In the spring of 2003, acclaimed journalist Anne Nivat set off from Tajikistan on a six-month journey through the aftermath of the American invasion and occupation of Afghanistan and Iraq. Nivat felt compelled to meet and write about the lives of everyday people, whom she allows to speak in their own voices, in their own words--words of hope, sadness, anger, and, above all, the uncertainty that fills their everyday lives. Her new Preface for the paperback edition looks at the situation in Iraq today.
Completed shortly before Joseph Stalin's death in 1953, the vysotkii, or "sky houses," still dominate the Moscow skyline today. Seven in all, they were the Soviet answer to the American skyscraper, transforming the Soviet capital from a feudal backwater into the city of the future. With their soaring towers and gothic architectural details, the vysotkas were intended to be enduring monuments to the workers state and to the glories of Communism--though they were built on the backs of slave laborers and, initially, the prerogative only of the Soviet elite. Now these imposing giants lie on the fault line between a world that has vanished and one still emerging from its ruins. When she moved to Moscow several years ago, journalist and Russia expert Anne Nivat settled into one of the vysotkas, the one that happens to overlook the Kremlin. She became fascinated by the building and learned everything she could about its history. As she got to know her neighbors and fellow tenants, Nivat discovered that they included some of the building's original inhabitants or their descendants, hand-chosen by Stalin and his henchman Lavrenti Beria (arrested and executed for high treason shortly after Stalin's death)--KGB operatives, Bolshoi ballerinas, and artists of Soviet agitprop. Living side by side with them were representatives of the "new Russia"--entrepreneurs, foreign investors, and oligarchs; as any Moscow real estate agent will tell you, Stalin-era buildings in today's market are some of the most coveted addresses in the city. By means of this decaying but still elegant Soviet icon, Nivat gives us a way of grasping the complexities of a country struggling to come to terms with its past and define its future. She allows the tenants of her vysotka to speak for themselves, to offer their perspectives on where Russia has been and where it is going. Some are keenly nostalgic for the days when the State dictated life. Others have prospered in the confusion that has reigned since the Evil Empire's fall and look to a market-driven economy to guide Russia to the Promised Land. Still others fall some place between the two, anxious but hopeful, longing for yet also fearful of change. Taken together, the portraits of the vysotka's inhabitants provide a panorama of Russia today. The View from the Vysotka shows us life from the inside, evoking both the forces that have swept through this vast and fascinating nation over the course of the last half-century, as well as a building that has managed to endure them.
Two years ago, when she was thirty years old, Anne Nivat decided to see first-hand what war was all about. Russia had just launched its second brutal campaign against Chechnya. And though the Russians strictly forbade Westerners from covering the war, the aspiring French journalist decided she would go. There are two very real dangers in Chechnya: being arrested by the Russians and being kidnapped by the Chechens. Nivat strapped her satellite phone to her belly, disguised herself in the garb of a Chechen peasant, and sneaked across the border. She found a young guide, Islam, to lead her illegally through the war zone. For six months they followed the war, travelling with underground rebels and sleeping with Chechen families or in abandoned buildings. Anne trembled through air raids; walked through abandoned killing fields; and helped in the halls of bloody hospitals. She interviewed rebel leaders, government officials, young widows, and angry fighters, and she reported everything back to France. Her reports in Lib'ration led to antiwar demonstrations outside the Russian embassy in Paris. Anne's words move. They are not florid, but terse, cool, dramatic. More than just a war correspondent's report, Chienne de Guerre is a moving story of struggle and self-discovery -- the adventures of one young woman who repeatedly tests her own physical and psychological limits in the extremely dangerous and stressful environment of war.
Two years ago, when she was thirty years old, Anne Nivat decided to see first-hand what war was all about. Russia had just launched its second brutal campaign against Chechnya. And though the Russians strictly forbade Westerners from covering the war, the aspiring French journalist decided she would go. There are two very real dangers in Chechnya: being arrested by the Russians and being kidnapped by the Chechens. Nivat strapped her satellite phone to her belly, disguised herself in the garb of a Chechen peasant, and sneaked across the border. She found a young guide, Islam, to lead her illegally through the war zone. For six months they followed the war, travelling with underground rebels and sleeping with Chechen families or in abandoned buildings. Anne trembled through air raids; walked through abandoned killing fields; and helped in the halls of bloody hospitals. She interviewed rebel leaders, government officials, young widows, and angry fighters, and she reported everything back to France. Her reports in Lib'ration led to antiwar demonstrations outside the Russian embassy in Paris. Anne's words move. They are not florid, but terse, cool, dramatic. More than just a war correspondent's report, Chienne de Guerre is a moving story of struggle and self-discovery -- the adventures of one young woman who repeatedly tests her own physical and psychological limits in the extremely dangerous and stressful environment of war.
Completed shortly before Joseph Stalin's death in 1953, the vysotkii, or "sky houses," still dominate the Moscow skyline today. Seven in all, they were the Soviet answer to the American skyscraper, transforming the Soviet capital from a feudal backwater into the city of the future. With their soaring towers and gothic architectural details, the vysotkas were intended to be enduring monuments to the workers state and to the glories of Communism--though they were built on the backs of slave laborers and, initially, the prerogative only of the Soviet elite. Now these imposing giants lie on the fault line between a world that has vanished and one still emerging from its ruins. When she moved to Moscow several years ago, journalist and Russia expert Anne Nivat settled into one of the vysotkas, the one that happens to overlook the Kremlin. She became fascinated by the building and learned everything she could about its history. As she got to know her neighbors and fellow tenants, Nivat discovered that they included some of the building's original inhabitants or their descendants, hand-chosen by Stalin and his henchman Lavrenti Beria (arrested and executed for high treason shortly after Stalin's death)--KGB operatives, Bolshoi ballerinas, and artists of Soviet agitprop. Living side by side with them were representatives of the "new Russia"--entrepreneurs, foreign investors, and oligarchs; as any Moscow real estate agent will tell you, Stalin-era buildings in today's market are some of the most coveted addresses in the city. By means of this decaying but still elegant Soviet icon, Nivat gives us a way of grasping the complexities of a country struggling to come to terms with its past and define its future. She allows the tenants of her vysotka to speak for themselves, to offer their perspectives on where Russia has been and where it is going. Some are keenly nostalgic for the days when the State dictated life. Others have prospered in the confusion that has reigned since the Evil Empire's fall and look to a market-driven economy to guide Russia to the Promised Land. Still others fall some place between the two, anxious but hopeful, longing for yet also fearful of change. Taken together, the portraits of the vysotka's inhabitants provide a panorama of Russia today. The View from the Vysotka shows us life from the inside, evoking both the forces that have swept through this vast and fascinating nation over the course of the last half-century, as well as a building that has managed to endure them.
In the spring of 2003, acclaimed journalist Anne Nivat set off from Tajikistan on a six-month journey through the aftermath of the American invasion and occupation of Afghanistan and Iraq. Nivat felt compelled to meet and write about the lives of everyday people, whom she allows to speak in their own voices, in their own words--words of hope, sadness, anger, and, above all, the uncertainty that fills their everyday lives. Her new Preface for the paperback edition looks at the situation in Iraq today.
The Algerian War in Film Fifty Years Later, 2004–2012 examines the cultural, political, and aesthetic significance of narrative films made during the fiftieth-anniversary period of the war, between 2004 and 2012. This period was a fruitful one, in which film became a central medium generating varied representations of the war, and Anne Donadey argues that the fiftieth-anniversary film production contributed to France’s move from a period of the return of the repressed to one of difficult anamnesis. Donadey provides a close analysis of twenty narrative films made during this period on both side of the Mediterranean, observing that while some films continue to center on the point of view of only one stake-holding group, a number of films open up new opportunities for multicultural French audiences to envision the war through the eyes of Algerian characters on-screen, and other films bring memories from various groups together in thoughtful synthesis that represent the complexity of the situation. Donadey takes this analysis a step further to analyze what types of gendered representations emerge in these films, given the important participation of Algerian women in the revolutionary war. Scholars of Francophone studies, film, women’s studies, and history will find this book particularly useful.
A common hazard for implementations of applicative programming languages is the excessive creation of garbage cells during program execution. The available run-time garbage collecting processes are expensive in time and often require a periodic disruption of the program execution. The present book addresses the problem of memory re-use for logic programs through program analysis rather than by run-time garbage collection. The static analysis is constructed as an application of abstractinterpretation for logic programs. The starting point is a previously developed application of integrated type and mode analysis, which basically supplies a description of the logical terms to which program variables can be bound at run time. The contribution of the book consists of a modular extension of the abstract domain and operations in order to derive run-time properties concerning the sharing and liveness of term substructures dynamically created during program execution. Alsoillustrated is how such information can be used by the compiler to improve the allocation of run-time structures and to automatically introduce destructive assignments in logic languages in a safe and transparent way, thereby shifting some part of the run-time storage reclamation overhead to compile time.
Modernizing and colonizing forces brought nineteenth-century Sri Lankan Buddhists both challenges and opportunities. How did Buddhists deal with social and economic change; new forms of political, religious, and educational discourse; and Christianity? And how did Sri Lankan Buddhists, collaborating with other Asian Buddhists, respond to colonial rule? To answer these questions, Anne M. Blackburn focuses on the life of leading monk and educator Hikkaduve Sumangala (1827–1911) to examine more broadly Buddhist life under foreign rule. In Locations of Buddhism, Blackburn reveals that during Sri Lanka’s crucial decades of deepening colonial control and modernization, there was a surprising stability in the central religious activities of Hikkaduve and the Buddhists among whom he worked. At the same time, they developed new institutions and forms of association, drawing on pre-colonial intellectual heritage as well as colonial-period technologies and discourse. Advocating a new way of studying the impact of colonialism on colonized societies, Blackburn is particularly attuned here to human experience, paying attention to the habits of thought and modes of affiliation that characterized individuals and smaller scale groups. Locations of Buddhism is a wholly original contribution to the study of Sri Lanka and the history of Buddhism more generally.
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