Commentators noted the role of the religious right in the re-election of President George W. Bush in 2004. This essay suggests that such assessments are ahistorical and flawed, and illustrates the ways in which evangelical Protestantism has shaped American political life. Examples of the intersection of religion and politics include Jefferson's election in 1800, John Brown's trial and execution, Abraham Lincoln's Civil War leadership and William Jennings Bryan's radical democratic politics. The essay concludes by arguing that if American-studies teaching and research marginalizes religion it fails to comprehend a vital component of American society and culture.

This essay reflects on the use of competing rhetorical frames of fear strategically used by the academic community of The University of Texas at Austin in the debate on Campus Carry policy. With the legalization of concealed handguns on campus, fear emerged as a prominent trope in public discussions, albeit used in very different ways by supporters or opponents of the law. Against the more standard interpretation of fear-based rhetoric as an exploitation of others’ insecurities, this essay draws on mixed-methods research to examine expressions of fear by activist opponents of Campus Carry and the way in which supporters of the law sought to deconstruct it.

This article considers the cultural significance of the garbage panics of the 1980s, including the voyage of the infamous Mobro 4000 “garbage barge.” The article argues that the trash at the centre of these panics is important to our understanding of both the 1980s and the present because it demanded – and still demands – that Americans see and understand it as a class of matter unmoored from temporal as well as spatial boundaries. The alarming durability of the supposedly ephemeral refuse of a culture of mass consumption invoked an “archaeological consciousness” prone to muse upon the longevity of material remains. This consciousness was expressed in various cultural and discursive arenas throughout the 1980s, revealing that durable detritus was not just a pressing public policy issue but a marker of cultural anxieties emerging out of the operations of archaeological consciousness. From concerns about contingency of the mass-consuming culture of the late twentieth-century United States to reflections on trash's own epistemological complexity, trash spoke in unexpected ways throughout the 1980s, raising important questions about the relationship between producers of culture and their audience, whose receptiveness to the urgencies of archaeological consciousness suffers from a frustrating transience as far as trash is concerned.

Anna Hartnell's “When Cars Become Churches” begins by establishing a helpful context for understanding and fully appreciating the most recent gift to readers from Jesmyn Ward, her 2013 memoir titled Men We Reaped. In the wake of the tragedies of Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, John Crawford III, and Eric Gordon, Ward's memoir is a critically important addition to our understanding of the fragility of the lives of young black men. These are lives that matter deeply to Ward and to the community of DeLisle, Mississippi – and because of Ward's fearless, honest, and emotionally searing story, they are lives that matter to her readers. She realizes one of the great achievements of literature: the transformation of the reader who looks at the other from a distance into a reader who sees with the other. As such, her work – especially Salvage the Bones and Men We Reaped – helps to enhance affective and cognitive understanding of others and cultivate moral imagination.

This article explores whether or to what extent the contemporary espionage novel is able to map and interrogate transformations in the post-9/11 security environment. It asks how well a form or genre of writing, typically handcuffed to the machinations and demands of the Cold War and state sovereignty, is able to adapt to a new security environment characterized by strategies of “risk assessment” and “resilience-building” and by modes or regimes of power not reducible to, or wholly controlled by, the state. In doing so, it thinks about the capacities of this type of fiction for “resisting” the formations of power it wants to make visible and is partly complicit with.

The examination of historical works, and especially school textbooks on history, for evidence of national bias, is nothing new. Between the wars the focus was on British and German histories, which were an object of concern to the Committee on Intellectual Cooperation of the League of Nations. Since the Second World War the subject of national bias in historical works has been taken up by the Council of Europe and UNESCO. A recent study has been concerned with current British and American textbooks, which have been examined for evidences of bias against the United States and Britain respectively.

In the eighteenth century England had virtually no army and only a handful of administrators in its American colonies: the empire was held together by voluntary compliance, not coercion. One of the reasons the American colonists acquiesced in imperial decisions was that they had an effective way to influence them through London lobbies working on the Americans' behalf. London interest groups spoke and acted on behalf of their colonial correspondents before the ministry, the Privy Council, the Board of Trade and, less often, Parliament; in so doing they gave the colonists an input into imperial decision-making and provided vital information to the government.

Edith Wharton frequently likens Lily Bart, the heroine of The House of Mirth (1905), to a flower. Her name is ‘Lily’; when she kisses Lawrence Selden ‘her face turned to him with the soft motion of a flower’ in her privileged station in life she is an ‘orchid basking in its artificially created atmosphere’; and, in sum, she is‘ the fine flower and complete expression ’ of the ideals of beauty and social grace held by the old New York aristocracy. Most significant, however, is Mrs Wharton's use of rose imagery when describing Lily. For example, when Lily came to her friend Gerty Farish after having narrowly escaped the unwelcome advances of Gus Trenor, Gerty reflected that everything about Lily was ‘warm and soft and scented; even the stains of her grief became her as raindrops do the beaten rose’. Indeed, the entire society of which Lily is ‘the fine flower’ diffuses a ‘rosy glow’. Those who stroll these ‘rosy shores of pleasure’, such as Judy Trenor, have complexions of ‘rosy blondness’. The fastest rising star in the economic and social firmament is Simon Rosedale, ‘a plump, rosy man of the blond Jewish type …’

Emerson's notation in his journal: ‘ They look well in July. We will see them in December ’ about the prospects for Bronson Alcott's Fruitlands venture reflects a commonplace caution about communal ventures. Namely, that the heat of co-operative passion is often insufficient to sustain a community through later problems of crowded circumstances, changing perspectives and weak natures.

It is well known that The Adventures of Tom Sawyer was published in England in June 1876, almost six months before its appearance in the United States, and that the publication of the English edition was negotiated with Messrs Chatto and Windus by Moncure Daniel Conway. Clemens had given him a copy of the manuscript when Conway was returning to England after an American lecture tour at the beginning of 1876, and had authorized Conway to act on his behalf. Jacob Blanck records that the book was advertized in the Athenaeum of 10 June as ‘ready’, listed in the Publishers' Circular and Booksellers' Record on 16 June, and reviewed in the Athenaeum on 24 June.

On 10 July 1764 the Board of Trade ordered the circulation of a plan for the future management of Indian affairs among the Governors and Indian Superintendents of the North American colonies and requested their comments and criticisms. Diplomatic, territorial and commercial relations with the Indians were to be conducted in future by imperial officials, who would assume powers previously wielded by the colonies. Less than four years later, on 7 March 1768, the Board recommended that responsibility for management of Indian relations be returned to the colonies. The Superintendents retained only the role of conducting diplomatic negotiations with die Indians in cases where more than one colony was concerned and were to be stripped of direct authority. The failure of this attempt to introduce imperial regulation of Indian affairs both reflected and confirmed the intractable problem posed by the west in the years before the Revolution.

A creative collective, I'm Making A Boy Band (IMMABB) discuss the issues of postcolonialism and identity/gender politics surrounding the transnational circulation of K-pop by sharing their process of making a non-Korean K-pop idol group called EXP in New York in the form of an experimental “how-to” manual. They also talk about the possibilities of fandom in relation to feminism and sexuality by using an in-depth analysis of the K-pop industry as well as themselves whilst blurring the line between fine art and pop culture.