This chapter focuses on the romance of Apollonius of Tyre, a late antique text that is perhaps the successor of a lost Hellenistic original. At the very outset of that work—whose Nachleben extends from a fragmentary eleventh-century Old English translation, through Gower’s Confessio Amantis, to the Shakespearean Pericles, Prince of Tyre—circumlocution of the incestuous rape that sets the plot in motion structures the entire narrative around a double bind of desire that cannot be named but is signified in the silences that continually call the reader’s attention to it. Preterition is both repeatedly performed by the characters themselves and governs the entire work as a kind of master narratological trope, akin to the unconscious logic of dreams as understood by Freud and Lacan.

In his theory of the family, Pufendorf treats it as a complex society composed of three simple societies or associations: those between husband and wife (matrimony), parents and children (paternal society), and master and servant, or slave (societas herilis), which are united under the domestic rule of the paterfamilias, or head of the family. Given that Pufendorf holds all human beings – women no less than men – to be naturally equal in virtue of their humanity, that is, the common moral status that they acquire through their subjection to the law of nature, the question arises as to how he justifies authority in the private realm of the family: how does his patriarchal account of marriage, and his justification of servitude, or slavery, fit with the egalitarian premise of his natural law theory? In focusing on the role of pacts and consent in the founding of the various modes of domination within the family, the chapter highlights Pufendorf’s critical attitude to traditional justifications of authority, but also indicates the limits of the egalitarian premise of his natural law theory. The chapter ends with a comparison between the rule of the head of the family and supreme sovereignty in the state.

Chapter Five turns to the Harlem Renaissance author and illustrator Richard Bruce Nugent, arguing that his “Geisha Man,” which centers on the erotic relationship between a white American father and his mixed-race child, should be understood as emerging from his sustained engagement with Decadence and the Salome story. I position this work within the framework of Nugent’s extensive experimentation with Decadence to argue that the text’s Orientalism and its preoccupation with incest should be understood as more than a simple echoing of Decadence’s more troubling tendencies. This content operates within the text in service to Nugent’s efforts to conceptualize mixed-race identity and the rupturing of Black kinship structures within the United States. Salome is for Nugent a story about a fetishized performer attempting to enact erotic agency within a system of fractured familial formations, and revising her story allows Nugent to theorize kinship and multiraciality in relationship to what Hortense Spillers refers to as the “losses” and “confusions” that accompanied the “dispersal of the historic African American domestic unit.” This chapter sheds light on the manner in which Orientalist Decadence was transported across the Atlantic to perform different types of service for Black thinkers in Harlem in the early-twentieth century.

Chapter Six considers the modernist sculptor Eric Gill’s highly unconventional family life, his interest in Indian art, and his connections with Decadent queer Catholicism in relationship to his preoccupation with the family as a site of divine eroticism. While Gill is often thought of as a “distinctly heterosexual” figure with a highly provincial vision, during the 1910s he affiliated himself with a authors and artists, including Katharine Bradley and Edith Cooper (“Michael Field”), whose nonnormative sexual identities were intertwined with their Catholic religious identity, and he exhibited a thirst for information about global artistic practices, writing frequently to the Ceylonese art historian Ananda Coomaraswamy and engaging extensively with Indian art. He found in Bradley and Cooper, who converted to Catholicism and wrote religious verse concerning their union, a model for conceiving of incestuous desire in divine terms. In his correspondence with Coomaraswamy concerning the treatment of eroticism in Hindu temple sculpture, he found models for the successful integration of faith and sensuality. This network of influences resulted in one of his most well-known works, They (or Ecstasy, 1910-11), an attempt to hallow incestuous desire and transform an extreme form of sexual dissidence into an expression of divine love.

The central chapters of this book focus on the development and growth of insular origin legends over time by studying a key subset of themes that came to take on particular significance within this corpus. Tracing the expansion and increasing centrality of these themes over time allows us to witness the influence that individual texts within the corpus of material containing early insular origin legends had on the development of these legends themselves. Chapter Four focuses on intermarriage and incest, first tracing medieval understanding of these concepts in biblical tradition before examining contemporary evidence for intermarriage and incest in early medieval legal and historical texts. Origin legends expanded further to envision what might have happened after a foundational ancestor who emigrated alone or with a small band of followers arrived to the insular region. Women were necessary in order to preserve the population, and there were really only two solutions to the problem: intermarriage or incest. This chapter examines each of these motifs in turn, studying how they were introduced into insular origin legends and expanded to create different narrative possibilities for political commentary as the corpus grew.

This chapter describes how the duty on States to respect and protect the right to life applies to terminations of pregnancy. Worldwide, tens of millions of abortions are said to take place each year. There is no general right of a pregnant woman to an abortion under customary international law, even within a minimal number of weeks. Nor, however, is there any rule generally prohibiting abortion.

After Michel Foucault’s groundbreaking work on the history of madness in Madness and Civilization (trans. 1965), what may be viewed as a new field of literary criticism arose: studies that explore literary representations of insanity. With a focus on critical studies about British literature and medicine of the long eighteenth century, this chapter will demonstrate the range of work that has shaped this field, draw special attention to those studies that investigate the phenomenon of physicians who were also literary writers, and interrogate the ethical implications that arise when doctors contribute to the belles-lettres. With respect to this final point, the negative implications of this practice become clear in consideration of its triangulated relationship with two other increasingly important developments in Romantic-era medicine and literature: the development of psychology as a medical specialty and the popularity of the case history. This chapter interrogates the ethics of physicians’ literary use of patient information to suggest that this singular moment in literary history presented the potential for a uniquely predatory relationship between the creative writer and the often real-life subject about whom he wrote. The case of John Polidori, Lord Byron’s doctor during the 1816 summer of the Villa Diodati, and author of The Vampyre (1819) and Ernestus Berchtold (1819), poses such challenging questions about the ethical responsibilities of the physician-cum-literary writer.

Chapter 5 attends to the notions of siblinghood between female friends or lovers of the same age group. Drawing on the idealized closeness and harmony afforded to uterine sisters, especially among the matrilenal Akan, a same-sex lover can be invoked as a sibling in order to front a non-sexual connection. Among insiders however, claims to being “of the same blood” signal emotional and sexual attachments. Thereby everyday practices such as bathing, washing, and eating together over extended periods of time emerge as the crucial markers of these familial intimacies. Conversely, it examines the spectre of incest that lingers among same-sex lovers who do share lineage ties and are thus both metaphorically and genealogically related. The chapter argues that female friends who raise children together, take care of each other’s elders, and build joint networks that include male husbands and relatives, do much of the work afforded to (queer) families.

Though attitudes towards sexual violence shift and change over time and place, across the past two hundred years child sexual abuse has predominantly been viewed as a heinous crime. Nonetheless, there were many variations on what constituted sexual assault, and how this was understood in the community. An act that might be a heinous crime in one time period or one region may be legally and socially acceptable in another. This chapter will chart a range of attitudes and responses towards child sexual abuse. It argues that children have long been seen as vulnerable to sexual assault, which was understood as morally problematic and often a criminal offence. Yet despite significant social and legal change, state and community practices have failed to solve the problem of vulnerable children, and sexual assault of minors continues to be an issue across the globe.

Over the years, through my research on sexual violence, it becomes clearer that these problems of disparate sentencing, lenient sentences for some rapists, the stigmatization of female and transgendered victims, and the punishment of women – both as victims and perpetrators – occupy a global space not confined to the United States. That is, judges globally are making poor decisions regarding rape and incest.

Critics have tended to dismiss Wharton’s depictions of children as victims of their parents’ misbehavior (Paul Marvell of The Custom of the Country) to optimistic symbols of the future (Nettie Struther’s baby in The House of Mirth), failing to take into account the complexity of children as characters. In fact, Wharton’s novels are populated with children – typically girls – marked by suggestions of gender queerness; transgression, seduction, and aggression; age-impropriety; and ethnic ambiguity. From “The Valley of Childish Things” (1896) to “A Little Girl’s New York” (1938), Wharton emphasizes the absence of childhood innocence and the resistance of children to linear development. Wharton’s children are rarely innocent, frequently knowing, and resistant to narratives of linear development. Concentrating on the novels The Reef (1912) and The Children (1928), and touching on other works by Wharton, I demonstrate how this theme flows throughout the author’s corpus.

Faulkner’s tragic masterpiece is, in essence, a novel of encounter, one in which different, even irreconcilable worlds collide most explicitly through their opposed understanding of race. New Orleans, in this novel, represents the radically cosmopolitan, a loose and ever-changing mix of Spain and France, Virginia and Kentucky, Haiti and Cuba, as well as many ethnicities and nationalities of Africa. In contrast, the world of Mississippi is organized according to the brutal simplicity of only two kinds of people: white masters and black slaves. Out of this conflict between New Orleans and Mississippi, Faulkner showcases the potential of New Orleans to lead the United States toward a progressive racial politics.