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In her analysis of the rising prominence of recent short and flash fiction, Angela Naimou considers narrative brevity as an opening to geopolitical and temporal expansiveness in her chapter on “Short, Micro, and Flash Fiction.” Measured in major prize awards, sales, or downloads, short and short-short fiction have paradoxically thrived during the spatial and temporal conceptual expansions of, for example, globalization and the Anthropocene. Naimou identifies the techniques of short fiction representing planetary stories of migration, climate crisis, and evolutionary history in works by Teju Cole, Edwidge Danticat, Rachel B. Glaser, Viet Thanh Nguyen, and George Saunders.
Mark Goble uses the concept of convergence to explore the implications of formal and temporal compression, economy, and slowness in an age of unprecedented expansion and speedup. Richard McGuire’s Here presents an extreme example of spatial restriction and temporal expansion, while novels by Ruth Ozeki, Richard Powers, and William Gibson juxtapose ecological, scientific, technological, and theological timespans to human ones in ways that echo postmodern and science fiction precursors, but with very different aims and warnings in mind for denizens of the Anthropocene.
Mary Pat Brady’s chapter poses an alternative approach to hemispheric fiction by reading not according the scales of concentric geometries of space (local, regional, national, transnational), but instead reconceptualizing what she terms “pluriversal novels of the 21st century.” She argues for attending to the complexly mixed temporalities, perspectives, and languages of novels that reject the dualism of monoworlds (center/periphery) for the unpredictability of stories anchored in multiple space-times. While this is not an exclusively 21st-century phenomenon, she shows that pluriveral fiction has flourished recently, as works by Linda Hogan, Jennine Capó Crucet, Julia Alvarez, Gabby Rivera, Karen Tei Yamashita, Ana-Maurine Lara, and Evelina Zuni Lucero demonstrate.
This article deals with a question foregrounded by historian Willem van Schendel in his seminal 2002 article ‘Geographies of Knowing, Geographies of Ignorance’: how do arms, arms flows, and associated regulatory practices reshape the geometries of authority and power in borderlands? The rich transdisciplinary literature on borderlands has fruitfully deployed van Schendel's insights to re-spatialise areas and states but has devoted scant attention to such question. Drawing from ‘new materialist’ scholarship in IR and the concept of scale in political geography, the paper argues that fluid and fractionally coherent combinations of weapons as technical objects that come from somewhere, rationalities, and techniques of arms control reproduce multiple scales of territorial authority and struggles over scaled modes of governing violence in borderlands. Such struggles of scales and about scale constantly reconfigure the territorial arenas of authority on violence at the edge of the state. Based on fieldwork in Ta'ang areas of northern Shan State, Myanmar, the article develops an empirical analysis of encounters between explosive devices/landmines and the subjects and spaces they target. Delving into the processes and practices of ‘making’ and controlling the ‘landmine’, I find that different socio-political orders confront themselves through rationalities, techniques, and practices of humanitarian arms control via which they navigate/jump across scales, forge new ones, or mobilise multi-scalar alliances. Different types of ‘dead’ and ‘alive’ landmines nonetheless defy these attempts at rescaling territorial authority over violence by acting in unforeseen manners at the scale of their own ecologies of violence.
The PDSS-24 is a Portuguese short version of the Postpartum Depression Screening Scale (Beck and Gable, 2002). Items were selected on the basis of exploratory factor analysis (those with loadings >.60). The PDSS-24 proved to be superior to the 35-items PDSS in reliability, validity and screening ability (Pereira et al. 2013).
To analyze the psychometric properties (construct validity using Confirmatory Factor Analysis, discriminant validity and reliability) of the Brazilian preliminary version of PDSS-24
After confirming the items semantic equivalence and slightly adapt two adjectives from European to Brazilian Portuguese, 350 pregnant women (Mean age: 30.01±5.452; Mean gestation weeks=25.17±6.55), with uncomplicated pregnancies, completed the PDSS-24 and the Brazilian recently validated versions of Profile of Mood States-25 (PoMS; Barros et al. 2021). SPSS and AMOS software were used.
After some errors were correlated the multidimensional second-order model of PDSS-24 presented an aceptable fit (χ2=3.448; RMSEA=.099; CFI=.817, TLI=.886, GFI=.886). The PDSS Cronbach’s alpha for the total was α=.90. Cronbach alpha was .90 for the total and >.75 for the dimensions. Appling the Portuguese validated cut-off score for Major Depression/DSM-5 (>42) to this sample 224 (64.0%) participants presented clinical relevant depressive symptoms.
The Brazilian PDSS-24 has acceptable validity and reliability. The percentage of women with high depressive symptomatology is three times higher than the figures reported in Portuguese Studies. This can be partly explained by the fact that data collection was done during the COVID19 pandemic. It is important to determine the PDSS cut-offs to screen for perinatal depression in Brazil.
Cities are often the sites of apocalyptic ruptures, and more often than not, urban locations operate as spaces to flee after everything has gone sideways. Yet the city is more than a place to flee; the city –– in its predisaster moment –– already offers innovative and creative forms of community in everyday life that already speak to a potential for radically different modes for living. This chapter focuses on the tension between the apocalyptic as a stage for imagining a future world that reproduces more of the same and the apocalyptic that opens a space for actually reimagining the future is crucial to Kim Stanley Robinson’s New York 2140 (2017). Two particular attributes make New York 2140 a crucial text in the post-apocalyptic genre, its dismissal of nostalgia for the pre-apocalyptic world and its thinking at multiple scales.
Space matters for global politics but the treatment thereof in International Relations (IR) has been uneven. There is broad interest in spatial aspects across many research communities but only a nascent theoretical discussion and little cross-field communication. This article argues for a fuller engagement of IR scholars with sociospatial concepts and proposes a spatial approach to global politics based on four essential dimensions: a spatial ontology, the constructedness of space, a scalar perspective, and the interaction of materiality and ideas. As one possible way of integrating these aspects into a more specific concept, the article elaborates a framework of spatial practices and uses the example of Arctic Security research to illustrate the upsides of such a spatial approach for IR research.
Drawing attention to the Anthropocene as both proposed geological epoch and discourse about the Earth’s future, the Introduction examines the Anthropocene’s challenge to the value of literature and literary criticism and the opportunity it offers to reinvigorate both. It works from and summarises the chapters in the book while highlighting arguments and perspectives from Anthropocene studies in literature and environmental humanities. Citing diverse writers, it argues that literature can deploy its unique practices (narrative, poetics, etc.) and faculty for imagining the future towards an understanding of humans’ interconnection with the Earth that the Anthropocene demands; and that it can best do so by adapting and evolving those practices towards sharing divergent experiences (e.g. stories of people and species disseminated online) and, via (say) experimental poetry or elongated narrative, relating human beings to exponentially vaster scales: deep history, Earth, the distant future. The Introduction concludes with a case study of Chile which underlines literature's and culture’s value in mediating the complex social, cultural and ontological questions that the Anthropocene poses.
The Anthropocene is a proposed geological epoch marking humanity's alteration of the Earth: its rock structure, environments, atmosphere. The Cambridge Companion to Literature and the Anthropocene offers the most comprehensive survey yet of how literature can address the social, cultural, and philosophical questions posed by the Anthropocene. This volume addresses the old and new literary forms - from novels, plays, poetry, and essays to exciting and evolving genres such as 'cli-fi', experimental poetry, interspecies design, gaming, weird, ecotopian and petro-fiction, and 'new' nature writing. Studies range from the United States to India, from Palestine to Scotland, while addressing numerous global signifiers or consequences of the Anthropocene: catastrophe, extinction, 'fossil capital', warming, politics, ethics, interspecies relations, deep time, and Earth. This unique Companion offers a compelling account of how to read literature through the Anthropocene and of how literature might yet help us imagine a better world.
This chapter turns to consider questions of scale by interrogating the multilayered system of governance that REDD+ envisions, as established through the allocation of forest resource rights to diverse social actors at the local, national and international levels. It reads debates about carbon rights in REDD+ alongside broader trends relating to natural resource governance, common property regimes (CPRs) and community resource management to show how frameworks for the allocation of layered, or nested, rights in the forest carbon economy is another legal technology through which authority over land is transferred to international actors and away from people who live in and around forested areas.
This article examines large-scale spatial and temporal patterns in the agricultural demographic transition (ADT) of Mesoamerica and southwestern North America (“the Southwest”). An analysis of published settlement and subsistence data suggests that the prolonged ADTs of these regions involved two successive eras of rapid population growth. Although both periods of growth were fueled by the introduction or development of more productive domesticates, they had distinctive demographic and social consequences. The first phase of the ADT occurred only in a scattering of favorable regions, between 1900 and 1000 BC in Mesoamerica and 1200 BC–AD 400 in the Southwest. Its demographic consequences were modest because it was underwritten by still rather unproductive maize. During this phase, increased population was confined mainly to a few agricultural heartlands, whereas surrounding regions remained sparsely populated. The second phase of the ADT was more dramatic in the spatial scale of its impact. This “high productivity” phase unfolded between 1000 and 200 BC in Mesoamerica and AD 500–1300 in the Southwest, and it was fueled by more productive maize varieties and improving agricultural technologies. It was accompanied by sweeping social, economic, and political changes in both regions.
We briefly describe the species-area relationship (SAR) and summarize the different types, including the main dichotomy of island species–area relationship (ISAR) and species accumulation curves (SAC). We discuss the classification of the ISAR as a fundamental ecological law, despite its protean nature. Exploring this protean behaviour, we review the different ways in which ISAR form has been shown to vary between datasets. The final section outlines the structure of the book and provides a summary of the remaining chapters.
The slope and shape of the nested species–area relationship (SAR) can be derived using geometrical considerations. The local slope of the nested SAR is determined by mean species occupancy at a given scale. Thus, any factor that affects the scale dependent occupancy patterns of individual species will affect the overall shape of the nested SAR. Using only geometric considerations, we can derive not only the formula relating mean occupancy to the overall nested SAR slope, but also the overall triphasic shape of the nested SAR. The relatively shallow slope of the nested SAR at intermediate spatial scales, which can be well approximated by a power law, can be attributed to the scale independent (approximately fractal) spatial distribution of individual species. The shape and slope of the nested SAR are linked to beta diversity patterns as well as to the species abundance distribution (SAD), although we argue that the SAD is in fact a derived pattern which cannot be used to construct the nested SAR. In general, geometrical considerations provide a first-order explanation of the nested SAR, while biological factors affect the basic parameters of species distributions and thus act to determine the specific nested SAR in any given case.
Local Content and Sustainable Development in Global Energy Markets analyses the topical and contentious issue of the critical intersections between local content requirements (LCRs) and the implementation of sustainable development treaties in global energy markets including Africa, Asia, Europe, North America, Latin America, South America, Australasia and the Middle East While LCRs generally aim to boost domestic value creation and economic growth, inappropriately designed LCRs could produce negative social, human rights and environmental outcomes, and a misalignment of a country's fiscal policies and global sustainable development goals. These unintended outcomes may ultimately serve as disincentive to foreign participation in a country's energy market. This book outlines the guiding principles of a sustainable and rights-based approach – focusing on transparency, accountability, gender justice and other human rights issues – to the design, application and implementation of LCRs in global energy markets to avoid misalignments.
In the tradition of educational innovation, when we create something we like, we try to take it to scale. But schools that take thriving as a core purpose all have distinct purposes and approaches. Their approaches are embedded in a context, responding to local narratives, needs and resources. There is no way, therefore, to 'scale' thriving. Regardless, scaling in educating has mostly been unsuccessful. Instead we can focus on how to grow and spread the diversee narratives, logics and practices that promote thriving. This starts wih removing inhibitors, including our tendency to confuse measurable outputs of education with the outcomes we desire; the excessive scrutiny of some accountabilitty and monitoring sysems; and the lack of resources available in underfunded or inequitable systems. Then we can focus on conditions for growth: framing our purposes in design principles that support and direct decision-making; creating supportive newtorks of professionals and other partners; and developing a social movement for change. Thriving – at all levels – will become a purpose of school when more of us speak out openly to affirm that it should be.
I grew up in one corner of the American West where two events marked my developing environmental sensibility. I had my “machine in the garden” moment in Seattle during the mid-1970s when I was eight years old, the age when geographer Yi Fu Tuan says we begin to develop emotional attachments to places. I remember stopping in my tracks as I passed a window overlooking my elementary school playground. Transfixed, I watched through the frame as a bulldozer chewed aging concrete like a mechanized Cookie Monster. The machine rolled through rusting jungle gyms and tetherball courts and across the painted yellow lines of foursquare courts and hopscotch games. The bulldozer revealed brown dirt just inches below the surface.1
Both Holmes and Langdell recognized the primacy of procedure but differed in how they understood the development of legal doctrine from that common starting point. This part begins by exploring those differences and their implications for legal pedagogy. The rise of the modern law school necessitated the reformulation of law itself. Holmes articulated his basic conception that the legal profession had to refine its sense of the different interests at stake and how they could best be proportioned. From first to last Holmes sought for law (and lawyers) to grow more civilized. He objected to traditional shibboleths regarding the importance of a university education or of using the Roman civil law or morality (such as some version of Natural Law) as a propaedeutic. Holmes had faith in the effort to structure through law a civilization still coming into its own. He also believed law should become its own discipline, building from within the practice a greater comprehension of law’s effects. The part concludes by showing that Holmes’s attempts to unify law as a discipline were ill-fated but the same result could be achieved by viewing law in 3D, that is, stereoscopically.
While the field of environmental justice studies has produced robust theoretical and methodological advances and tools for exploring the intersections among ecological harms and social inequalities, there are numerous limitations within that body of literature. Critical environmental justice is a framework proposed to address some of those gaps, and is applied in this chapter to the case of the Israel-Palestinian conflict to illuminate some ways through which scholars can 1) expand the range of social categories considered in EJ studies, 2) employ and pursue a multiscalar analysis of EJ conflicts, 3) interrogate the logic of dominance and hierarchy that pervade much of EJ scholarship and politics, and 4) introduce the idea of indispensability—a form of ethical political ecology—to address narratives and practices of expendability that underlie many EJ conflicts.
Chapter 3 introduces a range of multidisciplinary data sources available to study disasters and history and outlines some of the methodologies through which we can interpret and analyze these sources. The underpinning argument is that we can use history as a laboratory to better understand disasters – testing hypotheses rather than merely describing conspicuous phenomena, albeit with a recognition of what this also demands of us as historians. In particular, we discuss the production of suitable measures and methods to understand hazards and their effects, whilst also keeping in mind the limitations of the historical record and the need for a critical approach to sources. We consider, therefore, state-of-the-art challenges in historical disaster research such as how we can compensate for lacunae in the historical record by incorporating rapidly increasing volumes of data from the natural sciences, and the opportunities and pitfalls of historical ‘big data’. The chapter concludes by arguing for the importance of systematic comparative methodologies in moving beyond the descriptive and towards the analytical, which requires that we pay particular attention to scale and context.
Within the field of disaster studies there has always been the need to classify and label disasters. Researchers have distinguished between different types of disasters in terms of causes, outcomes, the element of surprise, scale, or scope. Chapter 2 discusses the pros and cons of the different classification systems, and also poses the question of whether it makes sense, in view of the large diversity of disasters, to study and compare these different types. Is it possible to move beyond the specificity of earthquakes or pandemics? We believe it does make sense. As historians, we can take a higher level of abstraction, revealing the similarities between different types of disasters. In order to understand why some societies coped more effectively with hazards and which characteristics were decisive in this, we can make use of various key concepts, namely disaster management, vulnerability, resilience, and risk. Overall, it is clear that hazards and disasters are not natural events but social processes.