In the history of Hebrew letters, few dates have so cavalierly been invested with literary and linguistic significance as 1886/7, the publication date of Mendele's short story BeSeter Ra'am.

Such scholars of literature as Ravnitzki, Klausner and Werses have hailed its style as the pointer or veritable trigger to a redeployment of the traditional ‘synthetic’ (composite Biblical/post-Biblical) Hebrew style—instead of being confined to the registers of non-fiction, it now rose to supplant Biblical Hebrew as the standard for narrative prose. Some historians of language have gone so far as to present it as a total innovation (for its time) in that the aforegoing Haskalah writers had adhered almost exclusively to a Biblical manner.

Use of the term ‘exegesis’ is now so general that scholars in the field of scriptural studies must have sensed an impingement upon their conventional prerogative. If, perhaps, they are justified in so doing, they might none the less be prepared to acknowledge the value of ancillary functions accumulated in its extension into areas beyond its standard application to literature. While it may be that these can be encompassed in the general shift from self-consciously ‘interpretative’ to epistemologically ‘hermeneutic’, it would seem more practical to identify as ‘exegesis’ any and every act of perception. That, of course, is facilitated by the now conventional notion of ‘text’ espoused by most practitioners of structuralism. Whether one equates every datum of perception as somehow ‘textual’ or, conversely, the perception of every text as dependent upon the totality of experience, does not really matter. ‘Exegesis’ is conveniently inclusive and may be thought of general utility in the service of every taste and all analytical techniques. As such, it is ineluctably present in every transaction of the intellect: one observes, hears, reads, and makes the necessary adjustments in aid of understanding. In the very interests of survival, one seldom elects not to understand. It is the ‘necessary adjustments’ that require description, abundantly documented in the textbooks of literary criticism: from the rhetorical ‘naming of parts’ to contemporary discourse analysis. If it seems difficult to add to that vast corpus of technical terms, it is certainly possible to take a stand in respect of their presumptive efficiency.

In John Wansbrough's work, Quranic studies: sources and methods of scriptural interpretation, several theses are put forth regarding the material known as asbāb al-nuzūl, occasions of revelation; the overall view of Wansbrough is one which is derived (critically) from al-Suyūṭī, which is that the asbāb material has its primary reference point in works devoted to deriving law from the text of the Qur'ān, that is, halakhic works. He suggests that the presence of asbāb material as found in a haggadic or narrative tafsīr such as that of Muqātil is ‘accidental’ because, while the narrative asbāb reports serve as anecdotes, they do not fulfil what Wansbrough sees as the ‘essential function’, that of establishing ‘a chronology of revelation

Khul’, according to its shar ī definition, is a wife's ‘redemption of herself’ from the marriage tie, with the husband's consent, by the use of the word khul’, or a verb derived from it, in return for consideration. The husband, not the wife, dissolves the marriage tie; he must be legally competent to divorce the wife, and the wife must be legally competent to enter into a contractual divorce agreement for consideration (Anderson, 1970: 367). She is a party to the proceedings for divorce by shar’ī khul’, just as she is a party to the marriage contract. She generally compensates the husband by returning the dower (which is her property under the sharī'a), wholly or in part, in exchange for her freedom. This is the picture emerging from the sijill and confirmed by research elsewhere.

It might appear that the Qur'ān does not establish the wuḍū', or ‘lesser ablution’. It mentions only ġasl and tayammum the distinction between which is most clearly expressed in Q. 4: 43:

Do not approach the [place of] prayer when you are befuddled, until you know what you are saying, nor in a state of ritual impurity (junub)—except for those merely passing through [the place of prayer]—until you have cleansed yourselves (taūtasilū); and if you should be ill or on a journey, or come from the lavatory or have touched women, and cannot find water, then make for (tayammamū) some pure soil and wipe your faces and your hands

Professor M. J. Kister, in a justly celebrated article on the meaning of the word taḥannuth, takes notes only casually of the related word ḥinth, which, he implies, means sin. Montgomery Watt had previously noted that ‘ḥinth is properly the violation of or failure to perform an oath, and so more generally sin.’ These are of course correct reflections of the Muslim lexicographical tradition. But, I shall argue in this essay, they do not exhaust the connotations of the word ḥinth: indeed they are probably secondary developments from the meaning which I shall explore here. It is not the least benefit of my proposal that it may—after a lengthy exploration of juristic vocabulary—cast new light on the meaning of the word taḥannuth, for so long a crux in the academic study of the biography of the Muslim Prophet.

‘ Les lois de compétence ne sont done plus les mêmes pour tous ceux qui se trouvent en Algerie. Aujourd'hui une distinction doit être faite, et, ce qui doit paraître invraisemblable en France, au xxe siècle, le critérium de cette distinction est religion.’

Considering the unique position of the Modern South Arabian languages within Semitic it is surprising how little has been published concerning them. A case in point is the Jibbāli language of Dhofar, whose extreme phonetic and phonological complexity should arouse the interest of the general linguist as well as of the Semitic specialist. This becomes clear in even a brief perusal of the most notable pioneer study of the language, T. M. Johnstone's Jibbali lexicon.

Arabs have always had a particular taste for brief, concise and witty idioms and proverbs. Whereas an idiom is a ‘transition point’, a necessary introduction to the forthcoming discussion, a proverb is, instead, the climax of that event, the most important domain for the display and evaluation of verbal art. The view is occasionally expressed that proverbs are in fact a dead trait in the modern world. This view is due, at least in part, to the mistaken assumption that only illiterates use proverbs. It is doubtful whether increased literacy and education have seriously affected the quality and quantity of proverbial speech, at least in Arabic culture. Arabs' gatherings, formal and informal, are marked by highly formalized relationships. A formalized relationship gives rise to highly predictable and normalized language such as idioms and proverbs.

The last ten years have seen a remarkable increase in the number of published studies about the Sīrat Banī Hilāl, or, to borrow the term used by francophone specialists from the Maghrib as well as from France itself, La Geste hilalienne. The subject matter and the approach of these specialists has been varied. Their interests have focused on the myriad plots of the narrative of the sīra, the imagery employed, the performance of the shā ‘ir and the documenting of the texts, be they oral or written. In aggregate, these studies have done much to clarify the nature of the work itself and its relationship, if any, to the exploits of the real Banū Hilāl during and after the eleventh century within the Maghrib. They have also contributed to a better understanding of the literary value of all the best known Arabic folk epics.

Since the early years of this century, there has been a steady flow of publications containing editions of Uigur texts found in the Turfan region and brought to Germany. Not so the Uigur MSS of Dunhuang, which are kept in London and Paris. A good start was made by Le Coq, Thomsen and Pelliot in 1911–1914. Twenty years later, Bang, Gabain and Rachmati published the ‘Sūtra of Eight Heaps’. Another forty years were to elapse before the appearance of further material. Moriyasu mentions hundreds of MSS found in the cave which was given the number 181. There have, on the other hand, been multiple editions: The ‘ Story of the Two Princes’ was edited three times; recently, an Uigur text in Tibetan script was published—twice.

The discovery of the Anatolian family of languages early in the present century' confronted Indo-Europeanists with a verbal system of considerably less complexity than that which had been assumed, largely on the basis of Greek and Indo-Iranian evidence, to have existed in the latest common period of the parent language. This raised questions which are still keenly debated today. Did the simplicity of the Anatolian system represent something more primitive than the classic image of Indo-European, out of which the latter could be explained as a subsequent development, or was it the simplified outcome of an originally more complex system, close to that which had been reconstructed before the Anatolian family was known? Where Anatolian had isolated features (such as the ending -i(š) of the 3 s. preterite of the –ḫi conjugation) corresponding to features which characterized the whole of a paradigm in Indo-European (such as –s– in the sigmatic aorist), had it preserved a relic of a once fully-formed s– aorist which had been largely lost as a result of merger with other categories, or was this a 3 s. ending which had subsequently become incorporated into the stem to form a new kind of paradigm?.

Thailand has had a rich literary tradition in which, until recently, serious literature has always been equated with poetry. Classical Thai poetry written during the past 700 years has covered a vast range of topics: religion, history, romance, legendary figures, imaginary worlds and their inhabitants, to name a few areas. For each major composition, Thai literary anthologies provide representative excerpts, plot summaries, descriptions of verse forms used, biographical data for the author when known, and historical background information. Discussions of the organizational principles that lie behind the literary compositions, on the other hand, rarely occur. Rather, a tacit assumption seems to exist that the structural organization of a work is the same as the plot. An examination of literary selections, however, implies otherwise.

Of all the diseases which afflicted mankind in the nineteenth century cholera has a good claim to the unenviable title of being the most dreaded. It was certainly the one which prompted the first sustained efforts to devise and implement international sanitary conventions. The reasons why cholera was so feared are many. Until the second decade of the century it was confined to the Indian subcontinent—where it had probably existed since ancient times—and medical knowledge of it elsewhere was practically nil. In 1817, however, maritime trade carried the infection to other lands and thus began the first period of diffusion which lasted for some six years. By the early years of the twentieth century a further five massive epidemics had occurred, almost every country in the world had been affected and the cumulative death toll was measured in millions. Persia, being so close to the original source of infection, suffered in every one of those epidemics and also from several other more limited and localized outbreaks.

The dynasty which ruled the khānate of Bukhara during the greater part of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries claimed descent from Chingiz Khān's son Jochi, as did the Shaybānids of the preceding dynasty. It is known as Ashtarkhānid, to recall the place of origin of the family, viz. Astrakhan. More often it is referred to as Jānid, after Jānāī Muḥammad Khān, who is considered by some as the first ruler of the dynasty. But it will be seen that there is no clear basis for such an assumption, and that in fact his father and his eldest son were between them the founders of the dynasty

Emphasizing the importance of balanced geographical and historical knowledge in the late sixteenth century, Richard Hakluyt remarked: ‘Geographie and Chronologie are the sune and moone, the right eye and left eye of all history.’ In current studies of archaeology and history this emphasis remains apt, for to write a proper account of both artifacts and kings, they must be set geographi- cally in space and chronologically in time. The regions south of the River Yamunā, anciently known as Gopakṣetra, Daśārṇa, and Jejākadeśa (Maps 1 and 2), are rich in antiquarian remains, and have played an important role in the history of India, especially from the Gupta period to the time of the Muslim invasion. Their historical geography, however, has been generally ignored, and scholars have been content to describe the area simply as ‘ Central India’. The purpose of the present essay is to give an introduction to the historical geography of these provinces, and as such it can be taken as a foundation for further studies in local history and archaeology.

Kalpeni is one of the islands of the enchantingly beautiful small archipelago known as Lakshadweep, a group of diminutive coral islands lying off the southwest coast of India, scattered on the Arabian sea 200 to 400 kilometres off the Kerala Coast. The islands, though small, are densely populated-inhabited by an interesting tribal people, who are engaged mainly in cultivation of the coconut tree, and as a side-line, in fishing. The archipelago is part of the Republic of India, and is ruled directly by the Central Government since 1958. The events narrated in this article, however, took place when the islands were attached for administrative purposes to the districts of Malabar and South Kanara of the Madras Presidency (as most of British South India was called in the colonial days). Kalpeni Island was situated in that part of this territory of which the District Collector of Malabar was the supreme authority.

The subject of oracles and divination usually calls to mind two topics, the shells and bones of the Shang–Yin period, and the cast of the yarrow stalks with a view to constructing the hexagrams. Attention may then fasten on the inscriptions of the shells and the bones, or on the Changes, and their respective places in linguistic, religious, historical or philosophical studies. However, it is by no means always recognized that divination and oracles continued to be matters of considerable importance in their many forms in later ages, playing a significant role alike in political decisions, religious practice and scientific enquiry.

The fifteenth-century Cypriot chronicler Leontios Machaeras, whose Recital concerning the sweet land of Cyprus concludes in 1432, first mentions locusts thus: ‘And in 1351 the locust, with God's blessing, began to come to Cyprus (and did great damage).’ Strange as it may seem, this may have been the first visit of locusts to the island in numbers sufficient to be destructive. Soon other local chroniclers, as well as travellers, pilgrims, and merchants, joined Machaeras in recording such invasions. They may have been no surprise to the Cypriot chronicler, writing a little under a century later, but in 1351 they could well have been the cause of surprise, even terror, on the island.