This introductory chapter presents the aims of the book and its rationale in Section 1.1, including some insight into the author’s experience of teaching sign language for many years. Next, Section 1.2 provides some suggestions for how you can best use the book to advance your learning and provides explanation for some of the terminology and conventions used in the book. This section also provides some awareness of the systemic barriers faced by many sign language teachers and the limited amount of research on BSL teaching and learning. The following section, Section 1.3, then gives some details about the research and evidence basis of the book in order to provide the reader with some awareness of current research and understanding of this visual nature of the language. Lastly, Section 1.4 addresses a few questions that students commonly ask and expels some common myths around learning BSL.

Chapter 4 focuses on a selection of bestselling genres on the colonial book market in Peru by analysing them in terms of production modes, materiality, and potential users. It exposes how a focus on the colonial market must necessarily include the entire array of print publications and, in particular, the small printing jobs relating to local affairs that penetrated various spheres of urban life. While the many small-format reprints of prayer booklets prove that religion was a popular subject for books, an unpublished calendar enterprise serves as a case study to assess knowledge of religious and scientific nature in print. In line with hypotheses of a Catholic Enlightenment, the chapter turns from religion to practical knowledge with an analysis of manuals and how-to books, revealing a shared canon of reading material within the empire. Depending on local relatedness, titles of each of the genres originated either from local workshops or as imports.

“Gulliver’s Travels has long been connected to, and appropriated within, visual culture. The maps and portraits in early editions of the text are part of a complex paratextual apparatus which purports to establish its authenticity and veracity while simultaneously debunking that illusion. However, more recent use of imagery taken – often radically out of context – from the Travels bears witness to the work’s changing status, from literary satire to an element of popular visual culture. This chapter studies some of the various forms and representations involved in these processes, including illustrations, paintings, graphic novels, cartoons, and advertisements, and examines the ways in which images of and relating to Lemuel Gulliver and his travels, which were once unconvincing indicators of authorial reliability, have evolved. Over the centuries, Swift’s imaginary voyage has increasingly been epitomised and reworked, becoming part of a collective iconography familiar to a global audience that has often little to no direct knowledge of the original text.”

This chapter, necessarily making much use of Barber 1989, explores Western European illustrated editions of Longus, Daphnis and Chloe between 1626 (Crispin de Passe the Younger) and 2014 (Karl Lagerfeld’s Moderne Mythologie), picking out for closer analysis in a table nine printed between 1890 (Raphaël Collin and Eugène-André Champollion) and 1961 (Marc Chagall), editions which are witnesses to the European taste of the last decade of the nineteenth century and the first six decades of the twentieth. That table registers the different scenes in Longus chosen by different illustrators, which might have been expected to cluster around a few favourites: but alongside some favourites (Daphnis and Lycaenion, Chloe bathing Daphnis and herself, the couple’s wedding night) there are, as it reveals, many chosen by only two artists, some by only one. Other phenomena that emerged from its analysis are that Paris was the pre-eminent location for the production of illustrated editions, and that, unlike Crispin de Passe the Younger in 1626, later artists chose subjects bearing upon the couple’s growing understanding of ἔρως, ‘desire’, much more than ones depicting their few adventures.

This chapter handles the most extensive anatomical text to survive from antiquity, Galen’s Anatomical Procedures. It queries the innovations of the text and Galen’s motives in writing it. After introducing the unique character of the treatise and addressing the question of its illustration, the chapter approaches the text from three angles. First, it examines its composition, explaining Galen’s authorial process and the motivations for his rewrite of the original version. Next, it broaches its purpose, arguing that Galen intends it to stand alone as an instructional guide, thus subverting the contemporary educational norms of in-person instruction. Third, the chapter turns to the consideration of the audience of the text, both as Galen explicitly envisions it and as his implicit expectations reveal it; this includes discussion of the motivations, educational background, technical skills, and financial position Galen imagines for his readers. Finally, the chapter ends with a conclusion of the argument of the book as a whole.

Molière was an experienced actor and dramatist before he became a published author. He warned readers on more than one occasion that much of his art was simply lost in print. If that is self-evidently true, it is also the case that it was not all loss for Molière’s original readers: they could read his dedicatory epistles to society’s potentates whom he was trying to impress; they could read his occasional prefaces, in which he addressed his readers directly and with a lightness of touch that anticipates the dramatic text itself; and they could sometimes see illustrations that crystallised key aspects of his comic imagination. Moreover, readers would have been familiar with newly established conventions in the printing of dramatic literature that would have helped them to reconstitute in their mind’s eye aspects of performance: scene divisions evoking entrances and exits, and stage directions both explicit and (more importantly) implicit. The punctuation of the printed text is an unreliable guide to actual performances, but helps readers to hear the particular performance inscribed into the printed version of the text. Meanwhile, different editions, in the seventeenth century and since, with ever-evolving apparatus, offer readers increasingly varied approaches to the plays.

The morphology of quaggas, their taxonomy, habitats, and behaviors are described. Photographs, illustrations, and taxidermy specimens are employed to examine representations and descriptions critically, for example, did quaggas have horse-like tails, and were Daniell and Harris correct in their illustrations of body striping? My analysis of taxidermy specimens shows sexual dimorphism: stallions were slightly smaller than mares, which is unlike the situation in other subspecies of plains zebras. Quaggas, named Equus quagga by both Boddaert and Gmelin, lived in a variety of habitats in the Cape Colony and Orange Free State (areas that are now part of the Western Cape, Eastern Cape, Northern Cape, and the Free State provinces) including: the nama Karoo, succulent Karoo, fynbos, Albany thicket, savanna, and grassland biomes. A quagga breeding group consisting of a stallion, several mares, and their foals often joined other breeding groups to form a herd. Quaggas often grazed with wildebeests (gnus) and ostriches, and all three species probably benefitted from this association; these animals often migrated together in large numbers seeking grazing and water.

How to prepare a manuscript, acquire illustrations and permissions, review copyediting, proofread, and index a book.

To reveal the sophisticated and nuanced calculus of English stationers, this chapter explores the recursive relationship between readers’ responses to printed herbals and the activities of the publishers who catered to them, as well as the shifting regulatory mechanisms that enabled stationers to navigate the amount of financial risk that herbal publication increasingly asked of them.

This chapter considers the contemporary social and military context of the composition of Coriolanus including civil unrest, governance, education, the influence of the classical world, and later conjecture that Shakespeare himself was a soldier. In considering the performance of the play and its afterlives, attention is paid to stage directions, sound, character, and the subsequent adaptation and appropriation of Coriolanus and his mother in other media – art, poetry, film – that focus on the military, civil, personal, and political conflicts at the heart of the play.

Chapter 4 contains extensive references to exemplifications of the voice quality categories described in Chapters 1 and 2. Distinctive voice quality settings of actors, singers, media announcers, politicians, and other personalities are cited with specific references to be used as search terms to locate video and audio material online. A separate ‘Multimedia References’ section is included at the end of the text to facilitate searching. Long-term voice qualities are essentially extralinguistic, but they can also alternate among phrases of speech as paralinguistic ‘registers’. Many laryngeal postures, and their auditory output, are employed linguistically as syllabic registers or segmental units to signal contrastive lexical meaning. This is a result of the positioning of the laryngeal articulator at the beginning of the shaping of the sound stream, where background elements are easily patterned behind oral articulations. Extensive references to linguistic examples of lower-vocal-tract consonantal strictures and tonal register effects are presented within the text notes and are included among the video and audio materials online.