J19-The Journal of Nineteenth-Century Americanists最新文献

{"title":"Response to Letters","authors":"Leslie Leonard","doi":"10.1353/jnc.2023.a909294","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jnc.2023.a909294","url":null,"abstract":"Response to Letters Leslie Leonard (bio) I am thankful once more to the editors of J19 for allowing me to continue the scholarly conversation surrounding Frederick Douglass's recently published \"Slavery,\" and I am doubly thankful to Koritha Mitchell, Kelvin C. Black, and Jewon Woo for their responses to the piece. As I read them, I was struck by just how expertly each thinker presented sometimes wholly conflicting views such that I cannot say I disagree with any of them. Scholars of Douglass will know that his work is a haven for such contradictions; it is fitting, then, that \"Slavery\" and its discussion are no different. Most immediately, I am interested in the ethical issues of archive work that Mitchell deftly raises. With \"Slavery\" in particular—unfinished, unpublished, marked with (what I, maybe wrongfully, imagine) is a deep mournfulness at the state of things at the end of Douglass's life—I recognize the \"violation\" that Mitchell names. Douglass was, in so many ways, a public figure, which I suppose allows us to imagine that he was the public's figure—a collection of writings rather than a man whose permission we might require. Mitchell's nuanced understanding that this violation is both a feature and a bug of archival work strikes me as particularly relevant with Douglass's piece. To what degree do scholars wrongfully lay claim to pieces that were never intended to be shared—letters, diary entries, private and unfinished works? And how might archival work be in its own way a form of violence against those who cannot consent to the narrative we build out of these once-private writings? Although I often agree with Douglass's own declaration that \"we have to do with the [End Page 33] past only as we can make it useful to the present and the future,\" there is something unmistakably selfish in the desire to share what isn't ours. Interestingly, Woo's response to the essay views its publication in an opposite light, as a progressive part of recovering and rediscovering Black writing to adjust a white-centered archival canon. Woo names \"Slavery\" as a piece as recovery—giving space to long-buried ideas. I find both perspectives to be true, and I remain conflicted as to whether I should feel pride or shame at giving the world yet another piece of Douglass. I imagine there is so little of him left that has not been given away by an extractive academy. Nonetheless, Mitchell's, Woo's, and Black's responses demonstrate that \"Slavery\" continues to be a radically relevant text for our own cultural moment. As Mitchell writes, the piece is a powerful reminder of something too easily (and willfully) forgotten; that it is \"proactive struggle\" (not decency) that engenders \"anything approaching justice.\" Similarly, Woo notes that Douglass's essay refuses and refutes imagined ideas of progress and instead argues for another, more engaged understanding of history, one that requires constant action and resistance from readers. Black also expertly demonstrates th","PeriodicalId":41876,"journal":{"name":"J19-The Journal of Nineteenth-Century Americanists","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-03-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135532197","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"The \"Wisdom of the Hour\" Willed to Black Americans in Douglass's \"Slavery\"","authors":"Kelvin C. Black","doi":"10.1353/jnc.2023.a909292","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jnc.2023.a909292","url":null,"abstract":"The \"Wisdom of the Hour\" Willed to Black Americans in Douglass's \"Slavery\" Kelvin C. Black (bio) As Leslie Leonard notes in her introduction, our understanding of Frederick Douglass's \"Slavery,\" unpublished till now, profits from being placed in conversation with his contemporaneous speech \"Lessons of the Hour\" (1894).1 One of the most striking points of connection between these two late-life works is Douglass's apparent resumption of a position he held briefly prior to his famous change of opinion in 1851 on the proslavery character of the Constitution. Namely, Douglass appears to take back up in \"Slavery\" the position he espoused in 1849 that the American people lacked the \"moral power\" to reform the institutional and interpersonal life of the nation in ways that would defend against Black subjugation.2 His career after his change of opinion up to \"Lessons of the Hour\" and \"Slavery,\" a period of approximately forty-three years, is marked by his belief that the \"noble purposes of the preamble\"3 reflect the true character not only of the Constitution but also of the \"People of the United States\" who formed it.4 However, in \"Lessons of the Hour\" Douglass states that the disenfranchisement of Black Americans in the wake of Reconstruction \"has shaken my faith in the nobility of the nation.\"5 This admission is striking given that his career following his change of opinion seems to have been rooted in the strategic, and perhaps even good faith, calculation that the moral power of white Americans could be increased and then directed in the service of Black American liberation and social equality. Douglass seemed to believe that such a thing was possible both by affirming the pervasive sense among white Americans that the nation's historical foundations and cultural touchstones were virtuous and then [End Page 25] by instructing them how to view that foundational virtue to be fundamentally at odds with Black enslavement and social inequality.6 Remarkably, Douglass's \"Slavery\" appears to do away with this long-held calculation to increase the moral power of white Americans, in favor instead of a new one that seeks to fortify the moral power or \"character\" of Black Americans to \"bear and forebear\" their subjugation.7 Conspicuously absent from Douglass's essay is his familiar defense of the foundational virtue of the nation's ideals, as articulated in the Declaration of Independence and in the Constitution. Instead, he now contends that \"[submission to slavery] implies the possession of those strong elements of character upon which the best institutions of mankind are predicted and permanent-ly founded.\"8 Statements like this one and others throughout the essay hold out the tantalizing possibility that the Black American experience of subjugation might provide better foundational virtues than the ones that allowed the American institution of slavery to stand. This call to \"remagin[e] the world,\" as Leonard describes, \"through a fresh set of ideals and ethi","PeriodicalId":41876,"journal":{"name":"J19-The Journal of Nineteenth-Century Americanists","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-03-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135532180","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"The Mixed Pleasures of Geek Love","authors":"Anna Mae Duane","doi":"10.1353/jnc.2023.a909290","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jnc.2023.a909290","url":null,"abstract":"The Mixed Pleasures of Geek Love Anna Mae Duane (bio) This past summer, I had the great pleasure of sitting around a campfire with friends discussing sentimentalism's coercive power over us. As nineteenth-century scholars, we were all well versed in how images of children have been deployed to evoke both tears and donations. Yet we all admitted to crying at sappy plane movies, at fundraising appeals, and at manipulative Hallmark commercials. As students of the era, we shouldn't be surprised by how fully the nineteenth century is still with us, pulling on tender heartstrings we thought we had fortified by years of critical thinking. We were all familiar with Adam Smith's discussion of the sentimental as our capacity to imagine that we are feeling the pain of another, and everyone at that summer gathering knew quite well that we were not really accessing the emotions on display, that the pain or joy we had witnessed on screen were old scripts designed to hack into our sympathies.1 Yet, no matter what our brains tell us, the tears still come, betraying how susceptible our emotional chords are to manipulation. I thought of that campfire conversation when I first sat down to write about how Katherine Dunn's 1989 novel Geek Love pulls visceral reactions out of the reader, revealing how powerfully our hearts are entangled with cultural stories we thought we had left behind. And in truth, when I began this article, I thought it was going to be a story about the great pleasure of repeatedly teaching this book. Year after year, student discussions of this text move from shock at the novel's blasphemous portrait of the American family to a dawning respect for the author's skill, to a begrudging, almost involuntary, love of the book's problematic characters. I've never found another text that quite does [End Page 11] what Geek Love pulls off. Of course, as Peter Coviello argued so beautifully in the first installment of this feature, the \"pleasure of 'pleasure reading,' after all, isn't simple. Often it is made up of an unstable compound of fascination, resistance, captivation, disquiet, dislike.\"2 In other words, we take pleasure in what books pull out of us, often without our conscious consent. And that's why, once I finished the first draft of this essay, I knew I had been telling only half the truth about the pleasure I've taken from this complicated, irreverent novel. Like the tears that spring up, unbidden, shame-tinged, at a sappy commercial depicting familial bliss, the reactions Geek Love elicits reveal how vulnerable we are to the seductions of domesticity, selling us love in ten easy steps. One of the reasons I find myself happily reassigning this book stems from the decidedly mixed pleasure of recognizing, again and again, the depth of my own investments in the sort of parental martyrdom that generates both the shock and the recoil at the center of Geek Love. But let's start with my students. In my class on disability studies—the class in which I","PeriodicalId":41876,"journal":{"name":"J19-The Journal of Nineteenth-Century Americanists","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-03-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135532182","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"On Moving and Movement","authors":"Sarah E. Chinn, Brigitte Fielder","doi":"10.1353/jnc.2023.a910144","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jnc.2023.a910144","url":null,"abstract":"On Moving and Movement Sarah E. Chinn, Editor and Brigitte Fielder, Editor On the cover of the 11.1 issue, you’ll see a plan of the city of Baltimore from 1822. This hand-colored map was commissioned by the city, and it shows the deliberately demarcated grid, including street names and boundaries of the city’s twelve wards. The bottom of the map shows the north, middle, and main branches of the Patapsco River, which flows into Chesapeake Bay. The larger map features a key of references to the city’s various institutions: churches, markets, banks, factories, and educational institutions, as well as the location of a courthouse, prison, penitentiary, and government offices, as well as a theater, museum, and type foundry. The map includes a separate list of its fifteen fire and hose companies, along with dates of their founding. This nineteenth-century representation of the city gives us an idea of its geography as well as its institutions and infrastructure. Baltimore is the home of Johns Hopkins University, another nineteenth- century institution, founded in 1876. Two years later, the university established Johns Hopkins University Press, now the oldest continually operating university press in the United States. Click for larger view View full resolution Plan of the city of Baltimore, 1822. Library of Congress. As J19 moves its home to JHUP with this issue, we wanted to recognize this move by attending to the physical spaces in which our institutions and their corresponding infrastructures reside. When our organization holds an in-person conference, we are reminded very distinctly of the specificities of place, as issues of proximity and access govern our experiences. When we’ve attended virtual events, we get a glimpse into our individual locations, sometimes all at once, juxta- posed in grid-like fashion that often obscures these distinctions of geography, institution, and even time zone. Like nineteenth-century readers, we also inhabit a shared reading landscape, via our organization’s journal. Brought together, as we are, by print and digital publications like this one, our conversations traverse space and even time. Seldom, it seems, do we think about the physical location of print or digital production. And the institutional location of a journal may register more keenly when we renew membership on an online point-of-sale site than when the volume arrives or the PDF file is accessed. The map of Baltimore does not, of course, present the whole picture of the city. Within these physical spaces and their various institu tions and supporting structures were people. While the map shows dozens (hundreds?) of rectangles representing the city’s buildings, whether residences or businesses, it does not give a clear image of the city’s inhabitants. The map’s Table of Population gives a figure of over 62,700 people by 1820. But much is obscured by this scale of counting and this representation of space. The city was built on the unceded lands of the Pi","PeriodicalId":41876,"journal":{"name":"J19-The Journal of Nineteenth-Century Americanists","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-03-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135532512","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"The Painter's Dream: Written for the Evening Gazette","authors":"Louisa M. Alcott","doi":"10.1353/jnc.2023.a909301","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jnc.2023.a909301","url":null,"abstract":"The Painter's Dream1Written for the Evening Gazette Louisa M. Alcott In this story Alcott rewrites, and significantly expands, her first published work of fiction \"The Rival Painters: A Tale of Rome.\" One notices two main differences that result from the additions here. First, in a general sense, the story spends more time on the development of the artist, rather than the dramatic episode of rivalry. Second, the artist's mother becomes even more of a primary focus. As Monika Elbert writes of the prior story, \"The Rival Painters,\" the \"maternal image is endowed with almost magical powers; this cautionary tale seems to suggest that greatness comes to those who obey and revere their mothers.\"2 But in this version, Alcott adds yet more maternal magic: a long introductory section in which the mother convinces a customer to help her son start on his career—the mother as not just figure but precipitating force—and Alcott adds the titular, phantasmic dream sequence at the story's end. If one might further propose to read the story as an autobiographical kunstlerroman, then it is nothing if not a direct homage and honoring of Alcott's own mother's support for her career. [End Page 187] Click for larger view View full resolution The first page of \"The Painter's Dream.\" Image courtesy of the Microtext Collection, Boston Public Library. ________ Moonlight was shining over Florence and midnight silence brooded there unbroken, save by the low murmur of the Arno,3 as it glided to the sea, singing a pleasant lullaby to the lazzaroni, dreaming on the bare stones, as peacefully as if in palaces. But though sleep seemed reigning there, from the window of a poor dwelling just without the city a light shone steadily hour after hour. The room within was dark and low, but peopled with imaginary forms of purest beauty, by the busy brain of the pale faced boy who sat there, with a rude brush and palette in his hand, toiling secretly by night to body forth the images that haunted him by day, and robbed him of his needful rest. [End Page 188] Heart and soul were in the work, and, chime after chime fell unheeded on his ear; but all his labor seemed in vain, for still the unskilful hand and poor materials, mocked his efforts to give life and color to the form so beautiful in fancy; and at length with an exclamation of bitter disappointment he flung his brush away, and dropping his head upon his arms, wept with boyish passion and abandon. A figure, that had stood unseen in the shadow of a distant doorway, now came out into the light, and a woman still beautiful though no longer young, stole to his side, and putting her arms about him said tenderly, as she caressed with motherly pride the handsome head upon her bosom, \"Dear child, why did you seek to hide this from me? Did you think a mother's eye was blind to your pale cheek, and the growing sadness that has changed my light hearted boy into a silent dreamy youth? Forgive me that I have learned your secret against your will, ","PeriodicalId":41876,"journal":{"name":"J19-The Journal of Nineteenth-Century Americanists","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-03-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135532177","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Epistolary Estrangement: Mission, Marriage, and Missives in the Cherokee Nation","authors":"Theresa Strouth Gaul","doi":"10.1353/jnc.2022.0020","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jnc.2022.0020","url":null,"abstract":"Abstract:This essay uses an epistolary studies framework to examine the correspondence of Ann Paine with a male administrator of the American Board of Commissioners of Foreign Missions. Over the course of 1819-1820, Paine used letters to secure a position as a missionary in the Cherokee Nation. Missionary service enabled her to separate from her husband while retaining custody of her children and maintaining her public identity as a pious Christian woman. Testing the limits of marriage through the possibilities opened up to white women by global evangelical movements, this exchange demonstrates the unique flexibility of the letter as an exploratory space to navigate and renegotiate larger questions of personal agency in relation to social institutions. Because historians have used Paine's writings describing her time in the Cherokee Nation as primary sources for their work on the pivotal period preceding the Trail of Tears, her epistolary archive bears significance in understanding the gendered efficacy of letter writing, the fluidity and constraints of marriage, and white women's early engagements with globalized Protestant missionary causes.","PeriodicalId":41876,"journal":{"name":"J19-The Journal of Nineteenth-Century Americanists","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2022-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"74112003","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Mary Wood Apess, Methodism's Method, and Biopower's Soul","authors":"A. Schwartz","doi":"10.1353/jnc.2022.0023","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jnc.2022.0023","url":null,"abstract":"Abstract:This essay reads a critically neglected conversion narrative by a nineteenth century Pequot woman to argue that biopower has materialist specificity. Mary Apess's name for her experience of that specificity was \"the soul.\" And biopower was effective because that ensouled experience was one of deep loneliness. This argument begins with the modest but undertheorized proposition that for native converts, the returns on Christian conversion were not often clear or prompt. This essay examines conversion's risks as one native woman tallied them, risks shaped by her experience of gender and Indigeneity. It contrasts those risks with conversion's gains, specifically, conversion to Methodism. Methodism interested Apess—and should interest us—not simply for its affordance of fraternity among the socially and politically disesteemed, but because it was one of the earliest examples of biopolitical discipline, the \"Wesleyan pedagogy\" that Foucault named in his History of Sexuality. Methodism's method answered Apess's loneliness, her risky desire \"to see and be seen.\" As a way to negotiate the vagaries of what recent Indigenous studies has called liberalism's \"politics of recognition,\" Apess's critique of white ensoulment recalibrates the horizon of biopolitical criticism in the present—not so much an opportunity to conceptualize ecstasy as an invitation to imagine alienation's relief.","PeriodicalId":41876,"journal":{"name":"J19-The Journal of Nineteenth-Century Americanists","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2022-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"75792706","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"\"A Nat Turner in Every Family\": Exemplarity and Exceptionality in the Print Circulation of Slave Revolt","authors":"Alexander Mazzaferro","doi":"10.1353/jnc.2022.0019","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jnc.2022.0019","url":null,"abstract":"Abstract:This article tracks the circulation of literary and visual representations of the 1831 Nat Turner slave revolt in order to explore how early nineteenth-century printing practices intersected with debates over slavery. I show that a woodblock engraving published alongside Samuel Warner's understudied narrative of the rebellion was repurposed to depict an entirely different uprising. And I use this recycling to suggest that the aesthetic and technological exigencies of antebellum print culture undermined the proslavery claim—widely repeated in texts like Thomas Gray's better-known Confessions of Nat Turner—that Turner was an exceptional figure whose actions were not exemplary of broader slave unrest. The image's generic style and inherent reproducibility made available a subversive antislavery reading of the revolt that exploited, rather than resisted, the homogenizing logics of race, capitalism, and print to project an insurrectionary black collective whose threatening potential existence demanded abolition. Uniting African American Studies and the history of the book, I attribute this ideological reversal not merely to these texts' form or content but also to their multimedia materiality. Ultimately, the article complicates assumptions about authorial, readerly, and textual agency and offers a way to overcome the limitations of liberal individualism as a framework for black liberation.","PeriodicalId":41876,"journal":{"name":"J19-The Journal of Nineteenth-Century Americanists","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2022-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"74372548","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Little Women on Film: Socks or Buttons","authors":"Barbara Hochman","doi":"10.1353/jnc.2022.0018","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jnc.2022.0018","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":41876,"journal":{"name":"J19-The Journal of Nineteenth-Century Americanists","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2022-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"90619906","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Looking around The Marble Faun: Visuality, Authorship, and Authority","authors":"C. Reed","doi":"10.1353/jnc.2022.0022","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jnc.2022.0022","url":null,"abstract":"Abstract:Nathaniel Hawthorne's last and longest novel, The Marble Faun, was his most popular in the nineteenth century, but it has long troubled literary critics and scholars. This essay by an art historian uses philosopher VilémFlusser's theories of modern forms of visuality to explore how this book about Americans in Italy functioned both as text and as a physical object.Flusser's analysis of the challenge to forms of authority linked to authorship enacted by modern visual technologies illuminates the descriptive digressions and illogical plot that critics complained of in Hawthorne's text, and suggest why this book, in the so-called Tauchnitz edition, lent itself to extravagant practices of binding and extra-illustration.Emphasizing the narration's many invitations to interpretation and revision, the essay concludes by analyzing a surprising omission from Hawthorne's story structured around Roman tourist sites: the Sistine Chapel. Taking up critiques of Michelangelo's frescos by Hawthorne and his Anglophone Protestant contemporaries, the essay argues that The Marble Faun proposes itself as a reformulation of this famous text-based artwork in ways that engage mental habits that supplant linear reading with looking around.","PeriodicalId":41876,"journal":{"name":"J19-The Journal of Nineteenth-Century Americanists","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2022-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"72487847","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}