Cervantes’s novel Don Quixote has exerted a unique influence on the history of the novel, because it tests, more exhaustively than any other, the bonds that tie fiction to the world that it partly invents.

This essay argues that the work of J. M. Coetzee is shaped, to a significate degree, by his long dialogue with Cervantes, which turns around a critical examination of what is here called the ‘anatomy of realism’ – the capacity of realist works of art to enter into the structuring of our life worlds. Coetzee’s engagement with Cervantes can be felt throughout his writing career, but it comes into particularly sharp relief in his later work, and particularly in his 2013 novel The Childhood of Jesus. It is in this work, the essay argues, that Coetzee’s reanimation of Don Quixote is most productive, as it reaches towards a dramatically shifted conception of realism, and of the relation between the imagination and the world.

This chapter examines several feminist approaches to the study and practice of international relations. It highlights the similarities between these approaches, but also the differences. It does this first by tracing the interventions made by feminists into international relations and the creation of a distinctly feminist IR agenda. Second, it uses the ‘gender lens’ to demonstrate and analyse how experiences and understandings in international relations can be ‘gendered’. Finally, it explains and examines the critiques made by the different feminist approaches to international relations.

This chapter offers an historical grounding in interwar international relations. It tracks and analyses the progress of international relations in the period between World War I (1914–18) and World War II (1939–45), both of which are rightly seen as two major and formative conflicts in international history and indeed for the study of International Relations. It is sometimes assumed that the two World Wars were primarily European affairs, at least in their origins, and reflected the persistence of European predominance in a fast-changing world. Yet these were truly global and globalising wars, as reflected in their causes, courses and consequences, the technologies they employed and the ideas they helped generate. The period in between the wars was a turbulent and unstable one. It foreshadowed European decline and witnessed the rise of the United States, the challenge of the Soviet Union and the Far East and, more gradually, of peoples around the world subject to imperial rule – in short, the interwar period provided the foundations for the international system that developed over the following decades. Many of its contours are still visible today.

This chapter tracks the emergence and acceleration of global environmental problems since the end of World War II and delineates the field of global environmental politics. It also introduces the proposed new geological epoch called ‘the Anthropocene’ and the concept of planetary boundaries along with the key global environmental discourses of limits to growth/degrowth, sustainable development/green growth, ecological security and environmental justice. The chapter then examines how scholars working in the major theoretical traditions of International Relations – realism, liberalism, Critical Theory, constructivism and English School theory – have approached global environmental challenges. The conclusion reflects on the pivotal roles of the United States and China in tackling global warming.

This chapter examines the rise and growth of human rights. First, it discusses the historical development of human rights. Second, it outlines how human rights are understood today. Third, it explains how the liberal universalism that lies behind human rights has come up against cultural resistance. Finally, the chapter touches on some challenges that lie ahead in the struggle for human rights.

This chapter reflects on the tradition of Western political thought known as realism. Its main purpose is to identify who realists are, and to explain what realism is in the study of international relations. The first part of the chapter introduces students to some important thinkers, both ancient and modern, ascribed to the realist tradition. It also identifies two broad strands of realist thought: ‘classical’ and ‘structural’ or ‘neorealist’. The second part investigates attempts to conceive realism as a unified theory and practice of international relations. It highlights realism’s central concepts of the state and anarchy before reflecting on realism’s normative dimension.

What is an international organization? Intergovernmental agreements often create new institutions such as the United Nations which have independent status and some autonomy. This chapter considers how these organizations come into being and how they are studied by scholars of international politics and law. Depending on how one looks at things, an international organization can appear as an actor in world politics, a place where politics happens, or a resource used by others in political fights. These are the roles of actor, forum, and resource. I examine the main scholarly theories that are often applied to understand the function and effects of international organizations in international relations: realism, liberalism, constructivism, and marxism.

This chapter looks at the ways sf visions of the future published in the decades following World War II both challenge the dominant ideology of American exceptionalism – the notion that the United States is a single homogenous nation uniquely exempt from history – and the Program Era division between literary and genre fiction. Both Program Era realism and sf develop representations of the present. However, sf’s mirror is a distorting anamorphic one, presenting imaginary futures that help its readers cognize the contradictions, conflicts, and struggles that are always at work in any historical situation, and which naturalizing formulations such as American exceptionalism occlude. The chapter traces shifting practices of representing the future, beginning with 1950s dystopias, postapocalypses, and alternate histories through the radical visions of the New Wave and the new practices of postmodern cyberpunk and critical dystopia up to the recent wave of literary sf and climate change fiction.

Foreign policy in the period covered in this volume was largely dominated by the Australian response to the events of 11 September 2001 and its consequences. A federal election campaign was keenly anticipated at that time, but foreign policy issues – beyond the question of the treatment of asylum seekers – were not expected to be a major concern. Little that had happened so far in that year prefigured what was to come. The new George W. Bush administration in Washington had signalled its intention to adopt a distinctive and less internationalist stance, refusing to adhere to the Kyoto Protocol (intended to restrain the global emission of greenhouse gases) and taking a much more critical view of the rising power of China. Although there were signs that on these issues Australia was likely to follow the US lead, and the initiation of studies on the impact of a free trade agreement with the USA was a further indicator of the potential similarities in outlook of the two governments, the closeness post-11 September of the Howard Government’s alignment with its Washington counterpart surprised even some conservative commentators.

‘Concepts and Universals in Aristotle’s Metaphysical Thought’ by Christof Rapp starts with the recognition that Aristotle does not have a general term for ‘concept’ and examines which entities in his metaphysical theory might play the role of concepts. According to Rapp, many of Aristotle’s discussions focus on the meaning of general terms and whether they signify something real and existing independently in its own right. Aristotle remains committed to the view that universals as captured by genuine definitions are crucial for human knowledge and understanding. Insofar as Aristotle resists a conception of universals as existing in the way that particular substances do, he can be taken to intimate that universals are ‘merely conceptual’. In the Metaphysics, he distances himself from the view that universals such as genera and species qualify as substances. His main contribution to our thinking about concepts consists in the view that both universals and embodied substantial forms have mental counterparts, by which we grasp and understand the things falling under the conceived form or essential definition.

In Chapter 9, I move the focus from epistemology to ontology. I ask what kind of objects natural numbers are and show why different types of realist answers are problematic. I then endorse a constructivist account, according to which natural numbers exist as social constructs through our shared number concepts. This account is compatible with the social constructivist views of Cole and Feferman. However, I see my account as an improvement on their work because it provides a strong explanation as to why numbers are widely applicable social constructs. This explanation is based on the important role that proto-arithmetical abilities have both for the way we experience our environment and the development of arithmetic. Finally, I discuss the question of whether natural numbers as social constructs exist primarily as ordinals or cardinals, showing that, although more empirical research is needed, there is no reason to currently believe that natural numbers must be fundamentally ordinal.

As literary realism shed earlier providential paradigms, William Thackeray inaugurated a startling interest in alternatives to reality as essential for novels that would be true to life. These “queer speculations” saturate his writing: a child who might have lived, an accident that could have been avoided, a war that would have ended otherwise if only …. Thackeray’s counterfactual imagination matures from occasional stories of the 1840s, through Vanity Fair (1847–48), the Roundabout Papers (1860–63), and Lovel the Widower (1860). His conditionals range from frenzied anticipation to paralyzing regret, developing from wild wagers and total reversals of fortune in the early sketches to a late style where memory, narrative, and writing itself are marked by virtuality. This chapter examines uncertain experience in Thackeray’s oeuvre in relation to historical writing of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and accounts of counterfactual reasoning in psychology and narrative theory. Probing uncertainty’s emotional and tonal modulations, Thackeray’s writing widens the space of novelistic realism to include the nonmimetic, hypothetical, improbable, and open-ended – or what he terms the “might-have-beens.”

This chapter studies two contrasting models for predictive thinking and representation in Thomas Hardy. In The Return of the Native (1878), Hardy’s depiction of repetitive phenomena evokes one renovated account of logico-mathematical probability, John Venn’s empirical theory about how we judge from series of instances. In the novel’s palpably antiquated rural setting – where characters intuit more than they see, gamble by the light of glowworms, and infer human plots from long-run traces in the material world – the abstractions of Victorian logic acquire concrete form. In The Mayor of Casterbridge (1886), by contrast, serial iterations are compressed into images. Hardy designs literary equivalents of Francis Galton’s “composite photographs,” used to model statistical data and mental processes. Characters think in overlays, detecting a parent’s face playing over that of a child, designing a future self by laying transparencies over the present, and imagining human plots as grids from overhead. Serial and composite thinking extend to Hardy’s “approximative” theory of fiction. He uses these tropes as an implicit riposte to critics and advocates for a novelistic realism tolerant of repetition, coincidence, and improbability.

The Introduction provides an overview of the book’s argument about how novels in nineteenth-century Britain (by George Eliot, Wilkie Collins, William Thackeray, and Thomas Hardy) represented modes of thinking, judging, and acting in the face of uncertainty. It also offers a synopsis of key intellectual contexts: (1) the history of probability in logic and mathematics into the Victorian era, the parallel rise of statistics, and the novelistic importance of probability as a dual concept, geared to both the aleatory and the epistemic, to objective frequencies and subjective degrees of belief; (2) the school of thought known as associationism, which was related to mathematical probability and remained influential in the nineteenth century, underwriting the embodied account of mental function and volition in physiological psychology, and representations of deliberation and action in novels; (3) the place of uncertainty in treatises of rhetoric, law, and grammar, where considerations of evidence were inflected by probability’s epistemological transformation; and (4) the resultant shifts in literary probability (and related concepts like mimesis and verisimilitude) from Victorian novel theory to structuralist narratology, where understandings of probability as a dual concept were tacitly incorporated.

This chapter opens with a detailed definition of the Íslendingasaga, or ‘family saga’: stories about the lives and deeds of people living in Iceland from the Age of Settlement to the early eleventh century. The sagas’ mode of narration is described, with its thick description of the material culture and mental landscape of the saga world and its characters, its topographical specificity and apparently naturalistic depiction of saga society. The link between saga characters and the audience for whom the sagas were originally written is illustrated. An analysis follows of the emergence and development of Íslendingasögur and how they first came to be written down. The sagas are assessed as works of literature, with analysis of narrative voice, structure, themes and methods of characterization. The conclusion draws attention to how distinctive and innovative these sagas are, their appearance of reality disguising a highly selective manner. It is pointed out that although they are now amongst the best-known texts in Old Norse-Icelandic literature, they were not the first to be known outside Iceland, and the recent appreciation of ‘post-classical sagas’ is noted.

Rousseau’s chapter “Of Civil Religion” has perplexed readers ever since the publication of the Social Contract. For the book’s earliest readers, the chapter was a sign of its author’s theological heresy even if contemporary readers are likely to take a more benign view of Rousseau’s intention. The question I pose is why the formula for the laws and institutions set out in the earlier parts of the Social Contract requires additional support in the form of the religious beliefs examined in the penultimate chapter. I want to suggest that this chapter represents a nod in the direction of Rousseau’s political realism in his acknowledgement that civil religion remains an indispensable part of the education of republican citizens.