This essay examines the link between eros and metaphysics in “The Seducer’s Diary.” It argues that Johannes approaches seduction as a performative rather than strategic medium, in which the goal is not conquest but a way of playing with reality. The diary, on this reading, allows us to explore the erotic structure of our most fundamental experiences of mediation and serves as a key to understanding the spiritual dimensions of aesthetic existence.

This Introduction configures Messiaen’s life and works, and the culture, aesthetics, and legacy of his art in terms of various kinds of images. In particular, this chapter focuses on the complexity and construction of these images, which are sometimes surprising and contradictory, to reveal the ‘contexts’ that inform this book.

The significance of Heidegger’s engagement with poetry reaches beyond his remarks on poetic texts and the role of poetic composition, whether we consider his lecture courses on Hölderlin, his reflections on Greek tragedy, or his later essays on language and poetry. His view of Dichtung cannot be categorized under the rubrics of philosophical aesthetics, hermeneutics, phenomenological theory of art, or literary interpretation, as his unique investment in poetry and his idiomatic approach to Dichtung have in view a transformation of thought: a preparation of a non-metaphysical style of thinking, characterized by a new, non-conceptual rigor, which can be called “poietic.” Sketching this “other” thinking against the backdrop of the then most current techno-scientific developments, whether in cybernetics, physics or genetics, Heidegger insists on its preliminary scope and preparatory character. That is why the importance of Dichten in Heidegger’s work, especially its role in taking philosophy toward an otherwise to thinking can only be properly appreciated when we give its due to the “poetic” valence of his texts, which includes innovative textual composition, the syntactical and lexical texture of writing, its typographical experiments and verbal inventions, etymological explorations, and the inventive use of hyphens or quasi-tautological syntactic phrasing.

After a general survey attention is first paid to the transformations Shintoism has undergone over the centuries, with its present stress on the environment used to illumine tensions in Christianity between the transcendent and the immanent. With Buddhism two very different forms are contrasted, Zen and Pure Land. With the former modern American, English and European appropriations are first analysed, including the work of Jack Kerouac, Charles Johnson, D. T. Suzuki and Alan Watts. Thereafter, a positive value is assigned to Zen aesthetics (especially in its positive evaluation of impermanence), while a more critical assessment is offered of its ’emptiness’ doctrine. Various versions of Pure Land are then discussed. Not only is Karl Barth’s negative judgement firmly rejected but also its notions of grace treated as illuminating for Christianity’s own approach to the subject.

Postcolonial poetry, as both a body of poems and a field of critical discourse, furnishes opportunities to foreground anticolonial and antiracist work while attending to its aesthetic dimensions. Taking a cue from Vahni Capildeo’s “In 2190, Albion’s Civil Conflicts Finally Divided Along Norman-Saxon Lines,” this chapter suggests that their speculative poem enacts a decolonizing practice in at least three ways that ramify throughout postcolonial poetry more broadly: (i) it questions the politicized distinctions between outsiders and insiders, (ii) it makes available for poetry undervalued forms of language and definitions of home, and (iii) it embarks on a project of world-unmaking and world-remaking. Organized according to these three modes of practice, this chapter reflects on how university-level aesthetic education and pedagogy might elucidate the decolonizing work of poets and poems. At the same time, it tests the limits of the term “postcolonial poetry” for such decolonizing work. With a focus on Jamaican poets Louise Bennett, Lorna Goodison, and Kei Miller, the chapter also looks to Natalie Diaz, Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill, Safia Elhillo, and Tjawangwa Dema.

The catechumenate emerged in the late second century during the period when Christianity was transitioning from a loose collection of school churches to a more unified monepiscopate. Irenaeus’s writings bear witness to the aesthetic character of knowledge in early Christian catechetical teaching during this time. For Irenaeus, the rule of truth serves as a pedagogical tool enabling new Christians to perceive the unity of creation and Scripture. This chapter looks at catechetical terminology and appeals to the Rule of Truth in Aduersus haereses and the Demonstratio.

This essay takes up David Tracy’s adjective ‘mystical-prophetic’ amid racialised North America. Since 1990 Tracy has employed the category to indicate the way concrete theological expression brings together the mystical-aesthetic-contemplative (and apophatic) and the prophetic-ethical-political (and apocalyptic) in tensive conjunction. Emphasising the hyphen, this essay applies Tracy’s term to hip-hop, elucidating the tension between hip-hop’s early overtly political character– ‘the sudden eruption of black and brown voices on to the stage of American life, a rumbling and riotous explosion of sound and self-expression’– and its later characteristically aestheticised (and commercialised) pleasures as primarily ‘renegade music, dance and art’. Those drawn to the politics may not rush past hip-hop’s multilayered artistic and participative exhilarations. Examining Childish Gambino’s powerful 2018 song and music video ‘This is America’, the author finds Tracy’s category relevant and applicable beyond religion narrowly defined, proposing ‘street theology’ as a form of public theology that emerges here as the genius of hip-hop is interpreted sympathetically as mystical-prophetic.

The Introduction opens with a close reading of information proliferation and human–machine interfaces in James Joyce’s Ulysses to establish these themes as central to the book’s exploration of the emergent early-twentieth-century phenomenon Love labels “cybernetic thinking.” She traces biographical and intellectual connections between T. S. Eliot and Norbert Wiener (the “father of cybernetics”), provides an overview of the field of cybernetics and its definitional challenges, and proposes that a reconsideration of cybernetics’s cultural lineage – as evident in experimental modernist texts – will contribute a valuable new dimension to our understanding of both modernism and cybernetics. Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick and Adam Frank’s notion of the “cybernetic fold” is redeployed to describe the rich openness to data-processing-possibility that emerges during these decades, when high-speed computing is imaginable but not yet technologically realized. After contextualizing the project within existing media- and modernist-studies conversations, the Introduction culminates with a close reading of Wiener’s cybernetic approach to information that links his perspective on technical innovation to modernist aesthetics.

Sebald was an author deeply devoted to the ethical responsibilities and aesthetic possibilities of literary discourse, and this essay explores the importance of history within his constellation of ethical and aesthetic concerns. Special attention is paid to analysing Sebald’s unique fictional prose form that blurs the boundary between literature and historiography. Distinct from historical novels and documentary fiction, Sebald’s works rely on facts and artefacts as much as they need both memory and imagination. While the traces, repression, and erasure of National Socialist crimes are prominent in his works, the German past is not his only concern. Sebald writes on the Belgian colonial oppression in the Congo, the capitalist exploitation of the Amazon forests, and the massacres caused by Napoleon’s military campaigns. Furthermore, trauma is not limited to human experience in Sebald’s works; he devotes attention to the destruction of nature and animals as well. Focusing on Sebald’s attempts to find appropriate ways to approach the past and individual experience, this essay shows how he creates a literary form that both encourages reader engagement and provides empathetic access to the past.

How might attention to the mechanisms of stage licensing help us to think specifically about the politics and aesthetics of on- and off-stage space in eighteenth-century drama? This essay addresses this question by looking at John St. John’s The Island of St. Marguerite, a musical afterpiece first staged at Drury Lane in November 1789. Using a spectacular retelling of the ‘Man in the Iron Mask’ story to mount a barely coded staging of the storming of the Bastille, this play was the first attempt by one of London’s royal playhouses to respond directly to the early events of the French Revolution. But the two Larpent manuscripts for Island show just how much had to be expunged and changed before the examiner of plays would license it. In particular, this essay argues, the cuts and annotations of the examiner (and possibly also John Philip Kemble, Drury Lane’s acting managing) disclose an institutional discomfort with the off-stage spaces – besieged walls, subterranean prison cells, sites of execution – that the audience are never taken to and yet must picture for themselves if what is actually unfolding before them is to make sense. Attention to these manuscripts thus takes us towards a deeper understanding of the play of visibility, of the texture of sensory and extra-sensory experience, in the Georgian theatre.

This chapter considers how strategies for representing the skyscraper indexed competing understandings of the nature of organization, a term with multiple valences in the early twentieth century. Whether one judged skyscrapers to be hideous blights or rapturous delights, few in the period failed to marvel at the powerful technic of organization marshaled by and for its mass. But to whom should its beholders credit that technic proved a harder matter to resolve. Descriptions of skyscraper construction by builder William Starrett and writers John Dos Passos and Willa Cather mark an oscillation between viewing this structure’s organization as an art, showcasing not just the skill but also the beauty of capital’s captivating choreography of bodies and materials used to materialize these structures, and organization as a politics, the active mobilization of laborers to resist modes of capitalistic organization by revealing the invisible and unaesthetic exploitation disguised by capitalism’s breathtaking arrangements.

This chapter introduces the wide range of music bound up with the sublime in the Romantic period. This is a time often associated with the triumph of music – and especially ‘autonomous’ instrumental music – as the most sublime of the arts, and with a canon of overwhelming, ground-breaking, transgressive works by great (mostly German) composers. These associations are important, not least as a way of understanding the unease and sometimes controversy that has surrounded the musical sublime since the later twentieth century. Yet equally important to understanding the sublime in the Romantic period is to look beyond monumental instrumental compositions to see how smaller-scale genres and vocal music, alongside performers, listeners and other agents, shaped and contested the sublimity of music, sound and hearing, and left an indelible mark on the broader aesthetic category of the sublime itself.

The Alpine sublime contributed to the Romantic vogue for mountains, but also to the development of Romantic aesthetics and modern subjectivity. This chapter examines a variety of representations of the Alps, including scientific and aesthetic treatises, poems, prose fiction, and painting, as well as more ephemeral documents such as travel journals and visitors’ books. Authors addressed include Rousseau, Ramond, the Duchess of Devonshire, Wordsworth, the Shelleys, Byron, and Ruskin. It argues that the Alpine sublime served as an expression of divine power, human autonomy, and social distinction. Proceeding chronologically, the chapter begins with the Grand Tour, with its scientific, aesthetic, and mythical representations of the Alps, then looks at how the French Revolution appropriated the Alpine sublime, at ways in which Romantic writers responded by making it a private experience, and finally at how tourism helped generalize this modern attitude to mountains.

The Introduction surveys the range and diversity of engagements with the sublime across different areas of enquiry, genres of cultural productivity, and national traditions in late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century Europe. It explores the close links between ‘the sublime’ and ‘the Romantic’ in academic discourse before outlining the history of ‘the Romantic Sublime’ as a critical construct. It argues for a potential disconnect between what scholars have called ‘the Romantic Sublime’ and how the sublime might actually have been produced, encountered, experienced, and understood during the Romantic period. A selection of key Romantic-period engagements with the sublime are discussed, as are the major scholarly histories of the topic, from the early twentieth century to the present day.

This chapter explores the extensive discussion of the sublime in eighteenth-century English, Irish and Scottish philosophy, often considered as laying the groundwork for the Romantic sublime. The chapter also examines academic histories of these eighteenth-century discussions of the sublime, showing how such histories have at times over-simplified the relationship between competing philosophical approaches and national traditions. The chapter pays particular attention to the increasing centrality of the association of ideas to descriptions of the sublime in Anglophone philosophy, identifying it as a key marker of difference from the German idealist tradition that has been the focus of so many scholarly accounts of the Romantic sublime.

9. Although Moscovici insisted that the triadic Ego–Alter–Object model forms the core of the theory of social representations and communication, bringing out its potentialities still awaits further research. Most importantly, Moscovici argued that the model involves not only intellectual qualities but relationships and interaction of participants in their mutual construction of social representations and of processes of influence. However, despite its theoretical and practical potentials, Moscovici did not develop the triadic model in any detail, leaving it as an abstract schema.

In this chapter, I have drawn attention to the rich potentialities of the triadic model in relation to dialogical intellectual interactions, ethics, aesthetics, responsibility, and engagement on the one hand and to populism and distortion of the model on the other. In their multifaceted interdependencies, individuals and groups create their social reality, impose control on each other, and create their bonds of solidarity, difference, and indifference. The Selves and Others are social agents with their histories, identities, aims, intentions, and desires. It is this perspective of the interdependence between intellectual, interactional, and relational qualities within the Ego–Alter–Object that affords for the dialogical interpretation of the triadic model. The phenomena to which the model refers are heterogeneous and multidimensional.

The epilogue considers the afterlives of “matter” and “making” in the Elizabethan period. Through brief readings of Sidney’s Astrophil and Stella and Puttenham’s Art of English Poesy, the epilogue demonstrates that both ideas continue to guide literary practice during this period. At the same time, however, the economic and political position of the Elizabethan poet differs markedly from the place that earlier court writers had occupied in the sphere of cultural production, and this shift in position motivates a gradual turn, in Elizabethan literary theory, away from notions of “making,” which draw attention to the material process by which literature is constructed, and towards notions of “authorship,” which hold instead that literature is produced by an autonomous figure whose type of work is categorically distinct from other kinds of labor. “Authorship” thus emerges from an ideological shift predicated, not upon a fundamental difference in literary technique, but upon a change in the conditions under which early modern poets worked.