposed to the photograph of the young Hall in the tennis kit. A few seconds later, broadcast footage of Hall effectively introducing the field of cultural studies to his audience finds him stating how the programme he is about to present “shows how the everyday and mundane elements of our lives can affect the person we become, and provide an accurate barometer of social change.” These inclusions richly testify to Hall’s exceptional pedagogic ability to translate often very complex theoretical and critical conceptual configurations, such as conjunctures, by means of everyday language and empirical illustration, into more widely accessible and comprehensible idioms.
Sound Matters 1: Trevor Mathison
An all-important role is played by sound and music in The Stuart Hall Project, in large measure due to the outstanding work of long-time Akomfrah collaborator Trevor Mathison and his signature approach to combining composed music and electronic soundscapes. Having honed his own distinctive approach to soundtracking through his work with the Black Audio Film Collective, Mathison’s unique ability to harness the critical and affective force of this combination is put strikingly to work in the film. What is most noteworthy here is the use made of composed music, most of which is sourced from the catalogues of other musicians, meticulously edited and incorporated into the soundtrack as a whole, alongside archive-derived voices and sounds — most notably the distinctive voice of Hall — and Mathison’s electronic soundscapes.
Consider the use made of the hammered dulcimer ostinatos of the German multi-instrumentalist Stephan Micus, from his Ocean project, alternating with the jazz piano refrains from Ketil Björnstad’s album The River. The dulcimer’s shimmering, crystalline sound constitutes a malleable aural correlate to diverse visual figures in the film, from the recurring images of sea-born transatlantic passage to those of impoverishment and social upheaval in the Caribbean, in the period of decolonisation.  Less striking but no less affectively powerful are Björnstad’s recurring piano motifs. While using such materials in these ways might elsewhere testify to the standardised conventions of incidental music, in this film they attest to what the German dramatist Bertolt Brecht once described as the need for a film to comprise an “aggregate of independent arts” if it is to succeed in being critical. In the mode and manner of its construction, The Stuart Hall Project dispenses with the conventional hierarchical relationships between vision and sound along such lines and it is such an approach that marks it out as a thoroughly critical audiovisual experiment.
The use of pre-composed music in The Stuart Hall Project resonates with the remarkable moment in Handsworth Songs featuring Mark Stewart and the Mafia’s astonishing dub versioning of the composer Hubert Parry’s appropriation of the William Blake poem “And Did Those Feet…” in his de facto English national anthem “Jerusalem” — juxtaposed to footage of the street disturbances and police backlashes during the riots that took place in the titular inner city suburb of Birmingham in 1985, and slide tape montages of the incendiary tabloid headlines written in response to the disturbances.  Other notable sources feature in The Stuart Hall Project include the late 1970s ambient music of British musician, artist and producer Brian Eno and, most noteworthy of all, the music of the late jazz musician and cultural icon Miles Davis, whose catalogue from the late 1940s to the 1970s is extensively used through the film.
Sound Matters 2: Miles Davis
The music of Miles Davis is undeniably the most signal feature of the soundtrack, for several reasons. Firstly, Miles Davis’s music comprises the majority of the musical fragments with which the film has been made. Secondly, Miles Davis was Stuart Hall’s favourite musician. Thirdly, Miles Davis’s career arc largely overlaps with Hall’s own — Davis coming to prominence as a significant figure in jazz in the late 1940s, honing his approach to this idiom through the 1950s and 1960s, becoming one of its foremost modern exponents in the process. It is Miles Davis’s singularly affecting sound that most resonates with Hall’s life story. As he is heard to say in the film’s opening sequence — once again photos of the young Hall in the frame — “the various moods of Miles Davis matched the evolution of my own feelings”. He also describes how the sound of early modern jazz was, during his youth, the sound of metropolitan futurity — the hope for which was cruelly stymied upon arrival in London — and that Miles Davis’s modern jazz sound would thus subsequently come to signify a melancholic sense of loss for Hall: “a nostalgia for what cannot be.”
Another major reason why Hall would have been so enamoured of the music of Miles Davis and why Mathison and Akomfrah sought to prioritise it as the main element of soundtrack is that it constitutes a kind of post-War archival historical record in its own right. In the 1940s, Miles Davis participated in the last years of Bebop’s heyday before developing his “cool” and “modal” styles in the 1950s, resulting in often aloof and intensely introspective music — all music made in the context of ongoing statutory and de facto segregation and disenfranchisement in the USA — before going on to participate in jazz’s second great avant-garde period in the tumultuous 1960s, ending the decade with the first of his infamous electroacoustic hybrids of jazz, funk and rock idioms, that wholly eschewed the established jazz conventions of adapting popular music standards. Without question the changes he made in the late 1960s were in part politically motivated and his decision to dispense with these standards was indicative of what the increasingly politicised jazz vanguard of the time came to think of in terms of what Dr Luther King called, “the fierce urgency of now.” 
The most powerful mobilisation of Miles Davis’s music in the film consists in the use made of the ostensibly quietist experiments that featured on the recording sessions he made with his long-time producer Teo Macero, in 1968-69, released on LPs including Filles de Kilimanjaro and In a Silent Way, alongside newsreel images from the Vietnam War. One particularly powerful example is the use of a profoundly unassuming rehearsal version of the track ‘In a Silent Way’ from The Complete In a Silent Way Sessions, not featured on the original album release, alongside footage of the assassinated Malcolm X and of the street protests that followed in the aftermath of his death. This affecting use of music is dramaturgically disorienting and makes powerful use of the tendency of Miles Davis’s music of this period to explore the sonic and affective grey zone between melancholy and mal-être — the French word for malaise, whose literal connotations of “ill-being” are largely lost from the English rendering of this word.
‘Alive to the Moment’
For Akomfrah, what Stuart Hall and Miles Davis shared most profoundly was a practical affinity for being “very alive to the moment, to what was going on at any given time, and responding.” If their lives and achievements so effectively parallel each other, it is doubtless at least partly due to this shared improvisatory ability. Miles Davis famously changed his approach to music no fewer than four times between the 1940s and the 1970s and was eventually dismissed — unfairly and inaccurately — as a credible force in jazz by many esteemed critics as a result of some of these changes. The offending records, among which are those 1960s and early 1970s releases used in the film, are now acclaimed by many as being among his finest works. In each instance that he changed his music, Davis was responding to the changing circumstances of the times — culturally, socially and politically. How Davis thought about music is very similar to how Hall thinks about culture, epitomized by a statement the musician made not long before he died in 1991: “Music changes you.”
For his own part, Hall also changed his approach to the critical exploration of culture as lived experience several times between the 1950s and 1970s, from his formative explorations of class politics and popular culture in the 1960s, through his extensive theorisations of the conjunctures of race and class in the contexts of neoconservatism and neoliberalism from the 1970s onwards. Like Miles Davis he has been criticised — for example his achievement has been questioned because he never produced a systematic theorisation of culture. As in the case of Davis, the criticism is unfounded.  While he might have borrowed many of his key concepts from Gramsci and others, he put them to work in wholly innovative and practical ways and was never afraid to change his modus operandi when the changing circumstances required. Hall thus epitomises the improvisational impetus of early cultural studies, to make creative use of constraints.
This affinity also extends to Akomfrah and Mathison. From their early, fiercely experimental films, in the 1980s — made against the backdrop of mass-scale socio-economic disenfranchisement, often along racist lines — the Black Audio Film Collective succeeded in developing a new vernacular avant-gardist aesthetic, despite the challenges they faced. Akomfrah is now an established cultural figure in Britain and an internationally renowned film director, yet along the way he too has had to face unwarranted criticism, notably when the novelist Salman Rushdie lambasted Handsworth Songs, claiming “the voices and stories of Handsworth’s black and Asian residents were silenced” by the Hall-inflected documentation of the crisis. Hall defended the film from Rushdie’s accusations, stating that Handsworth Songs was trying to “find a new language.” 
The desire to find a new language is something else that is shared between all these various figures, in their keen ability to mobilise their respective idioms in order to synthesise whatever materials are available to them at any given moment, to forge new critical cultural modes of expression. In restricting itself primarily to archival footage and sourced music, The Stuart Hall Project most certainly testifies to the ongoing aesthetic and critical potential to be levered though the creative mobilisation of constraint, and in so doing proves a wholly apt tribute to the late luminaries it takes as its focus and from which it draws its archival store.
Academic Books and Articles
Gramsci, Antonio. Prison Notebooks, Volume 3. Trans. Joseph A. Buttigieg. New York: Columbia UP, 2011. 696 pp.
Heble, Ajay, Daniel Fischlin and George Lipsitz. The Fierce Urgency of Now: Improvisation, Rights, And the Ethics of Cocreation. Durham: DukeUP, 2013. 328 pp.
Procter, James. Stuart Hall. New York and London: Routledge. 2004. 169 pp.
Robertson, Wojcik, Pamela and Arthur Knight. Eds. Soundtrack Available: Essays on Film and Popular Music. Durham and London: DukeUP, 2001. 491 pp.
Hall, Stuart. “Encoding and Decoding in the Television Discourse.” Birmingham: Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies, 1973.
Stiegler, Bernard. Technics and Time: Cinema and the Question of Malaise. Trans. Stephen Barker. Stanford: Stanford UP, 2011. 255 pp.
Weber, Betty Nance and Hubert Ieienen. Eds. Bertolt Brecht: Political Theory and Literary Practice. Athens GA: UGeorgiaP, 2010. 224 pp.
Zuberi, Nabeel. “Documented/Documentary Asians: Gurinda Chadha’s I’m British But… and the Musical Mediation of Sonic and Visual Identities,” in Robertson Wojcik, Pamela and Arthur Knight. Eds. Soundtrack Available: Essays on Film and Popular Music. Durham and London: DukeUP, 2001. pp. 244-66.
Handsworth Songs. Dir. John Akomfrah/Black Audio Film Collective. Birmingham Oral History Project. 24 Aug, 2014. Web. < http://www.bbohp.org.uk/node/20>.
Miles Electric: A Different Kind of Blue. Dir. John Akomfrah. Eagle Rock Entertainment, 2004. DVD.
The Stuart Hall Project: Revolution, Politics, Culture and the New Left Experience. Dir. John Akomfrah. Smoking Dogs Films, 2013. DVD.
Björnstad, Ketil. The River. ECM Records, 1987. CD.
Davis, Miles. Filles de Kilimanjaro. Columbia Records. CD.
— In a Silent Way. Columbia Records, 1969. CD.
— The Complete In a Silent Way Sessions. Columbia Records, 2001.
Micus, Stephan. The Ocean. ECM Records, 1988. CD.
Stewart, Mark and the Mafia. “Jerusalem EP”, On-U Sound, 1982. LP.
Adams, Tim. “Jazz Fan, Hipster and Left-Wing Hero; The Remarkable Journey of Stuart Hall.” The Guardian. Sun 18 Aug, 2013. Web. 25 Oct, 2014.
Bradshaw, Peter. “The Stuart Hall Project — Review.” The Guardian. 5 Sept, 2013. Web. 25 Oct, 2014. Web. <http://www.theguardian.com/film/2013/sep/05/the-stuart-hall-project-review>.
Elliott-Cooper, Adam. “The Stuart Hall Project — Review and Reflections.” City: Analysis of Urban Trends, Culture, Theory, Policy and Action, 17: 6 (2013): 827-34.
Clark, Ashley. “Film of the Week: The Stuart Hall Project,” Sight and Sound. Oct 2013. Web. 25 Oct, 2014. <http://www.bfi.org.uk/news-opinion/sight-sound-magazine/reviews-recommendations/film-week-stuart-hall-project
About the Author
Dr Marcel Swiboda is a lecturer in Cultural Studies in the School of Fine Art, History of Art and Cultural Studies, University of Leeds (UK). His research interests are focused in the areas of philosophy, music, technology and media, with the main emphasis on the ways in which improvisation-based musical practices and their associated idioms can serve as vehicles for rethinking the role that might be played by critical thought in contemporary culture and society.
 The Stuart Hall Project: Revolution, Politics, Culture and the New Left Experience. Dir. John Akomfrah. Smoking Dogs Films, 2013. DVD.
 Adams, Tim. “Jazz Fan, Hipster and Left-Wing Hero; The Remarkable Journey of Stuart Hall.” The Guardian, 18 Aug, 2013. Web. 25 Oct, 2014.
 Elliott-Cooper, Adam. “The Stuart Hall Project — Review and Reflections.” City: Analysis of Urban Trends, Culture, Theory, Policy and Action, 17: 6 (2013): 827-34.
 Clark, Ashley. “Film of the Week: The Stuart Hall Project,” Sight and Sound. Oct 2013. Web. 25 Oct, 2014. <http://www.bfi.org.uk/news-opinion/sight-sound-magazine/reviews-recommendations/film-week-stuart-hall-project>.
 Handsworth Songs. Dir. John Akomfrah/Black Audio Film Collective. Birmingham Oral History Project. 24 Aug, 2014. Web. < http://www.bbohp.org.uk/node/20>; Hall, Stuart. “Encoding and Decoding in the Television
Discourse.” Birmingham: Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies, 1973.
 The ship Empire Windrush brought the first group of 492 immigrants from Jamaica to London on 22 June 1948. British Caribbean people who came to the United Kingdom in the period after World War 2 are sometimes referred to as the Windrush generation. For more details and images see:http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/british/modern/windrush_01.shtml and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9F6lsLRdZ-o (Accessed 29 October 2014)
 Early on in the film the spectator encounters archive footage of a late 1980s television interview in which interviewer Michael Ignatieff asks Hall what his reactions were to Britain when he first arrived, to be met with a mute impassivity that belies the difficulty Hall clearly experiences in adequately accounting for his feelings on this subject.
 C.f. Gramsci, Antonio. Prison Notebooks, Volume 3. Trans. Joseph A. Buttigieg. New York: Columbia UP, 2011. 105.
 Micus, Stephan. The Ocean. ECM Records, 1988; Björnstad, Ketil. The River. ECM Records, 1987.
 This is one aspect of the film that is pertinently discussed by Adam Elliott-Cooper in his review, c.f. Elliott-Cooper. Op. cit.
 C.f. Weber, Betty Nance and Hubert Ieienen. Eds. Bertolt Brecht: Political Theory and Literary Practice. Athens GA: UGeorgiaP, 2010. 33.
 Stewart, Mark and the Mafia. “Jerusalem EP”, On-U Sound, 1982.
 On the political significance of the “now” in jazz and improvised music and the inspiration that jazz drew from the Civil Rights and Black Power movements, c.f. Heble, Ajay, Daniel Fischlin and George Lipsitz. The Fierce Urgency of Now: Improvisation, Rights, And the Ethics of Cocreation. Durham: DukeUP, 2013. Passim.
 Davis, Miles. Filles de Kilimanjaro. Columbia Records, 1968; In a Silent Way. Columbia Records, 1969.
 Davis, Miles. The Complete In a Silent Way Sessions. Columbia Records, 2001.
 The French philosopher Bernard Stiegler has written extensively regarding the multiple connotations of malaise, in relation to film. C.f. Stiegler, Bernard. Technics and Time: Cinema and the Question of Malaise. Trans. Stephen Barker. Stanford: Stanford UP, 2011.
 C.f. Adams, Tim. Op cit.
 C.f. Miles Electric: A Different Kind of Blue (dir. Murray Lerner, 2004). Eagle Rock Entertainment. DVD.
 C.f. Procter, James. Stuart Hall. New York and London: Routledge. 2004. 55.
 C.f. Zuberi, Nabeel. “Documented/Documentary Asians: Gurinda Chadha’s I’m British But… and the Musical Mediation of Sonic and Visual Identities,” in Robertson Wojcik, Pamela and Arthur Knight. Eds. Soundtrack Available: Essays on Film and Popular Music. Durham and London: DukeUP, 2001. 257.