Smiths analysis of the relationship between division of labour and the wealth of nations interpreted as per capita income is illustrated, through their connection with productivity. The division of labour also explains the existence and characteristics of social stratification and alienation. The classical tripartition in social classes – capitalists, landlords and workers – is discussed, considering both its explanatory value and its limits. Division of labour evolves through time: Babbages laws, Taylorism, the production chain, mechanization. The international division of labour and international value chains are considered. Marxs communist utopia with the disappearance of compulsory labour is recalled and confronted with less unrealistic utopias concerning the command structure within the firm or Ernesto Rossis labour army.

This chapter grows out of the strain of queer theory that revolves around questions of time. Many thinkers make sense of queer subjects by exploring their complex relationships to the past, present, and future as well as what time signifies in this context. Taking seriously the critical linkage between queerness and temporality, I consider how queer bodies make us aware of time – whether through temporal refusal, embrace, or displacement. I argue that contemporary novelists Mia McKenzie and Robert Jones, Jr., use queer characters to reorient narrative understandings of time and present new possible relationships to time. McKenzie’s The Summer We Got Free (2013) and Jones’s The Prophets (2021) both attend to the past to write Black queer life, and, in doing so, these authors provide meditations on time and the writing of history. Beginning with a consideration of the larger historical context of Black queer writing from the end of the twentieth century, the chapter highlights the narrative questioning of the temporal placement and meaning of the Black queer body and draws a connection between the narrative construction and conceptions of temporality that disrupt prevalent ways of thinking about time. In these texts, time emerges as a queer formation.

This final chapter concludes the book with a discussion of the theory’s significance for broader scholarly and policy implications that result from the central argument. Uneven access to public goods throughout a state’s territory can be reflective of historical exposure to institutions that alienated people from central state authority. Importantly, the argument and evidence presented in this book suggest that extractive institutions can affect modern access to public goods through both institutions and attitudes that get transmitted over generations. It also raises the point that while military colonialism is yet another example of the deleterious consequences of extractive institutions for development, it shows that what matters are the specific instruments of colonial extraction, including violence, the removal of private property, as well as underinvestment in public infrastructure and underprovision of public goods.

This chapter explores the development of a distinctive Faulknerian ontology in relation to the mimetic information paradigm we have explored. I begin by exploring two characters – Dilsey and Miss Quentin – from The Sound and the Fury who provide a paradigm of autonomous personhood that is able to survive within a coercive plantation network. I extend this analysis to Darl Bundren in As I Lay Dying whose narrative arc vividly evokes both the development and dissolution of the mimetic self. Here, Faulkner anticipates a major theme in a number of his later novels, namely, alienation as a facet of modernity, one that compromises the possibility of sensuous or emotional access to others. Finally, I demonstrate how Sanctuary articulates this mimetic dilemma both in the rape of Temple Drake and on a larger social scale, in the hyper-mimetic quality of information flow through complex social systems that rely more on abstraction than on sensuous interpersonal bonds.

The thought of the meaning of work in the capitalist labour process has been a central pillar in many discussions of work, employment and organisational life in the social sciences. Meaningful work, however, is, if anything, an undercurrent in the modern classics of working life research, where the spotlight is on the struggle that is at the heart of workers’ attempts to derive meaning from paid work. In this chapter we discuss understandings of meaningful work that emerge between the nexus of the meaningfulness and the meaninglessness of wage labour in some of the most noted of this literature in the post–World War II period. From this discourse we crystallise six tendencies in discussions of the possibility to solve the problem of the lack of meaning of waged work. We derive from this discussion implications for approaching an understanding of the politics of meaningful and meaningless waged work.

While there are a few older examples of fantasies that create secondary worlds imaginatively separate from the Earth we know, such building projects became increasingly prevalent during the twentieth century. World-building is seen as one of the quintessential activities of contemporary Fantasy. Consequently, this chapter considers what fantasies, their creators and their audiences gain from imagining new worlds. It begins by examining J. R. R. Tolkien’s arguments about the importance of consistency and immersion in sub-creation, while also considering alternative views articulated by writers including Michael Saler, André Breton and H. P. Lovecraft. After drawing out the wide applicability of the world-building metaphor in conversation with work by Farah Mendlesohn, the chapter explores the metaphor’s limitations by looking at examples drawn from Michael Moorcock and Fredric Jameson. The second part of the chapter explores a wide range of world-building techniques using case studies that include Margaret Cavendish’s The Blazing World, E. R. Eddison’s The Worm Ouroboros, Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast series, Nghi Vo’s The Empress of Salt and Fortune, Fantasy television, Planescape: Torment and Elden Ring.

This chapter expands on the material underpinning of popular sovereignty and self-and-other-determination by theorizing racialized alienation from nature and manual labor as allowing for environmental destruction, a process mediated by technology. Diagnostically, Du Bois’s essays on development and economic value first connect the intensification of racism to western technological needs, turning upside down techno-racist claims that equated whiteness and technological superiority. Instead, he argues that racism and colonialism are necessary to procure raw materials on the cheap to secure industrial profits. Racist ideologies operate within this context to confine nonwhite bodies to strenuous manual labor close to nature. Relatedly, Du Bois contests the inferior value assigned to manual labor that follows, showing both the centrality of raw materials and manual labor to high-tech societies and clarifying its political origins. On the critical side, Du Bois first contests the desirability of speedy “development” and forced integration into the global economy, which curtails racialized peoples’ orientation toward their wellbeing. Second, Du Bois claims the technological mindset and orientation toward profit are poor standards of progress because they obscure the cooperative character of production and prevent the political imagination from envisioning new worlds.

This chapter argues that it is difficult to think about Afrofuturism without considering diaspora. At the same time, it shows how speculative writing reimagines diasporic paradigms derived from historical trauma. It begins with the search for an alternative epistemology in early twentieth-century African American speculative writing, where a turn to an African utopia promises relief from anti-Black historical violence, figured as the healing of a scattered Black family reunited after a long estrangement. Such diasporic fantasies are frequently challenged by African thinkers, who refuse to let their homelands become fodder for imaginative projection alone and underscore fractures in transnational encounters. Tracing the flourishing of Afrofuturist paradigms since the 1990s, devoted to visions of a future where race neither magically disappears nor becomes all-encompassing, this chapter identifies currents of alienation and prophecy, dismemberment and remixing in a range of Afrofuturist projects, ending with the recent boom in African-centered perspectives.

This chapter opens by considering the vexed relationship between Romantic poetic practices that were increasingly interested in the powers and perceptions of individuals and the Romantic period’s burgeoning metropolitan profusion. The first sections explore the ambivalent or outright negative attitudes towards cities and their populations expressed by poets such as William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Robert Southey and considers how distancing perspectives are employed in writings by Walter Scott and Letitia Landon. The later parts of the essay consider alternative versions of the urban sublime, touching on topographical and statistical representations by Thomas Malton and Patrick Colquhoun; celebrations of multiplicity by Pierce Egan and William Hazlitt; readings against the grain by Charles Baudelaire, Thomas De Quincey and Charles Lamb; and considerations of ruination by John Martin, Anna Laetitia Barbauld and Mary Shelley.

The short story became a popular form among twentieth-century working-class writers, who faced challenges in maintaining a literary career while short on time and energy. Meridel Le Sueur, Tillie Olsen, Raymond Carver, and Bobby Ann Mason also found the short story to be an effective form for representing the experiences of those who were alienated within US society. This chapter argues that the comparably abrupt and disconnected nature of the short story parallels an aesthetic of disconnectedness that is prevalent in the work of these four writers, each of whom portrays working-class life as alienated from the mainstream culture, and whose characters are often emotionally stunted as a result. While the later writings of Carver and Mason reduce the earlier emphasis on economics and class struggle found in Olsen and, especially, Le Sueur, they all share a sense of the emotional damage caused by being working class in the United States.

William Hallam grew up in the little village of Lockinge (Berkshire) but lived for the rest of his life in Swindon, where he was employed at the Great Western Railway Works. His remarkable diaries (eighty-two volumes: 1886–1952) provide an exceptional opportunity to assess the effects of moving from a rural, agricultural background to an urban, industrial one. Hallam was in many respects a classic example of the alienated industrial worker. This certainly intensified his passionate ruralism, yet its roots lay much further back, in the deep-seated loyalties formed by his early experiences in Lockinge. Indeed, although he was a working-class man rather than a genteel middle-class woman, the parallels between the role landscape played in Hallam’s life and in Beatrix Cresswell’s are remarkably close.

Abstract: As a product of constructed imaginations, national identity is fragile, especially in pluralistic democracies where cohesion depends on the faithful execution of an aspirational ideal, such as “the American Creed,” a statement about fairness and merit. Cohesion is difficult to build and easily fractured. When fractured, the humanities may provide the material needed to stitch together a new identity, one that emerges out of the old. Repairing fractures and maintaining a cohesive democratic identity is the work of citizens serving as custodians of democracy. But failure is always a possibility.

Abstract: The material for this chapter is drawn in part from a class I taught on American pragmatism at a local correctional institution. It raises the question: Since a habit is something we take for granted, how could we even begin to recognize our own habits as supporting tyrannical relationships? A response to this question and to the role that formal education could play in promoting this recognition is the topic for the remaining chapters in the book.

Chapter 3 represents a brief foray into the broad topic of nihilism in English Romanticism. It begins with a close reading of Lord Byron’s poem Manfred, which tells the story of a man who is tormented by knowledge and in a sense dies as a result of it. Manfred is a kind of Faustian figure zealous for learning. He pursues his occult studies alone in a tower in the Alps. Over time he attains powers of magic that allow him to evoke supernatural spirits. Manfred is haunted by a memory in the past that leaves him no rest. This is read as an autobiographical reference to Byron’s incestuous relations with his half-sister, Augusta Leigh, which resulted in such a scandal that he felt obliged to leave England forever. Manfred seeks in vain for help from the different spirits of nature, who are unable to oblige him in his request to make him forget his past completely. Manfred heroically rejects that even the most powerful spirit can stand in the way of his freedom, and he insists on dying on his own terms. The chapter concludes with a brief analysis of Shelley’s famous poem “Ozymandias,” which is read as a call for self-reflection on the fleetingness of our existence and all human accomplishment.

This chapter critically engages with relevant legal consciousness literature and develops the conceptual framework of the book. It examines three accounts of law in everyday life – hegemony, alienation, and empowerment – and demonstrates their limitations in explaining the mixed, paradoxical effects of law observed through the experiences of interviewed workers and residents in Vietnam. The ethnographic approach adopted in this research foregrounds the complex nature of individuals’ life circumstances and their decision-making. The concept of precarity as applied in this book consists of three main components: Precarity as a phenomenon and result of the broader neoliberal economic structure, precarity as multifaceted and variegated individual experiences, and precarity as a ground of resistance. This chapter develops a three-pronged process that underpins the mutually reinforcing relationship between precarity and law, and identifies some of the factors that make a socialist country like Vietnam a suitable setting to explore such a relationship.