Chapter 1 examines Agnolo Gaddi’s work between 1392 and 1395 in the chapel in Prato cathedral, which was built to house the Virgin’s Belt, the most important relic in the city. Primary sources allow reconstruction of the ceremony during which the precious relic of the Virgin’s Belt was displayed to the public. The monumental narratives of the origins of the Holy Belt and its journey to Prato celebrated Prato’s favored status as custodian of the relic. Detailed surviving payments, here published in full for the first time, reveal a narrative of the chapel’s construction and decoration and bring to light how the artist, Agnolo Gaddi, collaborated with Florentine and Pratese artisans in the enterprise. Agnolo’s  professional and personal connections with the Pratese Opera, and the social identities of its members, expose a rich network of relationships in which the commission unfolded.

The essentially “Bloomsbury” features of the modern novel include the effort to find a significant form for personal relationships, innovations in the representation of gender and sexuality, and the cultivation of aesthetic environments. But Bloomsbury’s signature contribution to literary modernity is “the Bloomsbury voice.” Unlike other more radical forms of narration, the Bloomsbury voice (in novels by Virginia Woolf, E. M. Forster, Mulk Raj Anand, and Desmond McCarthy) bespeaks a residual commitment to history and a nostalgic faith in public authority. However, the Bloomsbury voice of historical authority engages ironically with history in crisis, and the result is not only quintessentially Bloomsbury but also a narrative mode more generally well suited to registering the crisis of modernity itself.

Brief remarks suggest different reading strategies to different readers, both specialist and nonspecialist. Those less familiar with modern Iranian history and politics are invited to begin with Chapter 1, the “Introduction.” More knowledgeable readers may prefer to skim over parts of Chapter 1 in order to begin with Chapter 2, “Tied Up in Tehran.” Thanks to the community of support who have contributed to this project.

This chapter describes material and immaterial labour in the context of the industrial production, resource extraction, and global circulation of the silvery-alkali metal known as lithium. It focuses on the different kinds of material labour involved in lithium’s extraction from local sites in and around the Atacama Desert in Latin America, as well as less visible forms of labour underpinning the mining industry, including the labour of social reproduction and colonial dispossession. In this context, it asks: how do narrative arts document the violence of lithium’s extraction as it materialises in damaged and dispossessed bodies and environments, as well as those less visible traces of lithium’s circulation around the world, and the different affective economies it inhabits? I suggest that a contradiction or tension between materiality and immateriality, between what is seen and unseen, defines every level of lithium’s transformation into a commodity, as registered within global networks of labour. These larger systems, I argue, are rendered invisible; just as lithium silently provides the charge for iPhone and Tesla, it is a vanishing mediator to what some thinkers have described as ‘new extractive imperialism’. This, however, becomes visible—precisely as a kind of ideological dissimulation—across a whole range of narrative forms.

Chapter 1 begins with a selective history of Christian–Hellenic intellectual engagement (including a detailed introduction to Julian and Cyril) in order to show simultaneously (1) the historical uniqueness (thus significance) of Julian’s and Cyril’s polemical projects and (2) the fitness of Alasdair MacIntyre’s insights for making sense of their engagement. The second half of the chapter presents MacIntyre’s analysis of the dynamics when “two large-scale systems of thought and practice are in radical disagreement,” with Julian and Cyril in mind. What I call “narrative conflict” is only one part of the theory that emerges from his argument, the complete scope of which pushes us also to consider whether traditions so engaged might have non-intersecting forms of reasoning. The chapter concludes with a brief consideration of what Julian’s and Cyril’s “narrative conflict” might contribute to how we think about religious and philosophical argument in late antiquity.

In chapter one, Brian Ó Conchubhair offers an examination of the metadiscourse “Revival” as a concept and the relation between revivalism and periodization. Narratives of revival too often repeat inaccurate narratives of Irish culture, to the point that our understanding of the Irish past, of Irish institutions and landscapes, suffers from unexamined conclusions about the Revival’s social and political efficacy and from images and tropes of Irishness that modern critics inherited from early revivalists. This is particularly apparent in the conception, promoted by some early revivalists, of the West of Ireland as a site of authentic Irishness. Indeed, in the Gaeltachtaí (Irish speaking regions), which have long been idealized as a stronghold of original or pure Irishness, a kind of zombification has taken place, one that in some ways displaces the long tradition of antiquarian and archaeological projects of cultural renewal and restoration.

Finnegans Wake and confession, in both secular and religious contexts, are each examined through the lens of the other. The aim is to ‘de-confuse’ the fusion, thrice repeated in the Wake, of ‘confession’ and ‘confusion’. Eight observations are illustrated through close reading: i) confession directs the text in two chapters, Shem’s in I.7 and HCE’s in II.3; ii) both present as public not private confessions; iii) there is no auricular confession; iv) widespread inadvertent confessions found in the Wake’s ‘fallen’ language, supposedly Freudian slips, are a source of sense-making power; v) any confession is always a qualified confession – blame is always dispersed; vi) there is no torture leading to involuntary confession; vii) the book doesn’t operate within the tradition of classical confessional texts; viii) it knows that confession split Christianity and projects that split onto the dialectical operations of the narrative. The chapter argues for the productive and overlooked potential of ‘syntagmatic’ or narrative approaches that read the text as sequential form, and it suggests that the plurality of narratives undermines theoretical generalizations of the human as ‘a confessing animal’.

This chapter examines the development of illuminated manuscripts in Late Antiquity, focusing on their origins, evolution and cultural significance. It argues that illumination was not merely decorative but played a navigational, didactic and symbolic role, aiding text comprehension while reinforcing religious and political authority. Tracing the transition from papyrus scrolls to the codex, the chapter emphasises how the Christian adoption of the codex format facilitated the rise of manuscript illumination. It documents how the earliest illustrated Christian manuscripts emerged in Egypt, influenced by pagan scroll traditions, magical texts and the Book of the Dead. These manuscripts incorporated symbolic elements such as the ankh cross and interlace designs, which later became defining features of Coptic and Byzantine carpet pages. The study then shifts focus to early biblical illustration, highlighting works such as the Vienna Genesis, Quedlinburg Itala and Rabbula Gospels, which reflect the growing role of visual storytelling in Christian texts. The chapter concludes by emphasising the imperial patronage of illuminated books, noting Constantine’s commissioning of grand scriptural manuscripts and the development of treasure bindings adorned with ivory and gold. Ultimately, the study demonstrates how manuscript illumination evolved as a medium of authority, devotion and intellectual transmission across Late Antiquity and the early medieval world.

Chapter 3 illustrates the poetics of illness experience by examining clinical conversations during a psychiatric assessment of a patient. Patients’ narratives in clinical contexts are often fragmentary and contradictory, reflecting their ongoing struggle to make sense of inchoate experience and position themselves in ways that elicit care and concern. Metaphors of illness experience open up narrative possibilities, but may be blocked by conflicting agendas or cross-purposes of clinician and patient. In place of an overarching integrative narrative are interruption, miscommunication, and mutual subversion. Focusing on narratives, with close attention to the speakers’ rhetorical aims, can identify situations of tension and misunderstanding, which can be clarified through cognitive and social analysis tracing the models and metaphors used in clinical exchanges to their personal meaning and embodiment and outward into the social world where they function as part of discursive systems that organize institutions and confer power. Close attention to metaphor in lived experience, social interaction, and cultural performance can yield an account of the dynamics of clinical conversations.

Chapter 5 focuses on the narrative shaping of the sense of self and of the process of transforming it in psychotherapy. We can advance our understanding of the sources of rhetorical power of metaphor through some version of the constructs of myth and archetype. Myth stands for the overarching narrative structures of the self and other produced and lent authority by cultural tradition. Archetype stands not for preformed ideas or images, but for the bodily or existentially given in meaning. Metaphor links the narratives of myth and bodily experience through imaginative constructions and enactments that allow movement in sensory-affective quality space. Examples from contemporary psychotherapy illustrate how healing metaphors can transform sense of self and personhood. While this approach is most obviously applicable to psychotherapy and other talking cures, which use language to reconfigure experience, it captures a discursive level of sense-making that is an important part of all forms of symbolic healing, whether during ritual actions, as part of the prior construction of expectations, or in subsequent interpretation of outcomes.

Experiences in mental illness are often highly subjective and out of the ordinary and may be difficult to describe in ordinary language. Through images, metaphors, and other literary tools, literature can facilitate understanding that would not be possible otherwise.

Portrayals of psychiatry provide important feedback for clinicians on how they are perceived by their patients and also for the public on how those with mental illness perceive their position in society. This feedback is often negative, but there are positive examples too. Patients often write about the humanity of the psychiatrist and appreciate their being versed in a range of disciplines, including art or music.

Literature is about weaving a narrative, which is an important part of recovery in psychiatry. Only in literature are we afforded more licence to use our imaginations and less bounded by the limits of reality. In literature, patients and psychiatrists can express many of their thoughts, feelings, and values that could be seen as inappropriate or ‘unprofessional’ in any other context.

Literary works can lay bare those aspects of the cultural and moral context of practice that we may not think about otherwise, including the origins of relevant societal and professional values.

This chapter explores the impact of José Esteban Muñoz’s 2009 book Cruising Utopia on both the creative production and critical reception of queer Latinx literary work in the following decade-plus. While Latinx literature and its study were already “queered” and “queering” before Cruising Utopia, the chapter argues that Muñoz’s work prompted a greater focus on futurity, potentiality, and the speculative, thanks especially to the unique generativity of his (queer, ethnic) performance studies methodology (especially his inquiries into affectivity, ephemera, and brownness) for literary studies. The discussion engages critical work from the 2010s to gauge both the scope of Muñoz’s contributions to salient critical debates over that period and the scope of some skeptical responses to those contributions. It then turns in closing to a targeted close reading of Carmen Maria Machado’s literary production from the late 2010s and early 2020s as a “representative” archive of queer Latinx literature “after” the utopian “turn.”

Through analysis of the novels of racial passing by six early twentieth-century authors – William Faulkner, Nella Larsen, James Weldon Johnson, Walter Francis White, Jessie Redmon Fauset, and Fannie Hurst – this essay explores how whiteness as unmarked norm at once facilitates passing in modern America and complicates narrative representation of it, and how literary modernism informs the authors’ negotiations with the complication. In doing so, the essay focuses on the paradoxical operation of the passer’s “Black-passing-for-white” identity. For, while enabling plot development and dramatization in accordance with passing fiction’s genre conventions, this identity framework inevitably suppresses passing’s unmarked working by making it narratively visible to the reader. The essay demonstrates that the modernist attentiveness to subjectivity – applied to varying degrees of experimentation, from fragmented interior monologue to third-person limited narration – helps the novels to reenact the invisible passing as well as resist essentializing the Black-passing-for-white identity around which their stories revolve.

Authenticity plays key methodological and normative roles for early Heidegger: as he puts it, to ‘work out the question of Being adequately … we must make an entity – the inquirer – transparent in his own Being’. But the precise nature of those roles, and how Heidegger differs from other thinkers of authenticity, is much less clear. This chapter considers three possible interpretations of authenticity found in the contemporary literature. On a transcendental reading, authenticity is what allows us to first recognize reasons as such and act in light of norms at all. On a unity reading, authenticity unifies Dasein’s commitments, and thereby grants a special narrative or judgmental coherence to my life. Finally, on the structural reading, ultimately defended here, authenticity is an inchoate awareness of the structural features of normative space and of Dasein’s own way of being. It is only this interpretation, it is argued, that can make sense of Heidegger’s text and the centrality of authenticity within his early work.