This chapter examines H.D.’s and Pound’s early work with Greek lyric – in particular, the Greek Anthology and Sappho. It traces Pound’s skeptical, ambivalent, and often self-contradictory use of Greek in the 1910s as he tries to articulate his poetics of the image, tracking the differing prisms (Provençal lyric, Bengali poetics, Chinese ideograms, Primitivism, Vorticism) through which he interprets the value of Greek as his own artistic alliances shift between 1908 and 1918. It contrasts Pound’s varying approaches, whether outlined in his prose writings on prosody and the visual arts or actually followed in his early poems based on Greek lyric to H.D.’s already highly sophisticated and well-developed perspective, as seen in her translations also from the Greek Anthology and Sappho – translations which are the basis of some of her best-known poems. The author argues, moreover, that H.D.’s engagement with Greece even at this early stage is more deeply textual, self-conscious, and historically aware than has been recognized. Nonetheless, she show that despite striking differences in tone and some distinction in approach, Pound and H.D.’s poetics were subtly evolving in similar ways.

This chapter considers H.D.’s translation of Euripides’s Ion (1937). H.D.’s Ion crystallizes her approach to Greek, redefining the practice of translation in the process; allows her to propose an alternative theory of psychic development contra Freud; and, finally, in its specific (mis)reading of the Euripidean play, foreshadows Pound’s treatment of Sophocles in Women of Trachis by making a strong case for the poetic and cultural relevance of Greek tragedy in the twentieth century. Pushing beyond accounts of the play available to her in the 1930s, H.D.’s interpretation of Euripides’ poetic strategies aligns with more recent scholarly accounts of his plays. Deploying differently the elements of commentary and translation in her multigeneric work, H.D. dramatizes both her own desire to believe in a triumphant narrative that would bind ancient and modern culture and would make poetry the cure or compensation for trauma, and the contingency or constructedness of such a position. The analysis of Ion is bookended by examinations of “Murex” (1926), and Trilogy (1944–46) that show the germination and evolution of the questions, ideas, and techniques that went into the translation of the play.

This chapter explores the multiple intertextual reference points that Salman Rushdie deploys in his work. While giving a sense of the range of influences in his work, an analysis of Rushdie’s use of intertextuality gives further insights into Rushdie’s artistic process but also the wider context of his own reading and cultural emersion in popular culture. Perhaps best captured in the idea of the ‘sea of stories’, Rushdie’s version of intertextuality finds links to his notions of hybridity encapsulated in both his characters and the production of his texts. This enables him to produce a wide network of transnational cultural reference points and to connect with multiple audience constituencies through a careful process of modulation of these. The chapter also explores the wider discursive notion of intertextuality as pioneered by poststructuralist theorists such as Roland Barthes and Julia Kristeva, in turn extending the work of Mikhail Bakhtin, which enables a contextualized analysis of the numerous vocalities located in his texts, exposing ideological power structures that Rushdie’s novels subvert and disrupt.

In The Moor’s Last Sigh, Vasco Miranda describes the artist Aurora da Gama Zogoiby’s work as ‘“Epico-Mythico-Tragico-Comico-Super-Sexy-High-Masala-Art” in which the unifying principle was “Technicolor-Story-Line”’. This also seems like a fitting description for Salman Rushdie’s visual style of storytelling. This chapter maps the broader context of the writer’s engagement with visual art and culture. It begins by examining the playful and political mobilization of visual intertexts in The Moor’s Last Sigh through the links between the character Aurora Zogoiby and the Hungarian Indian painter Amrita Sher-Gil. It then juxtaposes the visual interweaving in the 1995 novel with The Golden House by considering the visually established connection between the DC Comics supervillain Joker and the then soon-to-be elected president of the United States, Donald Trump. Beyond this engagement with the visual on a narrative level, Rushdie has collaborated with artists such as Anish Kapoor and Tom Phillips. Many others have created visual artworks based on Rushdie himself and his fictional work. The last section of the chapter analyses Rushdie and Kapoor’s collaboration, Blood Relations, a project that attempts a convergence of verbal and visual media, linking debates around visual representation, political engagement, and aesthetic autonomy in the face of violence.

This chapter traces key moments and motifs in the history of the translation of Greek texts primarily into English. It highlights how Greek translation becomes paradigmatic for translation tout court, informing both translation rhetoric and practice, and then tackles the model cases of Homer and Sappho, the former diachronically, the latter synchronically through several case studies from the first half of the twentieth century. It homes in on modernist writers’ particular understanding of translation as poised between critical scholarship and creative practice in order to argue that poets such as H.D. or Ezra Pound evade or even subvert existing modes of conceptualizing both ‘Greece’ and translation, thus opening the way for the plethora of approaches that characterize Greek translation today. The chapter concludes with a cautionary note as it examines the programmatic resistance to Greek translation displayed by Virginia Woolf and Yorgos Seferis.

Having systematically reviewed a comprehensive range of management measures across a wide range of rivers this chapter provides an overview of lessons learned to inform future management strategies. Key lessons are elucidated that relates to (i) urban flood management, (ii) the role of floodplain sedimentology in the design of effective hydraulic infrastructure (iii), the unintended geomorphic consequences of hydraulic engineering (iv), the palimpsest of floodplain management (v), dam removal and reservoir management and (vi), linkages between geodiversity and biodiversity. These lessons pertain to three main fluvial environments, including fluvial adjustment of channels, embanked floodplains, and flood basins and deltas. The study concludes by discussing reasons for concern and reasons for optimism as regards future management of lowland river environments.

In this chapter, we discuss evidence about the evolutionary forces that have shaped the evolution of the human pelvis, both in its entirety as well as portions of the pelvis, focusing on studies that have investigated pelvic evolution using experimental and quantitative genetic methods. These methods are tied to information from Chapter 4 about pelvis development, with emphasis placed on the importance of understanding the difficulty of tying development and growth with evolutionary processes. Special attention is placed on the concept of the palimpsest. Further, we review these findings in light of three principal hypotheses broadly offered about the processes that selected for pelvic shape (as reviewed in Chapters 2 and 3): locomotion, obstetric sufficiency and thermoregulation. We show from multiple studies that the human pelvis evolved in response to natural selection as well as through neutral evolutionary processes (e.g. genetic drift). A key conclusion from these studies is that parts of the pelvis evolved in different manners in response to these (and other) selection factors; thus, the shape of the human pelvis reflects a modular response to various sources of selection.

The repeated patterns of metropolitan urban activities that act as palimpsest in Chaucer’s fiction also impose themselves on our understanding of his place and achievement in late medieval and early modern London book history. The London Chaucer legacy takes on many different, often quasi-autobiographical, forms in the two hundred years following his death. Sensitivity to the dynamics of reader response inherent in his fiction among near contemporary and later writers ensured Chaucer’s works remained an important part of a vibrant metropolitan English literary culture. The making and celebration of an English past that glorified London remained a high priority within that culture among the book producers, copyists and printers who also serve as the first chroniclers of London’s Chaucer.

What is ‘heresy’? One answer would be, ‘that which orthodoxy condemns as such’; though we may also wish to consider when conscious dissent invites such a condemnation. The main ‘heresy’ in late medieval England was that usually termed Lollardy, understood to be inspired by the radical theological thought of John Wyclif (1328-1384), which among other things emphasised the overwhelmingly importance of Scripture, and of lay access to Scripture, through vernacular translation. Orthodox repression of heresy began in the late fourteenth century and developed in various ways in the fifteenth. There are small traces of these much wider battles in Chaucer’s oeuvre, but it would be very hard to say quite how he saw them. We might instead see the fluidity of attitude toward aspects of religion in Chaucer as a sign of his times. ‘Dissent’ can encompass more than that which is solidly decried as heresy, and ‘orthodoxy’ can turn out to be more than one mode of religious thought and expression.