This Halloween, a few books that won’t (shouldn’t!) die

If Halloween has you looking for a way to combine your love (or terror) of zombies and academic books, you’re in luck: Princeton University Press has quite a distinguished publishing history when it comes to the undead.

 

As you noticed if you follow us on Instagram, a few of our favorites have come back to haunt us this October morning. What is this motley crew of titles doing in a pile of withered leaves? Well, The Origins of Monsters offers a peek at the reasons behind the spread of monstrous imagery in ancient empires; Zombies and Calculus  features a veritable course on how to use higher math skills to survive the zombie apocalypse, and International Politics and Zombies invites you to ponder how well-known theories from international relations might be applied to a war with zombies. Is neuroscience your thing? Do Zombies Dream of Undead Sheep? shows how zombism can be understood in terms of current knowledge regarding how the brain works. Or of course, you can take a trip to the graveyard of economic ideology with Zombie Economics, which was probably off marauding when this photo was snapped.

If you’re feeling more ascetic, Black: The History of a Color tells the social history of the color black—archetypal color of darkness and death—but also, Michel Pastoureau tells us, monastic virtue. A strikingly designed choice:

In the beginning was black, Michel Pastoureau tells us in Black: A History of a Color

A photo posted by Princeton University Press (@princetonupress) on

 

Happy Halloween, bookworms.

Affordable Housing in New York: A slideshow of an urban landscape

Bloom LasnerAffordable Housing in New York examines the people, places, and policies that have helped make New York livable, from early experiments by housing reformers and the innovative public-private solutions of the 1970s and 1980s,  to today’s professionalized affordable housing industry. A richly illustrated, dynamic portrait of an evolving city, this comprehensive and authoritative history of public and middle-income housing in New York contributes significantly to contemporary debates on how to enable future generations of New Yorkers to call the city home. In honor of #Archtober, NYC’s month-long celebration of architecture and design, we’ve selected a few images from the book to share: 

Carolin Emcke awarded the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade Association

EmckePrinceton University Press congratulates German journalist and author Carolin Emcke on being chosen by the Board of Trustees of the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade to be this year’s recipient. The prestigious prize was established in 1950 and reflects the German book trade’s commitment to peace and understanding. This year, the prize is awarded in recognition of Carolin Emcke’s significant contribution to social dialogue and peace through her books, articles, and speeches. The Board of Trustees noted,

The work of Carolin Emcke pays particular attention to those moments, situations and issues in which discussions threaten to break down and communication seems no longer possible. In her highly personal and vulnerable manner, she regularly places herself in perilous living situations in order to illustrate – especially in her essays and reports from war zones – how violence, hatred and speechlessness can change people. She then uses analytical empathy to call on everyone involved to find their way back to understanding and exchange. Carolin Emcke’s work has thus become a role model for social conduct and action in an era in which political, religious and cultural conflicts often leave no room for dialogue. She proves that communication is indeed possible, and her work reminds us that we must all strive to achieve this goal as well.

We are proud to have published her 2007 book, Echoes of Violence: Letters from a War Reporter, an award-winning collection of personal letters to friends from a foreign correspondent who is trying to understand what she witnessed during the iconic human disasters of our time—in Iraq, Lebanon, Afghanistan, and New York City on September 11th, among many other places.

Previous recipients of the £25,000 prize include Amos Oz, Susan Sontag, and Albert Schweitzer.

Barbara Miller Lane: 10 Favorite Books on Architecture

In honor of #Archtober, NYC’s month-long celebration of architecture and design, Barbara Miller Lane took the time to share with us her “top ten” architecture titles. Lane is the author of Houses for a New World: Builders and Buyers in American Suburbs.  Often dismissed as “little boxes, made of ticky-tacky,” the tract houses of America’s postwar suburbs represent the twentieth century’s most successful experiment in mass housing. Lane’s is the first comprehensive history.

Pioneers of the Modern Movement from William Morris to Walter Gropius
Nikolaus Pevsner

Writing in exile from his native Germany, this future giant among twentieth century architectural historians traced the influences of the English Arts and Crafts movement in Germany, and saw the movement as culminating in the famous Bauhaus led by Walter Gropius. Pevsner thus wedded the history of major buildings to the broader history of design (as revealed in furniture, wall paper, textiles, ironwork, print making and painting). He described the Bauhaus in Germany as the culmination of “modern” movements in all the arts. Pevsner inspired many works on the history of design, and he also brought to the attention of architectural historians everywhere the importance of modern Germany in the development of modern architecture. Beautifully written and illustrated.

The Shingle Style and the Stick Style:
Architectural Theory and Design from Downing to the Origins of Wright
Vincent Scully

In this classic study, as in his earlier work of 1955 (The Shingle Style: Architectural Theory and Design from Richardson to the Origins of Wright), Scully modified the patterns of American architectural history writing to include the history of innovative wooden buildings (mostly residences) of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Scully identified a broad movement in American domestic architecture, one that stemmed from rustic and rural origins in American culture. He also traced the influence in the U. S. of important British architects such as Norman Shaw. Scully introduced into the mainstream of American architectural history writing a new canon of architects, men and firms like Bruce Price, Wilson Eyre, Peabody & Stearns, and McKim, Meade and White.

A History of Architecture:
Settings and Rituals
Spiro Kostof

For far too long, the history of architecture was regarded as the story of a few great masters, and their few great masterpieces. Kostof’s 1985 book signaled a broad change in writing about the history of architecture. Now, buildings were to be seen as embedded in their environments—in the streets and street patterns that surrounded them, and also in their intellectual, economic, religious and social contexts. Buildings, Kostof argued, were part of cities, so that the history of architecture must also include the history of urban form. The story of architecture also, Kostof said, reached beyond Western Europe and the United States to include most other areas of the world. A brilliant and unusually readable book that can be enjoyed by students, teachers at all levels, and casual readers.

Living Downtown:
The History of Residential Hotels in the United States
Paul Groth

If architectural history is to deal with residential design, then we need to know about all residential design, not just the design of free-standing houses for wealthy patrons. Living Downtown examines one collective version of residential architecture, the residential hotel, a frequent place to live for American urban dwellers in the nineteenth and early twentieth century, during a period of rapid urbanization. Groth discusses a wide range of types, from luxury hotels, used by wealthy families who still maintained homes in the country, all the way along the social spectrum to the boarding houses used by workers in urban enterprises. Groth brings to bear on this topic a strong knowledge of urban society and economics, while providing masterful analyses of the entire range of housing plans. The design of residential hotels, though such dwellings are out of favor now, offers many lessons for the urban housing of the future.

Second Suburb:
Levittown, Pennsylvania
Dianne Harris ed.

Between 1945 and about 1965, the American urban landscape was transformed by great swathes of new “tract houses”, built outside the old cities and containing radically new house designs. To the extent that Americans have known much about the architecture and planning of these suburbs, they have known the name of the Levitt Brothers, builders of “Levittowns” in New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania. But until very recently, even the Levitts have been remarkably neglected by serious scholars. In this path-breaking work on Levittown, Pennsylvania, the authors trace the history of design as manifested in street patterns, house types, house plans and furnishings, as well as social issues such as the sense of community among the occupants, and the town’s path toward racial integration. A good beginning to what I hope will be a new era in writing about American domestic architecture.

The Food Axis:
Cooking, Eating, and the Architecture of American Houses
Elizabeth C. Cromley

Cromley is a major writer about the typologies of American residential design—about the history of bedrooms, for example, and the history of apartment dwellings. In The Food Axis, she turns to cooking and eating, central functions of everyday life. But she finds that cooking and eating also depend, in their location and the designs that serve them, on the provision and storage of foodstuffs. Cromley deals with the whole of American history, an ambitious focus. The book is full of wonderful insights about the history of dining rooms, kitchens, and food storage areas. A must for those interested in the everyday functions of buildings.

Hitler at Home
Despina Stratigakos

Even though buildings are often products of a broad intellectual and social context, sometimes political power plays a dominant role in building design. This is most often the case in buildings designed for autocrats, for kings and dictators. Adolf Hitler had, it can be argued, absolute power in Germany from 1933 to 1945, and he commissioned many buildings. He was himself an architect manqué. There are a number of books that deal with Hitler’s building program in its entirely, but none until Hitler at Home deals with Hitler’s own residences. Drawing on many archives, including the papers of Gerdy Troost, an interior designer and the wife of Hitler’s first official architect, Stratigakos shows how Hitler’s preferences for his own dwellings blended a rather modern attitude to design with a rustic nostalgia and a kind of heavy abstemiousness, all qualities that he sought to display as indicative of his character as Leader of the Nazi state. A major work of scholarship.

Houses without Names:
Architectural Nomenclature and the Classification of America’s Common Houses
Thomas E. Hubka

Thomas Hubka shows us almost all of America’s typical house types, categorizes them, and explains how to read the plans from the exterior. American domestic architecture has been greatly neglected by architectural historians, except for those houses designed by “great architects” or designed for “great families”. Hubka’s book makes a giant step forward in our understanding our visual environment.

Looking Beyond the Icons:
Midcentury Architecture, Landscape, and Urbanism
Richard Longstreth

In this collection of persuasive writings, Richard Longstreth urges American architectural and urban historians to pay more attention to mid-century building and landscape design. New forms of shopping centers, new kinds of community buildings, new types of buildings for business, and above all, “extraordinary” new kinds of suburbs, are the focus of the author’s essays. The book represents an important shift of emphasis from “the icons”, that is, from the “masters of modern architecture” emphasis of many architectural historians, and from the focus on earlier periods by many historians of planning. Longstreth sees landscape as the “central defining component of post-World War II development.”

The Strait Gate:
Thresholds and Power in Western History
Daniel Jütte

Doors are the thresholds between public space and private or semi-private space. As such, they are sites of power: the power to admit or bar entry, the power to permit or prevent exit. According to Daniel Jütte, door-design has therefore accumulated strong symbolic meanings in every society. This erudite book focuses on the “early modern” period (c. 1400-1800), but it has broad implications for the architectural history of other periods in history and for non-Western societies. It inspires architectural historians to think more carefully about passageways—about buildings as penetrable from the street and streets as accessible from the surrounding buildings. The author plans a sequel on windows.

LaneBarbara Miller Lane is Andrew W. Mellon Professor Emeritus in the Humanities and Research Professor in Growth and Structure of Cities at Bryn Mawr College. Her books include Architecture and Politics in Germany, 1918–1945, National Romanticism and Modern ArchitectureHousing and Dwelling, and Houses for a New World.

Stanley Fish debates the eternal

This podcast on Stanley Fish’s panel discussion was originally posted by the Institute for Arts and Ideas

While the world turns we think ideas, right or wrong, are eternal. Yet meaning changes over time and context. Should we conclude that, like the material world, ideas are transient and knowledge and morality passing stories? Or is the eternal in our grasp after all? New York Times columnist and author of Think Again Stanley Fish, philosopher of language Barry C. Smith, and award-winning novelist Joanna Kavenna seek out the eternal.

Stanley Fish is the author of numerous books, including How to Write a Sentence, There’s No Such Thing as Free Speech, and Versions of Academic Freedom. He is the Davidson-Kahn Distinguished University Professor and Professor of Law at Florida International University and the Visiting Floersheimer Professor of Law at Cardozo Law School. He previously taught at Berkeley, Johns Hopkins, Duke, and the University of Illinois, Chicago. He is the author of Think Again: Contrarian Reflections on Life, Culture, Politics, Religion, Law, and Education.

Reiner Stach explores neglected period of Kafka’s life in crowning volume

The culmination of two decades of work, Reiner Stach’s three-part, masterful biography of Franz Kafka, one of the 20th century’s most fascinating and mysterious writers, is now complete. Kafka: The Early Years joins Kafka: The Decisive Years and Kafka: The Years of Insight, offering an unmatched account of how a boy who grew up in an old Central European monarchy helped create modern literature. The book makes use of previously untapped sources, including including family letters, schoolmates’ memoirs, and early diaries of Kafka’s close friend Max Brod.

High praise for the previous volumes from John Banville, New York Review of Books:

“This is one of the great literary biographies, to be set up there with, or perhaps placed on an even higher shelf than, Richard Ellmann’s James Joyce, George Painter’s Marcel Proust, and Leon Edel’s Henry James. . . . [A]n eerily immediate portrait of one of literature’s most enduring and enigmatic masters.”

Check out the trailer for the complete three-volume biography here:

Reiner Stach worked extensively on the definitive edition of Kafka’s collected works before embarking on his three-volume biography of the writer. Shelley Frisch’s translations of those volumes were awarded the Modern Language Association’s Aldo and Jeanne Scaglione Prize and the Helen and Kurt Wolff Translator’s Prize.

Natural disaster, experienced virtually

by Susan Scott Parrish

ParrishAs North Carolina towns like Goldsboro, Kinston, and Lumberton experience intense flooding long after Hurricane Matthew veered away from the coast, we are reminded again how disasters can take their own sluggish time. In the current case, it has taken days for intense rain water to move from inland streams to larger rivers, raising them to record heights.  “This is going to be a prolonged event,” announced North Carolina Governor Pat McCrory, after having signed an expedited Major Disaster Declaration for his beleaguered state.

My book, which is just about to be released with Princeton University Press, considers a different “prolonged event,” a “superflood” which took not three or four days to arrive, but rather months. The Flood Year 1927: A Cultural History is about the year-long disaster known colloquially as “The Great Mississippi Flood of 1927.” In a magnified version of the 2016 disaster, intense rains and snow fell for months throughout the upper branches of the river system, creating upstream flooding. Then these swollen tributaries all disgorged into the Lower Mississippi River simultaneously, evincing what one commentator at the time called a “sinister rhythm.”

If you have been following Hurricane Matthew and its path through Haiti, Florida and North Carolina, you understand that in the modern era, we experience most disasters virtually. I started thinking about this issue of virtual disaster consumption in the days surrounding, and months following, the New Orleans levee disaster of 2005 (“Katrina”). I began to wonder: how and why do disasters become publicly meaningful? Why do certain environmental catastrophes receive scant attention while others seem to place our national character on public trial? Is attention an unqualified good? How should we communicate with ourselves about disasters, especially now, in a time when human activity largely determines their makeup?

After much research, I came to realize that the first U.S. disaster to occur in a media landscape as well as in an industrialized, stress-bearing environment much like our own was the Mississippi Flood of 1927. The ways in which this flood went public, and then lost unified public meaning and indeed national attention, represent a fascinating case in modern disaster communication and consumption.

The 1927 flood was a humanly caused event. Deforestation, wetlands drainage, and monoculture farming throughout the Mississippi watershed in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century seriously reduced the storage capacity of its soil.  Moreover, designers of the flood protection system elected not to mimic an alluvial basin’s own mechanisms for holding and dispersing water in times of overflow. Engineers decided instead to impound the river within a towering levee system. Months of very intense rain and snowfall turned this precarious situation into catastrophe in the Lower Mississippi Valley as levees, and more levees, burst—one was even intentionally detonated to save the wealthy banking center and port of New Orleans. Over 600,000 people—mostly African American—were made homeless, land in seven states was inundated, thirteen major crevasses occurred, as many as 1,000 people died, and a year’s worth of cotton and sugar crops were ruined. The Red Cross was established, and the National Guard patrolled 154 “concentration camps” to house the evacuees but also to keep the Delta’s labor force in place.

Media technologies which produced this flood for a virtual audience were distinctly modern.  Wired telegraphy, aerial photography, recorded music, documentary film, a rapid and extensive AP service, and a brand new nationwide radio system were all put into use to transport this flood into homes in the US and around the world.  In the wake of World War I, moreover, governmental organizations knew how to use narrative and representational techniques to weld its citizenry into a unified mass. As communications theorist Harold Laswell put it in 1926, speaking of machine-age propaganda, “more can be won by illusion than by coercion.”

The flood of 1927 did seem to configure, at the flip of an all-powerful speaker switch, a coherent public audience.  FEMA did not yet exist and Congress refused to appropriate special funds, so the Red Cross had to commandeer the communications infrastructure of the nation to involve the public in the work and cost of relief. Newspapers, movie houses, vaudeville stages, and radio stations became vital pathways in a top-down, diffusive program of national coherence. It was not just any story though which made the “huge relief machine” hum, but a particular story about historical redemption. Because the course of the flood moved from north to south, retracing the 1863 river-borne assault on the Confederate strongholds of Mississippi and Louisiana, this flood had the peculiar power to make sixty-four-year-old history feel unfinished—to make it feel even biologically reenacted. When Herbert Hoover, the Commerce Secretary in charge of rescue and relief operations, first spoke to a national radio audience, he thus summoned memories of the Civil War. He imagined a new battle being waged between an invading “water enemy” and the people of “our South,” a “great army of unfortunate people.” Northern whites cast themselves this time around, in the words of The New York Times, as “an army of rescuers.” The Red Cross and its news outlets positioned this flood as a redemptive reenactment of the War between the States. This “illusion,” to use Laswell’s word, summoned national investment for about one month, and then public feeling split along regional and racial lines.

Sociologists at this time believed that disasters acted like helpful galvanic events to reset and repair a given society’s structural problems. The North’s disaster narrative, while it did symbolically bring accord, did nothing to actually address southern, and particularly, black southern, economic and political grievances.  White southerners came to express with great trenchancy their dissenting view that this calamity was neither natural nor redemptive, but was due to mainly northern environmental practices and the Federal government’s misguided levees-only policy. When they looked at the water destroying their crops, they saw Yankee water.

Advocates for southern black farm laborers likewise found old politics written all over the flood.  As conditions in the evacuee camps spelled for their black populations both forced labor and violently guarded movement, it seemed to many that slavery had returned to Dixie, and that northern institutions were abetting its reestablishment. W.E.B. Du Bois, Ida B. Wells, Walter White and others publicly decried this situation in The Crisis, The Chicago Defender, and The Nation.

Whites outside the South began to lose enthusiasm too for Hoover’s “reconstruction machine.” Valiant scenarios of rescuing southern brethren gave way to a regretful feeling that the South was forever an intractable “problem.” H.L. Mencken acerbically wondered why anyone would care about such a backward place of “tinpot revivals” and anti-intellectualism. And others just felt the story had grown dull. An editorial in The Nation averred that “people can stand only so much calamity. After a while it begins to pall, and finally it has no meaning whatever.” Another complained that the flood, lacking the dramatic unities of place and time, was aesthetically unsatisfying. And another observed that it is very hard to care for “a mud-besmattered mass of human beings” because only individual peril really moves an audience.

Once the flood slipped from the national headlines, it continued for some time to resonate in the black press and in the southern press. Eventually the event took up lodging in the imaginations, and the work of two of our major authors, who both happen to hail from Mississippi. Richard Wright and William Faulkner were young men living in or near the flood zone in 1927; each read Memphis’ paper, The Commercial Appeal, and its refutation of the dominant northern flood narrative. Wright was an avid reader of the black press coverage as well. For the next thirteen years, floods would seep into their fiction. While we tend to associate the Great War with modern narrative experimentation, for these two American authors, it was the 1927 flood which brought home the realization that the world was run on chance and risk, and, even more, that humans had made their physical and social worlds still more violently unpredictable.

In the 1920s, the Gulf South represented a leading edge of environmental peril. The region made manifest early what has since become more globally shared. Wright, Faulkner, and other attentive southern authors and performers of that day help us even now think about which stories, and which ways of bending language, comport most searchingly with the world of diffuse, chronic environmental risk in which we now live.

Susan Scott Parrish is a Professor in the Department of English and the Program in the Environment at the University of Michigan. Her book, The Flood Year 1927: A Cultural History, will be published this January.

Utopian Town Planning: Photos and Illustrations from City of Refuge

lewisVisions of Utopia obsessed the nineteenth-century mind, shaping art, literature, and especially town planning. In City of Refuge: Separatists and Utopian Town Planning, Michael Lewis takes readers across centuries and continents to show how Utopian town planning produced a distinctive type of settlement characterized by its square plan, collective ownership of properties, and communal dormitories. In honor of #Archtober, NYC’s month-long celebration of architecture and design, here is a sneak peek at select photographs and illustrations.

 

Michelle Komie on PUP’s Art & Architecture list and #Archtober 2016

Throughout October, PUP will be offering a nod to Archtober, NYC’s month-long celebration of architecture and design, with features on our blog and social media. Today, we have a special message from our Art & Architecture editor, Michelle Komie: 

Princeton University Press has been publishing in architectural, urban, and design history for decades, stretching back to such classic titles as Otto von Simson’s The Gothic Cathedral (1956), Nikolaus Pevsner’s History of Building Types (1976), and Neil Levine’s The Architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright (1996). I’m so happy to have the opportunity to reinvigorate this very distinguished list. Our recently published titles exemplify the highest quality of scholarship by some of the leading figures in the field. In honor of Archtober, I want to focus on a few new books that look at the importance of architecture and design in everyday life.

Bloom LasnerMatt Lasner’s and Nick Bloom’s Affordable Housing in New York looks at the innovative ways the city has helped its residents to live, from the 1920s through today. There will never be enough affordable housing, but New York has done more than almost any other city to try to meet the demand. This book brings the fascinating, complicated array of people, places, and debates to life.

Barbara Miller Lane looks at the unsung figures in American mid-century housing in Houses for a New World: the anonymous architect-builders responsible for the design and construction of the tract houses of America’s postwar suburbs. This is the story of the largest experiment in mass housing in American history, and of the ranch and bi-level houses that so many of us grew up in.Lane

Charles Waldheim’s Landscape as Urbanism looks at the history of the urban landscape projects that are helping to shape cities around the globe, ranging from Wright’s Broadacre City and Mies’s Lafayette Park (Detroit) to major projects around the globe by Adriaan Geuze/West 8, James Corner/Field Operations, and Michael Van Valkenburgh urbanismAssociates, among many others. It’s a compelling and important argument: landscape, more than buildings, has changed the way cities urbanize in the 21st century.

Despina Stratigakos’s Where are the Women Architects? is the first title in our new series with Places Journal, Places Books, and provides a provocative look at the history and future of Stratigakoswomen in the profession.

Next year is the 150th birthday of Frank Lloyd Wright, and MoMA is taking the opportunity to look again at his work and career with a major exhibition opening in June of 2017. Last year, we published Neil Levine’s superb The Urbanism of Frank Lloyd Wright, and we’ll be publishing Kathryn Smith’s Wright on Exhibit, the definitive history of Wright’s exhibitions, next spring.

LevineThere are many more outstanding titles to come in architecture, urbanism, and design over the next several years. I’m especially excited about a major new urban history of San Francisco by Alison Isenberg, and another on Brooklyn by Tom Campanella, to come in 2017 and 2018 respectively. Happy #Archtober, and happy reading in the meantime!

 

 

Michelle Komie
Executive Editor, Art & Architecture

Gods or Fighting Men?

Ireland's Immortals by Mark Williams“…the Dagda, with his overflowing cauldron, Lug, with his spear dipped in poppy juice lest it rush forth hot to battle, Aengus, with his three birds on his shoulder, Bodb and his red swineherd, and all the heroic children of Dana…”
—W. B. Yeats, “Rosa Alchemica”

The style of Yeats’s recitation will be immediately familiar to anyone who has read the myths and legends of Ireland, with their richly allusive lists of characters and the extraordinary deeds for which they are known. But what do we actually know of Tuatha Dé Danann (the Peoples of the goddess Danann), of the Sidhe, of the Fianna? And how were the Tuatha Dé understood by the pre-Christian Irish? As gods? Or as something different? The tales in which they appear come down to us in the form of manuscripts written centuries after the tales were first composed. Moreover, these manuscripts were made by monks, whose fervent Christian understanding of the world must surely have colored their view of these pagan figures. Some stories come to us in multiple, widely varying versions, or are frustratingly incomplete. Others must be inferred from entries in monastic glossaries, or from the dindshenchas, the traditional lore of Irish placenames.

In Ireland’s Immortals, Mark Williams describes the efforts of succeeding generations to frame and define the mythic figures of ancient Ireland. The monastic writers struggled to explain the superhuman feats of the Tuatha Dé and their frequent transformations of physical form without ascribing them some measure of divinity. The writers of the Celtic Revival brought their own agenda. Yeats’s fascination with ritual magic led him to attempt to found an Order of Celtic Mysteries (p.332), modeled on the hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, with figures such as Lug, Manannán and Brigit as the focus of its rituals. His friend and fellow poet and artist AE (George Russell) was one of several writers who instead saw them as aspects of the gods of Hindu mythology, under the influence of the Theosophical teachings of Madame Blavatsky. The Scottish writer William Sharp developed the fictional persona of Hebridean folklorist and revealer of mysteries Fiona Macleod to express his blend of pagan and Christian mysticism. So successful were Fiona Macleod’s dewy evocations of druids giving tribute to the ancient gods that she received extensive fan mail and even an offer of marriage. Sharp had his sister answer the letters for fear that his masculine handwriting might give the game away (p.372.)

In this ongoing process of reinterpretation and reframing, the errors, conjectures and creations of one generation became part of the corpus of accepted knowledge for the next. Manannán mac Lir is a well-attested figure in the myths and legends, usually associated with the sea. It must have seemed reasonable, given that “mac” means “son of” in Irish, to suppose the existence of a sea god, Lir, as his father and Lir starts to appear in manuscripts from the thirteenth century onwards. By the nineteenth century, AE was depicting Lir as no less than the primordial infinite from which the universe emerged. Yet the absence of Lir from the earliest sources strongly suggests that he is a back-formation who would have been unknown to the early Irish. To add to the confusion, an unrelated Lir appears in the story of the Children of Lir, in which a stepmother’s curse transforms King Lir’s four children into swans. The story is evidently of Christian origin as, after nine hundred years, it is the tolling of a church bell that finally returns the children to human form (terribly aged, they survive only long enough to receive baptism.) Yet some identify the two Lirs, exemplifying the confusion and contradictions that surround Ireland’s immortals. Mark Williams is a fascinating guide to their long life and presence in the literature and culture of Ireland.

An interview with Nancy Malkiel on the struggle for coeducation

MalkielAt the end of the 1960s, a change swept elite institutions in the United States and the United Kingdom: In a remarkably brief span of time, a large number of traditional, conservative, highly prestigious colleges and universities began admitting women. In her new book, Keep the Damned Women Out”: The Struggle for Coeducation, Princeton University professor Nancy Weiss Malkiel examines the historic shift, revealing that contrary to popular belief, the decision was less a moral response to female activists than a strategic one made largely by powerful men. Recently, Malkiel took the time to answer questions about her new book.

What led you to write a book about coeducation?

NM: It’s partly autobiographical. I had been a graduate student at Harvard in the mid-/late 1960s, when the relationship between Harvard and Radcliffe was beginning to be addressed. I joined the Princeton faculty in 1969 as one of the first three women in the professorial ranks; 1969 also happened to be the year when the first women undergraduates arrived. I served as dean of the college, with responsibility for undergraduate education at Princeton, for 24 years. At the same time, I graduated from and served as a trustee of Smith, a women’s college that decided not to go coed. I was very interested in how coeducation came to be embraced at Princeton and so many other elite men’s schools, in why Smith decided against coeducation, and in how women’s education worked in the institutions I knew best.

I was also very interested in processes of institutional change. How did very old, very traditional, very elite institutions decide to go coed? What factors influenced their decision-making? Who provided leadership? Who supported change? Who resisted change? How were competing interests adjudicated?

What made coeducation such a struggle?

NM: There was intense opposition to coeducation, mainly on the part of alumni who treasured their undergraduate experience and thought that admitting women would ruin the camaraderie, the special ambiance that had made all-male institutions so successful. The title of this book comes from a letter from one Ivy League alumnus who wrote, in opposing coeducation, “For God’s sake, for everyone’s sake, keep the damned women out.” Very often, coeducation was instituted over the very strong objections of these alumni. Many of these men later came to change their views when their daughters and granddaughters sought admission to their now-coeducational alma maters.

Your book focuses on decisions for coeducation in a very brief period of time – essentially, 1969-74. Why?

NM: There was a flood of decisions for coeducation in these years, both in the United States and in the United Kingdom. That’s when coeducation came to be instantiated at most of the very traditional, very conservative, very elite single-sex institutions on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. The decade of the 1960s bore on the timing: with the civil rights movement, the student movement, the antiwar movement, and the women’s movement, it was no wonder that colleges and universities began reconsidering many aspects of the educational arrangements that had served them for centuries.

What was the most surprising thing that you learned in the course of your research?

NM: Coeducation was not the product of organized efforts by women activists. Decisions for coeducation were made by powerful men (Mary Ingraham Bunting, the president of Radcliffe, is the sole exception here). And they were acting not on some moral imperative, not on a high-minded commitment to the education of women, but on straightforward self-interest: Coeducation was embraced as a means of shoring up applicant pools that were declining because many students no longer wanted to go to single-sex institutions.

How did you decide which colleges and universities to write about?

NM: In the United States, I focused on the men’s schools that were generally regarded as the influencers, the agenda-setters, the institutions that others looked to, modeled themselves on, and emulated – in other words, Princeton, Yale, Harvard, and Dartmouth. As for women’s colleges, Vassar was clearly the most prestigious women’s college that chose to admit men; I included Smith and Wellesley for comparative purposes because both of them had high-level reports in this same period that recommended coeducation, and both of them backed away from admitting men. In the United Kingdom, I wrote about the first three men’s colleges at Cambridge to admit women (in 1972) – Churchill, Clare, and King’s – and the first five at Oxford (in 1974) – Brasenose, Hertford, Jesus, St. Catherine’s, and Wadham.

It’s important to note that lots of other American institutions went coed in this period – men’s schools as well as women’s schools, colleges as well as universities. But the others were less influential, less precedent-making, than the elite institutions I focused on.

What were the biggest differences between coeducation in men’s colleges and coeducation in women’s colleges?

NM: When a men’s college coeducated, there was no question that it would attract a large number of highly qualified women applicants. When a women’s college coeducated, it was much less clear that there would be a sufficient pool of highly qualified male applicants.

Why did you want to compare American and British universities and colleges?

NM: A very similar phenomenon – the advent of coeducation at very old, very traditional, very elite institutions – was occurring on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. The movements of the 1960s affected colleges and universities in both countries. Colleges at Oxford and Cambridge were fully aware of what was happening in the United States, and there were some explicit connections between some of them and institutions like Princeton and Yale. There were also similarities in alumni resistance to coeducation. Heads of colleges at Oxford and Cambridge sought to assuage the concerns of their alumni by reminding them of the decision taken many decades earlier to remove the requirement of celibacy for fellows (faculty members) of the colleges – suggesting that coeducation, like married fellows, would soon come to be seen as perfectly normal.

Nancy Weiss Malkiel is a professor of history at Princeton University. From 1987 to 2011, she served as Dean of the College, overseeing the University’s undergraduate academic program, making her the longest serving dean. Malkiel’s current research centers on the decisions for coeducation at elite colleges and universities in the Unites States, as well as the United Kingdom, from 1969 to the mid 1970s. She is the author of  Whitney M. Young, Jr., and the Struggle for Civil Rights and Farewell to the Party of Lincoln: Black Politics in the Age of FDR (both Princeton). Her most recent book is “Keep the Damned Women Out”: The Struggle for Coeducation.

Banned Books Week: Remembering David Tod Roy & The Plum in the Golden Vase

Over the course of history and across cultures, books have been banned for various reasons: religious and political, sexual and social. From the Princeton University Press archives, perhaps none is more remarkable than The Plum in the Golden Vase or, Chin P’ing Mei. Equally remarkable is the book’s translator: Crowning nearly 50 years of scholarship, the late David Tod Roy published the fifth and final volume of his masterful translation of this ‘banned book’ in 2013, and I had the pleasure of working as his publicist. The culmination of this project marked the pinnacle of David’s career, one that too sadly coincided with his diagnosis with Lou Gehrig’s disease. In spite of his physical decline, David was wonderfully engaged and engaging during the months following the book’s publication, as interview requests poured in from The New York Times and beyond. He spoke thoughtfully about his lifelong love of Chinese literature, his adventurous youth as the child of Presbyterian missionaries in China, and what exactly led him to open up The Plum in the Golden Vase for the first time (Hint: it’s a pretty racy read).

Written anonymously, the late sixteenth-century novel that became Roy’s lifelong work is a jewel of Ming-era Chinese literature, presenting an impressively detailed picture of daily Chinese life. Famous for its unprecedented eroticism, the book was described by David Marche in the LA Review of Books as “Jane Austen meets hard-core pornography.” It will come as no surprise that the book was long banned, restricted to high officials in the Chinese government, had its erotic content edited out, or replaced with Latin. The interviews David Roy did about the book before his recent death, this one for the Tableau, touch on its history of censorship:

The Chin P’ing Mei has been banned by various Chinese governments ever since it first appeared, including that of Mao Zedong. Interestingly, Mao’s diary indicated that he was an avid fan of the novel and thought it was a profound work, but he didn’t want his citizens to read it. One edition was published under Mao’s aegis, but it was restricted only to upper levels of the Communist party.

Though the novel is about more than sex—it is also considered significant for its absence of mythical heroes, attention to female psychology, and depiction of everyday life—the level of eroticism in the book has been surprising even to modern day readers. On the occasion of the release of Roy’s translation, the New York Times wrote:

“When I taught it, my students were flabbergasted, even though they knew about the novel’s reputation,” said Patricia Sieber, a professor of Chinese literature at Ohio State University. “S-and-M, the use of unusual objects as sex toys, excessive use of aphrodisiacs, sex under all kinds of nefarious circumstances — you name it, it’s all there.”

The book’s pornographic reputation attracted a teenage Roy, but his translation, a three-decade project, reflects a lifelong fascination with Chinese literature and is celebrated today for its exhaustive research that includes 4,400 endnotes. Its publication in 2013 marked a major personal achievement for Roy and a historic publishing event for PUP. As for the book’s availability in modern China, Roy said:

Now the book is available, but it’s not always easy to obtain. Since Mao’s death there has been a flood of scholarship in Chinese on the Chin P’ing Mei; there is even a periodical on Chin P’ing Mei studies. I’ve drawn heavily on that material, but I’ve actually discovered quite a few sources that haven’t been identified yet by Chinese scholars.

You can read more about The Plum in the Golden Vase here, and more about the book’s illustrations on our design Tumblr.

A University of Chicago memorial service will be held for David Tod Roy in October.

Plum