Twentieth-century critics have opposed the supposed objectivity of the essay to the letter and diary as private, self-expressive, and autobiographical genres. But this was a modern development. From Michel de Montaigne to the early nineteenth century, the essay, the letter, and the diary were more alike and far more closely aligned than they later became, particularly with regard to representations of the self and notions of publicity. For instance, they were all considered forms of address, and means of presenting one’s intellectual physiognomy to others that were likely to be read aloud, shared, and discussed. This chapter therefore explores now-forgotten family resemblances among these genres both in form and function and concludes by showing where they were fused or embedded in one another.

This chapter traces queer and trans North American memoir through the long twentieth century by engaging the reality that for the majority of people in the majority of that period sexual identities did not adhere in a straight/gay binary and gender identities did not adhere in a cis/trans binary. To answer the challenge posed by this historical reality, this chapter proposes a theory of queer and trans memoir rooted in the racializing and classed gendering regimes and sexual arrangements of the period. This theory then guides the chapter through its engagement with the minoritized works of queer and trans memoir, skirting the white bourgeois gay male genealogy from Oscar Wilde to Edmund White that has too often been proffered as the geneology of LGBT literature.

This chapter examines the representation of illness and impairment in various works of fiction, poetry, and memoir to demonstrate the creative possibilities of disability. Where literary uses of disability have historically been thought to denote suffering, corruption, social failure, or inspirational and redemptive lessons aimed at non-disabled readers, recent scholarship has explored disability’s generative relation to structures of plot and to poetics as well as its epistemological effects, constituting new forms of knowledge. The chapter spotlights three texts that explicitly challenge tropes of deviance and lack and foreground bodymind anomalousness as the source of creative expression and knowing.

Touching down in a few of the many geographies of Black sound, this chapter pauses to listen in between the lines and forms of Black literary creation. Inclusive of readings of Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, Paul Beatty, Jesmyn Ward, and others, this chapter examines the penetrating collusions of the sonic and/as the literary in order to briefly mark their interreliance and to consider the conditions and futures of blackness as improvisational practice.

This chapter explores the post–World War II period in the United States, charting the postwar feminist essay in three directions: first, as a site of consciousness-raising during feminism’s second wave; second, as a space for feminist critiques of feminisms during the so-called third wave; and third, in its contemporary iteration in a revived consciousness-raising context: the #MeToo essay. The chapter draws together formally and contextually diverse texts into a longer conversation about how the essay can be read as a politicized and politicizing literary form. These texts include nonfiction subgenres often thought to be subordinate to the essay: an article, a collectively authored set of papers, a prose poem, a memoir, and a victim impact statement. The chapter argues that what makes these texts “feminist” and “essays” – despite significant formal differences – is their shared engagement with critical, documentary, and experiential literary modes and their stakes in connecting the individual to politically invested collectives, past and future. These five essays explicitly address gender and contingent forces of oppression that both bond and trouble emancipatory collectives.

This chapter considers changing representations of the First World War on stage after the Second World War and through to the centenary. It examines the significance of Oh What a Lovely War (1963) as a product of the Cold War and fears over a third world, and nuclear, war. Emphasising the importance of understanding theatrical representations of the war in relation to their socio-political contexts, the chapter shows how the changing political context of the 1990s and anxieties over the loss of memory led to shifts in how the war was represented on stage, with Lovely War increasingly being used to ‘teach’ the war. The chapter argues that twenty-first century plays including Morpurgo’s War Horse and Private Peaceful, and Faulks’s Birdsong, are driven by an imperative to remember the war and fill a gap left by the loss of direct memory and experience of the war. It shows how this leads to the privileging of the personal, individual, micro experience of the war over the macro history of the war. It addresses the tension between history and memory in these plays as well as demonstrating their role in shaping commemoration during the centenary.

The history of comics and graphic novels often coincides with a history of marginalization of women and misogynistic stereotypes. Conversely, this chapter examines the representation of women by women in graphic novels, with a particular focus on women’s lives. It recalls the early efforts of women cartoonists within the underground comix of the 1960s and 1970s, such as Aline Kominsky-Crumb, Phoebe Gloeckner, and Julie Doucet, who produced different representations of femininity and sexuality than their male counterparts. It considers the contributions of seminal graphic memoirs by Marjane Satrapi and Alison Bechdel, which blended stories of personal awakening with a political context and message, offering new templates for future works. It also highlights the recurrence of the theme of childhood trauma in autobiographical works by women authors, such as Lynda Barry’s One Hundred Demons (2002), as well as the depiction of unequal work, career, household, and parenting demands placed on women. Finally, it reflects on the manner in which graphic novels by women authors may portray women’s experiences such as motherhood, abortion, and menopause, and considers graphic works that expand the notion of women’s discourse beyond binary identities.

This chapter examines life writing in comics through the influential zine King-Cat Comics and Stories, created and independently self-published by John Porcellino since 1989. The various forms of expression employed in King-Cat generate a kind of unmediated directness between Porcellino and the reader, where the mode of address, tone, and style is constantly modulating. King-Cat is a form of life writing that uses the zine format and, in this case, comics featured within the zine, to foreground its aporetic nature. Constantly making the reader switch gears between different kinds of information in different forms, King-Cat makes the aporetic experience almost second nature for the reader. The intra- and intertextual dynamics created by Porcellino’s life writing practice implicate the reader in an animistic medium of uncertainty, where what the text “asks” of the reader shifts in register even in sections of the same page. This kind of reading process challenges traditional linear notions of time and suspends the location of identity within a text, thus suggesting a dynamic communal vision for life writing and, perhaps, for viewing life itself.

Transients created what was arguably the first counterculture in the modern United States, known as ‘hobohemia’. This Introduction argues that hobohemia was a literary subculture, the fruits of which included fiction, poetry, autobiography, sociology, journalism, and popular music, including works produced by women and African-Americans. The material examined by this book, much of which has been forgotten or neglected, demonstrates that hobos were not the all-American, white, straight, male hyper-individualists that they have been seen as by much twentieth-century popular history. As well as laying out the argument and structure of the book, the Introduction argues that Hobohemia was a subculture that privileged storytelling, and that the popular genre of hobo memoir emphasises drift as a key aspect of the transient experience.

Chapter 3, Figures of Risk: Memoirs of a Chinese South African and a Cameroonian in China, features two memoirs of diaspora – from a South African of Chinese descent and a Cameroonian student in the PRC. Both represent the vicissitudes of diasporic mobility in Africa–China relations. They conceptualize mobility through the complex interplay between racial identity, government bureaucracy, threat of imprisonment, personal risk, and economic gain. This chapter shifts the focus to figures of risk, embodied by the gambler and the trickster. As memoirs, these narratives foreground how an individual positions their cultural identity (Hall), complicating and even subverting the official narratives of Africa–China relations through an explicit claim to lived experience. By focusing on these autobiographical writings, I expand the concept of the alluvial to mean the accretions and erosions of everyday life, whether material or metaphysical, acquired through interactions with Others. The texts exemplify cultural creolizations that play (or gamble) with the alluvium of diasporic experience.

George Moore spent a large portion of his career writing joyously and explicitly about sex. Sex meant everything to Moore, and he occasionally mused that it was a ‘fluid’ or ‘rhythm’ that connected and vitalized all things in the world. But at the end of his three-volume autobiography Hail and Farewell (1911–14) he not only declared the onset of age-related sexual impotence, but also claimed that it was this that was finally going to make him a great artist. His newly imposed continence was going to make him intellectually and artistically strong and would give him the authority and charisma of a prophet. He had said similar things elsewhere, and his descriptions of the dangers of excessive sexuality closely follow those of Victorian medical texts. This chapter teases out this line of thinking in Moore’s writing about art and artists, and particularly his connection of this potently continent art with Walter Pater. The chapter shows how different sexual ideas can exist side by side in the work of a single person or even a single text, and how productive continence can often be found in surprising places.

Chapter 1 outlines the growth of military writing in Britain during the Romantic period. It does so by situating this growth in relation to the extensive expansion of print of the late eighteenth century, in particular the expansion of periodical writing. Seeking to develop an intellectual culture out of the increasingly daily experience of wartime, the military journals played a foundational role in the formation of a new kind of deep but narrow field of military disciplinary knowledge. The appearance of military journals reflects how knowledge in this era was undergoing what Michel Foucault terms a process of ‘disciplinarization’, as the localised and fragmentary forms of earlier technical knowledges were variously disqualified or else centralised, normalised and hierarchicised into a set of modern disciplinary fields that formed the basis of modern science. This chapter also considers, however, how this disciplinarization of military knowledge gave rise to counter-histories of war’s sublime shock and brute force. Addressing the subjective side of disciplinarity, the formation of self-writing and what Ian Hacking has theorised as memoro-politics, this chapter concludes by placing literature and science as twinned elements forming the disciplinary knowledge of war.

Who knew that twenty-two years ago when I began this musical journey that I was making a political statement by just being myself, an eighteen-year-old Black girl from St. Louis, Missouri? In the epilogue, I recount my career thus far in Country music – the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. My journey from Eureka, Missouri, to songwriter’s nights in Nashville to a record deal and all the misadventures along the way. In telling my story, I examine the disparities that exist for women and Black, Indigenous, and artists of color in the country music industry and propose ideas for how to bridge and fill the gaps.

It has long been a puzzle to reconcile two well-known facts: first that the Economic Consequences became the received version on the left for a contemptuous view of Lloyd George; second, that Keynes came to cooperate so closely with Lloyd George in seeking to revive the Liberal party in the 1920s. Their own relationship had begun during the First World War, when Keynes was first drawn into advising the Treasury on key policy issues from 1914. It was in these years that Keynes benefited from the sponsorship of Edwin Montagu, a key minister in the Liberal government. This chapter shows how much Lloyd George’s initial hostility to Keynes on economic policy was the product of a cultural clash between them; also how this came to be resolved (at least temporarily) when Keynes picked up economic insights from Lloyd George’s untutored intuitions. And the chapter draws on the memoir ‘Dr Melchior’, composed by Keynes for his Bloomsbury friends, to illustrate the way that – almost against his own prejudices – he became captivated by Lloyd George’s intuitive mastery of the political process.

This chapter argues that generic distinctions between the essay and the novel have historically been difficult to preserve, with many of the supposedly identifying features of each genre applying in practice to the other. The author surveys work by writers including Milan Kundera, Robert Musil, Zadie Smith, and Virginia Woolf.

This chapter argues that the personal essay came into being at the beginning of the twentieth century, evolving from the familiar essay favored by writers such as Charles Lamb and Virginia Woolf. Prior to the twentieth century, the essay as a form was assumed to be personal but only in a deliberately circumlocutory manner. But the pressure to constitute a stable self brought to bear by academic and other institutions gave rise to a new conception of the personal essay, and to confession more generally, as a vehicle of “spectacular personhood.”

This chapter traces multiple genealogies for the contemporary “lyric essay,” from the American memoir boom of the 1990s to the experimental writings of language poets, practitioners of postcolonial and Black diasporic thought such as Édouard Glissant and M. NourbeSe Philip, and writers who combine lyric and essayistic writing such as Claudia Rankine and Bhanu Khapil.

Assessing the relationships between Johnson’s attitudes toward history and historical writing and British historiographical conditions during the first half of the eighteenth century can offer useful perspectives on his sometimes contradictory views. For Johnson, many of the problems in contemporary British historiography, ranging from the ubiquity of inadequate compilations to the strikingly overt politicization of all historical writing at the time, involved questions of authorial control. To enlarge the truncated narratives and expand the scope of the kinds of histories Johnson saw being written by his contemporaries, he turned to forms of social and cultural history, along with parahistorical genres such as memoir and biography, in order to engage the increased readership for historical writing during the period. Although Johnson’s thought characteristically generalizes, his negativity about historical writing can often be understood in more specific terms, as reactions to the contemporary situation in British historiography.