Search Results

Marie-Claire Blais fictitious autobiography Les manuscrits de Pauline Archange (1968-1970) and Isabel Allende's family chronicle La maison aux esprits (french translation of La casa de los espíritus, 1982) although fundamentally different occur at a breaking point of the social and political order of the writers' country of origin. This article seeks to differentiate and to establish relationships between the narrative and discursive strategies adopted by these women writers in order to inscribe, while at the same time distancing themselves from the social and political reality ordained by family, Education, State and Religion, those authorities which, through the discourse of reason, work together in the making of the social individual.

Relying on Hamon's notion of the esthetics and ethics of the normative (i.e. the links, at once genetic and polemical, between the poetic and the political), this article demonstrates how the African novel uses the portrayal of the fictional trial to overcome subjugation by Tradition and discredit the political power of dictatorships whose foremost weapon, as U'Tam'si says, is " to clip the wings of justice " in every sense of the term. By means of spectacular reversals whereby the judges find themselves in the prisoner's dock if they do not flee outright, the two novels discussed, Les cancrelats by Tchicaya U'Tam'si and Giambatista Viko ou le viol du discours africain by Mbwil a Mpang Ngal, embark upon a democratic project whose outlines still remain vague and tenuous.

AbstractThe predilection Sand shows for self-possessed characters goes back to her decision to adopt a male identity as a writer. Self-control, according to her a masculine attribute, means power, and power is what the sandian character wants most, especially if it is a woman. René Girard's theory of mimetic desire proves to be remarkably relevant to the understanding of these masterful characters, who are obsessed with the aristocratic, Cornelian, heroic model, until the novelist discovers, with Lélia, that such mimetic rivalry leads only to madness and death. Sand's conversion to a religious socialism prompts her to switch to a new type, the kind-hearted, motherly character, inspired by Christ as a new model. This new type however does not succeed in eliminating the domineering propensity of its predecessor, nor the self-possessed character itself which, therefore, may be the typical sandian character after all, since it embodies the main characteristics of the sandian novel, most notably its intellectualism, and its artificiality.

AbstractHistorians of Quebec have long been familiar with the central importance of the patriarchal family and women's role as mother within the home. What has received little attention has been the fate of those who defied the cultural norm and conceived out-qf- wedlock. According to contemporary Catholic mores, such individuals undermined the social order and, through their transgression, brought shame on themselves and their kin. Several solutions evolved to deal with this problem: privately managed maternity hospitals, exile to the geographically distant homes of friends or relatives, or submission to the care and control of religious orders. Roughly 20 percent of the illegitimate births in the province during the 1930s took place at the Hôpital de la Miséricorde in Montreal, whose extensive patient records provided the main source for this paper.Contemporaries understood the vocation of adult women in one of two ways, either as mothers-within-wedlock (real or potential), or as prostitutes. Single mothers had no place in this polarized view of women's role, and in consequence, they could rejoin "normal" society only by hiding their condition and its results. Within this perspective, the Hôpital provided a service both to the society, which sought to hide deviate behaviour, and the individual.Applicants for admission, the records show, were almost entirely French-Canadian Roman Catholics. Often orphans themselves, they tended to be young (60 percent were between the ages of ¡8 and 22), were either domestics (47percent) or lived at home (31 percent), and often suffered from health problems. Upon admission they took on new identities; the pseudonyms sometimes reflected the sense of shame the nuns sought to impose. Hospital policies reinforced this sense of isolation: visitors were discouraged, questions from outsiders were rebuffed, and, to a large extent, the patient was cut off from contact with the outside world. Most tellingly, the mother was not able to name her child after birth. Though social agencies encouraged mothers to keep their offspring, most of the illegitimate children were put up for adoption: only 14.6 percent left the Hôpital with their mothers. Once the baby was born, the mother was allowed two weeks to recover before commencing six months of service. During her entire time in residence, she was treated sometimes as a child, often as a criminal, and always as a sinner. In some cases the mother stayed with the nuns well beyond the normal term; in other cases, the records show, mothers endured their service against their will. A few atoned for their behaviour by joining religious groups.After birth, most of the children remained within institutional care; 37.7 percent of these children died before their first birthdays, mainly of preventable diseases. Their passing, which was reported to the mothers, was regarded by the nuns as fortuitous. For many of the patients, however, the Hôpital did little to relieve the trauma of their plight. For some, passive resistance or outright rebellion constituted their response; for others, self- induced abortion, marriage to the father, or simple endurance af the consequences of their actions were the chosen alternatives.

The act of kenosis described in the Carmen Christi (Ph. 2:6-11) has been repeatedly and correctly described as a spiritual attitude or disposition adopted by Jesus Christ who accepted death rather than resort to violence. Of the exegetes who have recently drawn attention to the political nature of the language used in this early Christian hymn, at least two — Heen (2004) and Oakes (2005) — understand the passage to contain an implicit critique of the violent exercise of power which founded and underpinned the Roman Empire. The article in hand supports this reading of the passage, proposing an interpretation of Ph. 2:6-11 as the expression of the (theo)political discourse which shaped the common life of the ekklēsiai which claimed Jesus as Lord. In this passage, the nascent Church projects a fecund utopia which promises a special place for the weak, a world made in the image of their Lord who renounced the divine honours so much sought after by the Roman elite. While recognizing the political implications of the message contained in the second chapter of the Letter to the Philippians, the author nevertheless maintains that the Church who sang this hymn would have understood its destiny to be found not only in a more just (earthly) world but ultimately in a heavenly kingdom in which the Christ would reign as a lord who serves all.