The concluding chapter summarises the key findings of the book by juxtaposing the workings of Accra’s old, established station with the designated function of a government-mandated and top-down administered public road transport terminal – the ‘new station’, as Accra’s urbanites have pithily dubbed it. It scales up the comparison to consider the significance of urban infrastructure as a ‘hard’ technical system and as a ‘soft’ system of sociality in relation to questions of governance, social order, and the significance of usage. Finally, it reflects on the broader implications of this study by pointing out empirical and theoretical continuities with the practices, places, and politics of urban hustle that go beyond this particular case of a West African bus station.

Abstract: This chapter examines 1870s children’s literature materially. It does this by emphasising, first, the children’s book as a material object and, second, the process of producing children’s literature within the material conditions of Victorian publishing. A discussion of the distinctive material attractions of the movable picturebook for children, such as three-dimensional pop-up pictures and manipulable mechanical figures, sets up the chapter’s focus on the value added by considering the material configuration of word and image in other books from the period. This facilitates a reassessment of well-known texts including Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass (1871), Kate Greenaway’s Under the Window (1879), and Christina Rossetti’s Sing-Song (1874). Features such as the distribution of illustrations across pages, the variation of editions’ content, and illustrations changing from manuscript to print restore children’s classics as materially specific objects rather than timeless texts conveyed immaterially from the 1870s to the present

The chapter examines tangible and intangible evidence associated with the Irish who emigrated and settled in America and who sometimes returned to Ireland and evaluates whether it can be considered as part of an Americanising of Irish identity. Material culture associated with Irish emigration to America such as posters, guidebooks, newspapers, wakes, places, spaces, letters, remittances and the returner, ideas and behaviours became integral parts of Irish society and their influence went beyond their practical use in facilitating departure. Each created a vision of America in Ireland which accords with Mark Wyman and Dirk Hoerder’s European-wide findings that two distinct images of America emerged in the home country: the ‘materialistic view of the land of wealth, and the idealistic view of the land of equal rights and democracy’. These largely positive views of America translated into ‘Americanising’ forces in Irish society alongside British and other European economic, political and cultural forces in Ireland. These two-way forces revolving around America as a destination and as a swiftly modernising country, particularly from the nineteenth century onwards, meant that Irish women and men of all backgrounds were exposed to American ideas, practices and behaviours.

This chapter probes the ontological foundations of territorial sovereignty by tracing its normative logic to two diverging conceptions of sovereign authority in Roman law: dominium and imperium. While the dominium-based perspective ties the legitimacy of territorial sovereignty to prototypical forms of precivil private property association, from an imperium-based viewpoint, territorial sovereignty entails only sovereign jurisdiction over persons within a given spatial domain. Tracing these viewpoints through their early modern uptake by Immanuel Kant, John Locke, and Thomas Hobbes, the chapter points to a key normative disjunction – namely, whether territorial sovereignty is legitimated by the facticity of precivil object acquisition or by associational bonds between human beings unconstrained by claim rights over given segments of land, water, and air. The analysis highlights that contemporary questions on the limits of sovereign authority – including on the “right to exclude” and on the legitimacy of the extraterritorial exercise of sovereign power – stem from a normative disjunction in the very idea of territorial sovereignty. The chapter argues that the moral-ethical dilemma of inclusion in a bordered world is profoundly imbricated with the ecological-ontological question of how we imagine our collective selves to be coconstituted with the land, water, and air around us.

This chapter studies global histories that consider aspects of the material world. It exposes the – often tacit – assumptions that guide these global material histories and holds them up for careful inspection. Its particular interest is in the grounds on which global material historians associate matter and material culture with a specific scale, context or level of observation: with world-making, the global scale and ‘connectivity’, but also with the concrete, the ‘micro’ and the intimate. In that context, the chapter discusses a wide range of themes, from the risk of fetishising material things – as in, reverencing them for properties, including ‘global’ ones, merely projected onto them – to the inevitability of canvassing some forms of materiality on a global scale: the pollution of air, for instance, or, for the post–Cold War era, the issue of resource shortages. The chapter argues that, like any form of historical writing, global material histories are under the influence of their practitioners’ own times’ socioreligious texture, global imaginary and discursive habits; mindful of the telos and conceptions that pervade their work, they will be better prepared to see the world of matter and material culture in all its changeability, elusiveness and polysemy.

This chapter examines the interrelationship between “a market’s materialities and practices” (Geiger and Gross, 2018) by offering an account of how a particular source of energy – wooden biomass – became a perferred energy resource in the Danish energy system. This chapter examines how biomass is qualified, i.e., identified, measured, framed, and, thereby, known. However, the materiality of forests and wooden biomass affords multiple understandings depending on the epistemic equipment – theories, models, and measurements – used. This introduces an epistemic uncertainty in how biomass can be known, providing opportunities for expression and enactment of interests, making policymaking more complex and more contentious. Our analysis highlights the antagonism and power struggles involved in the dynamics of market framing. The chapter concludes with a discussion on how the material ‘unruliness’ of biomass calls for complex accounting methods, leaving biomass incumbents much maneuver room and jeopardizing Denmark’s reputation as ‘a frontrunner’ in energy transition. The chapter contributes to Market Studies research by demonstrating the dual role of materiality in shaping (concrete, situated) interests and valuations while simultaneouly also affecting conditions for future maneuvering/actions. Further, the analysis brings out the politics of valuation.

In this chapter, I show how the urge to monumentalize the book-bound novel in the face of cultural and technological transformations inspires a range of strategies to make literature anew. Starting from contested notions of the “end of the book” and then examining several “renaissances,” I explore the resilience of paper-based literature in the era of its foretold death. First, I examine how comparative literary studies has responded to the shift from analog to digital by developing new frameworks and critical tools. Then, I zoom in on recent innovations in, and reinventions of, analogue literary practices, in book art and book design as well as literary fiction. I end with a reflection on a specific form of bookishness that emphasizes the novel’s size and scale, and thus reinvents it as monumental. On all these levels, we will see, the digital has brought the book, and the novel as the literary art form bound by the book, into sharper focus.

Chapter 1 introduces the problems to which this book responds and proposes alternative pathways for understanding the archaeology of the Roman Empire. It shows how particular colonial ways-of-knowing continue to shape the stories told of North Africa’s people and their traditions of worship under the Roman Empire, setting these within the binary of “Romanization” or “resistance.” While approaches to the archaeology of other parts of the Roman Empire have begun to embrace New Materialism as a way of moving beyond “Romanization,” this chapter argues that semiotic approaches offer a more productive means of engaging with and explaining the material dimensions of imperial hegemony.

This chapter surveys the numerous publishing formats of postwar story-manga and analyzes the way in which these formats have affected its visual and narrative structure beyond editorial choices or reader expectations. Starting from obsolete manga-centric publishing media like akahon and rental comics by minor publishers, the chapter moves on to introduce how monthly children’s magazines by major publishers changed into weekly and monthly manga magazines, which are still present in the market. I address Republishing practices and formats like pocketbooks and complete editions, each possessing different characteristics for different purposes. How digital comics have changed the way of providing and consuming manga content, giving way to new formats like webtoons is introduced. Finally, franchising, which has been raising manga sales even when the market has to battle diverse forms of rivaling entertainment and declining birth rates, is highlighted.

This chapter approaches the history of electric guitar music in sub-Saharan Africa through the perspective of the “new organology,” considering the unique imbrication of materiality and sociality within the cultural work of music. Multiple local and transnational networks impact the work of guitarists, including the movement of musicians, economic systems that circulate instruments, and the circulation of musical knowledge, genre, and instrumental technique. Networks are both embedded in the landscape—such as electrical infrastructure—and lay atop the physical, such as mobile data and social media applications. The author draws upon ethnographic interviews with guitarists from Ghana and Congo to show how these networks of circulation and the materiality of instruments can provide new ways of thinking about guitar music in Africa and the African diaspora.

A locus desperatus is, in text-critical terminology, a passage which we deem irremediably corrupt. In these instances, we use cruces and keep hoping for a salvific stroke of genius. It is one of the paradoxes of the Roman Empire that, along with its borders, it kept shifting the criteria for their perception. To the more sensitive minds of the age, the expansionary drive of the Romans opened up many a locus desperatus, where hitherto the simple formats of order, coherence and accessibility obtained. The Augustans do not simply mend the sore spots on the imperial map that have become illegible. Rather, they point to them and, at times, even indicate the way that this drive into vague infinity could be steered: through concentration and the creation of spaces which, in their concrete and sensual materiality, seem to counteract the vacuous phrases of a propagandist territorial politics. If we believe Suetonius, one man cannot be blamed for the vacuity of such an ideology: Augustus himself. Not only does he prove to be a careful reader and interpreter of his own destiny, intent on every single letter; in his last days, we also see him operating according to the improvised rules of a topopoetics whose phantasmagorical productivity is adumbrated in the famous deathbed words: ‘Life: a mime!’ This begs the question: how Augustus-like were the Augustans, and how Augustan was Augustus?

This chapter draws together the book’s overarching narrative by examining the regional transformations inscribed in the social and material architecture of the Italian care home, the Casa di Riposo, in Alexandria, Egypt. The institution was founded in 1928, at the height of the community’s importance in regional politics. Designed to house over 250 individuals, its inhabitants were fewer than 20 at the time of writing. Within its halls, it contains a locked and abandoned museum, aptly named ’The Time Machine’, which displays the accumulated objects of departed Italians. Walls grew around the building in proportion to Alexandria’s expanding population. During moments of political revolt since 2011, demonstrators’ calls for new futures reverberated in the Casa di Riposo’s emptying halls. Using the Casa di Riposo as an analytical lens, this conclusion suggests that imperial afterlives, even in states of absence and entropy, demonstrate the contested nature of historical temporalities in shaping migration, empire, and decolonisation in the modern Mediterranean.

Through close analyses of a wide range of Minoan animalian things, we have explored the specificity of their involvements in the experiences of people, and how those engagements contributed to the unique character of sociocultural life in the Aegean, on various levels. Here we draw out key points from across the foregoing analyses. Special attention has come to the objects’ inter-corporeal relationships with living humans and the connections that would have been realized through the objects’ particular qualities—connections with other animals, things, and spaces. Such relations were afforded through different dynamics, including bodily juxtaposition, cultivation of formal assonance, the sharing of specific features (e.g., a forward gaze), and embodiment with the same substances, as well as through similarities in size, composition (e.g., in friezes), and contextualization. Moreover, by working beyond an implicit focus on the design of the objects, to instead emphasize people’s actual experiences with them, we have opened the space for appreciating how both intended and unintended associations involving these complex things were in play together. We should view these not as alternative lenses on the objects, but as forces working concurrently, and upon one another, in the creative realizations that the animalian objects were.

The sociocultural spaces of the “Minoan” Aegean were teeming with animal bodies. Many of these animals were alive, but many were not—and never had been; the latter are our focus here. Realized across a range of media, such as zoomorphic vessels, frescoes, and seal stones, animals’ bodies took on a rich diversity of material and spatial qualities that could afford distinctive interactive experiences that the notion of “representations” fails to capture. By recognizing both biological and fabricated entities as real embodiments of animals, which could coexist and interact in Aegean spaces, the nature of our discussion changes. We see that the dynamics of representation were caught up in a much wider field of relationships involving these crafted bodies, which characterized their engagements with people. Doing so moves us beyond questions of signification and intentional design, and toward a fuller recognition of people’s actual experiences of animalian bodies. Looking closely at a variety of venues, ranging from palatial courts to a modest house bench, our focus thus can turn to how the world of animalian things was a crucial part of social life in Aegean spaces, and how direct interactions with these other animal bodies were central, yet often overlooked and minimized, components of human relations with nonhuman beasts.

This chapter looks at the legal consequences of the demise of the molecular gene within science with the rise of postgenomics in the later part of the twentieth century. It also looks at the apparent dematerialisation of subject matter that occurred as a result of the Myriad decision, when biological subject matter came to be seen in terms of instructions or information rather than as a material chemical compound. It ends by showing that despite this apparent dematerialisation that materiality has continued to play an important role in the way that patent law interacts with biological subject matter.

This chapter builds upon the previous chapter to look at the way that plant-based subject matter changed across the twentieth century as science began to look below the surface of plants at the molecular or cellular level. It also traces the shift from plant to biological subject matter which, over time, changed to become a molecular subject matter. It ends by looking at the role that materiality played in helping the law to deal with a molecularised subject matter.