This chapter examines Puccini’s relationship with early film. The composer’s career coincided with nearly the first thirty years of the cinematic art form, and it was a form of technology with which Puccini had an ambivalent relationship. The chapter begins with an account of Puccini’s known thoughts about film and cinema going. There follows an extensive discussion of Puccini’s and Ricordi’s legal efforts to prevent the use of his music as film accompaniment, and of the difficulty in recouping royalties. By the 1920s, however, Ricordi was including a clause about film usage in opera contracts, including that for Turandot. From the 1930s, with the arrival of the ‘talkies’, commercial opportunities became apparent and the company pursued a more liberal course. The chapter also considers how Puccini’s operas were brought to the screen during his lifetime and shortly after – there was a particular vogue for Tosca films – and discusses the ways in which the composer’s works might be considered ‘cinematic’.

As stated earlier in this Part of the guide, it can be helpful to determine the defined standard, or benchmark, for the author’s perspective, action or statement, whether that is for a fictional character or plot, or in a non-fiction work (see Identifying the explanatory framework within a text). Once you have clarified that and the author’s intention, the next step is to consider whether there are any potential legal consequences.

As an editor, you should have a basic understanding of copyright, libel, defamation and related legislation, sufficient to be able to identify when a legal reading is needed. However, you should not be expected to provide that legal reading, regardless of how familiar you are with the legislation.

This chapter describes the dynamics of publishing novels in twentieth-century Australia through selected case studies and an analysis of changing industry, legal and cultural contexts. Publication in book form was more challenging for authors located in Australia due to the dominance of the British publishing industry and its control of territorial copyright for the Australasian market. Australian authors had few options but to seek the interest of overseas publishers, despite the local activity of Angus & Robertson, the NSW Bookstall Co. and other short-lived enterprises. In the early twentieth century, Joseph Furphy declared ‘Aut Australia aut nihil’ and published Such is Life (1903) with the Bulletin Newspaper Company. Miles Franklin’s My Brilliant Career (1901) took another route and was published by Blackwood in Edinburgh. Throughout the first half of the twentieth century, the publishing history of Australian novels was often seen as a tale of three cities: London, Melbourne and Sydney. But New York, Philadelphia and Boston also beckoned, creating a broader and much more complex literary marketplace. Changes in the international rights market and local publishing significantly increased the possibilities of publishing in multiple markets by the end of the twentieth century.

This chapter considers “uncreative” appropriations of comics archives. Uncreative comics go a step further in presenting the result of collecting as the product itself, further unsettling the lines between archiving, curating, and drawing. In fact, these comics tend to shift toward undrawing and the “uncreative” cartoonist often avoids making their own mark visible. Instead, the tactics that come to define these avant-garde works are détournement, erasure, collage, digital editing, reprinting, cutting-up, and crowdsourcing. This chapter looks at proto-experiments with uncreative practices and considers their expanded continuities in the era of digital remixing, particularly as they are facilitated by the online archives of comic books. It considers more particularly the multifaceted works of Ilan Manouach, who has adopted radical approaches to appropriation by privileging mechanical, automatized, or distributed forms of comics production.

The book looks at how copyright laws are perceived within the graffiti and street art subcultures, and how artists and writers view certain creative aspects of their own practice. By drawing on the author’s ethnographic research and fieldwork, the book gives voice to the main actors of these communities and highlights their feelings and opinions towards issues which until recently they have often felt far from their everyday life and practice. This book, in other words, brings the ‘voice from the street’ into the debate over the legal (and non-legal) protection of street art and graffiti. The monograph also touches on related and complementary issues, such as the ‘gallerisation’ and economic exploitation of these forms of art (e.g. via merchandising) and the curious similarities between the graffiti and advertising worlds. The book includes inter-disciplinary and multi-disciplinary perspectives, showing how different disciplines can interact. The ethnographic research carried out by the author gives the monograph a strong empirical touch, thus providing insight and perspectives from the street art and graffiti subcultures.

This chapter considers how intangible assets that businesses develop, such as inventions, designs and brands, as well as business ideas and information, can be protected pursuant to Australian intellectual property (IP) laws. It identifies that various IP rights are protected by statute, while others are protected pursuant to common law. It explains that some forms of intellectual property require businesses to apply and register for protection before an IP right can be claimed, such as designs, patents and trade marks, while others, such as copyright, dont require any application or registration. The chapter highlights that an array of IP rights can be used to protect different aspects of a business’s goods and/or services. For example, a business’s product might have a patent that attaches to it regarding how it works, a registered trade mark protecting its brand name, and a design for its appearance. The more IP rights that can be used to protect a particular good or service, the more defiant the good or service will be to imitation and competition.

This chapter looks at the period 1700 to 1820, one of profound change in Ireland as technological advances coupled with social and educational developments deeply influenced the intellectual and literary landscape. In the six and a half centuries since the invention of printing many new technologies affected the creation, distribution, consumption, and enjoyment of printed texts. Innovations and developments in printing, typefounding, papermaking, and marketing contributed to the advance of literary culture. The rise in education from the eighteenth century created an audience for literature in its many forms. Imaginative writing developed and attracted new audiences as literacy expanded among different cohorts. The newspaper provided the most comprehensive medium for the dissemination of information. Literacy was not necessarily a requirement as evidence shows that one newspaper could be shared among readers and read aloud to groups of listeners. Print advertising, an eighteenth-century innovation, increased the market for literary works.

A dozen editions of Tolstoy’s collected works were published while he was alive (the twelfth was being prepared when he died). His wife, Sophia Andreevna, prepared seven of these; his disciples – most notably, V.G. Chertkov – arranged for the publication of his banned writings abroad. In 1918, Chertkov secured Lenin’s affidavit for the publication of “everything that Tolstoy ever wrote.” After Lenin’s death, and especially after the 1928 centennial of Tolstoy’s birth, the corpus of the Jubilee Edition was shaped by Stalin’s state decree. First projected to exceed 100 volumes, the Jubilee Edition funneled down to 90 volumes. This chapter signposts the difficult history of the distinguished edition during the three decades of Stalinism (1928–58) that it took to publish it, while explaining its structure and key principles. Despite its ideologically marred editorial format, the Jubilee Edition – which remains the most complete and professionally executed extant edition of Tolstoy – is an extraordinary achievement. The chapter concludes by discussing the tasks of the newest 100-volume edition, started in 2000 under the auspices of the Gorky Institute of World Literature in Moscow, its ultimate purpose being to restore and expertly annotate all of the texts from Tolstoy’s pen.

How do you read a patent and what subject matter is patentable? What is the purpose of a patent? Who is an inventor on the patent if work is done by many people on the project? What is the process of obtaining a patent in my country and globally? Read this chapter to see how you could lose commercialization rights to your own invention. When exactly does an invention or idea become patentable? Once you own a patent, how can you make money from it? What is the process of licensing and the key terms that should be negotiated in such a license agreement? What is the use of a copyright or a trade secret in biotech? What exactly constitutes patent infringement ? These questions and many others are addressed in this chapter on intellectual property.

Using Joyce’s oeuvre as a sample case, Robert Spoo’s chapterenvisions a new global commons.From James Joyce’s lawsuit against Samuel Roth in 1927 to the decisions in the case between Carol Schloss and the Joyce Estate in 2000s, Joyce has served as the exemplar of issues around copyright in modernist literature. Following his recent history of American protectionist copyright law and public domain, Spoo first maps out the new possibilities for critical readings and publication following the passage of Joyce’s works into the public domain, following the expiration of copyright in most European Union countries on January 1, 2012. He will then sketch the recently emerged contradictions of international public domain. In response to this situation, which he calls “tragedy of the uncoordinated global commons,” Spoo will follow the precedent of Ezra Pound’s 1918 proposed statute to reform US copyright law, which combined perpetual, exclusive copyright with expansive compulsory licenses that required fixed royalties on sales, and offer a proposal for the global circulation of literature based on a reworked notion of the earlier US practice of “trade courtesy.” The chapter closes by arguing that a fertile public domain, in which creative resources are made accessible through cooperation and sharing, is essential to the future of modernism and of modernism scholarship.

Copyright is a body of law that impacts upon the production and circulation of commodities that helped define Australian culture. The chapter provides an overview of Imperial copyright laws that conferred rights on British subjects living in British dominions. Australian colonial copyright laws and the first Federal law are then discussed in light of the Berne Convention for the Protection of Literary and Artistic Works (1886). Both before and after Federation, Australian copyright laws remained nested within the framework of Empire, until the passing of the Copyright Act 1968 (Cth). How the placement of Australian law within Empire impacted upon Australian creators is explored in relation to the artist and illustrator, May Gibbs (1877-1965). Race is more difficult to account for in Australian copyright history. How Protection and Assimilation areas laws restricted artistic expression and the enjoyment of copyright is explored with reference to Aboriginal artist Albert Namatjira (1901-1959).

Copyright perspective: Topics like protection under the Software Directive as well as the Database Directive are dealt with in particular. Moreover, aspects of the trade secrecy directive are also touched upon. Centered around the existing human-focused approach, the chapter also seeks to develop new ways to strike the balance between information society needs on the one hand (free access to works) and copyright protection and incentives for AI-created works on the other hand.