Before Lander became a town, the area had already been the summer hunting grounds for numerous Native American tribes, seen a few rendezvous, and had become a freighting hub. Supplying goods for the miners in the South Pass area and goods for the cavalry and natives at Fort Washakie, the freight wagons rolled year-round. When the Lander townsite was plotted in 1880, the main road remained wide enough that a 20-hitch team could turn around. As more people settled in the area, Lander became an agricultural-based town. It was known throughout the state for its abundance of produce, hay, blooded horses, cattle, and sheep. But it was not all work for the settlers; the Wind River Mountains also beckoned. Lander, located at the edge of the southern half of the Shoshone National Forest, became an outfitting stop for alpinists, scientists, and others seeking adventure. Once word of the vast elk and deer herds and the abundance of trout in those high mountain lakes was out, hunters and fisherman came from all over. It also did not take long for Western adventure writers to highlight that Lander was a good place for tourists who wanted to experience the romance of the west through horseback riding, camping, and mountain adventures.
Before Lander became a town, the area had already been the summer hunting grounds for numerous Native American tribes, seen a few rendezvous, and had become a freighting hub. Supplying goods for the miners in the South Pass area and goods for the cavalry and natives at Fort Washakie, the freight wagons rolled year-round. When the Lander townsite was plotted in 1880, the main road remained wide enough that a 20-hitch team could turn around. As more people settled in the area, Lander became an agricultural-based town. It was known throughout the state for its abundance of produce, hay, blooded horses, cattle, and sheep. But it was not all work for the settlers; the Wind River Mountains also beckoned. Lander, located at the edge of the southern half of the Shoshone National Forest, became an outfitting stop for alpinists, scientists, and others seeking adventure. Once word of the vast elk and deer herds and the abundance of trout in those high mountain lakes was out, hunters and fisherman came from all over. It also did not take long for Western adventure writers to highlight that Lander was a good place for tourists who wanted to experience the romance of the west through horseback riding, camping, and mountain adventures.
How do experiences of national identity and belonging differ for French Muslims and Catholics respectively? What can these differences tell us about the causes and dynamics of minority marginalization in plural secular societies? To address these questions, Carol Ferrara draws upon extensive ethnographic fieldwork across France within spaces of religious education and interfaith dialogue, illustrating the inequities between Muslim and Catholic citizens in opportunities for national belonging, political and civic engagement, and institution-building. This reexamination of Muslim exclusion against the backdrop of Catholic inclusion calls into question popular explanations for minority marginalization – especially those that blame non-adherence to French Republican principles or the exclusionary power of secular discourse. Instead, Ferrara argues that the boundaries of French belonging are policed by francité -a tacit national imaginary ideal-type that draws upon and reproduces national cognitive biases and undermines the French republican values of secularism, equality, liberty, and fraternity. Given the central role of francité in the politics of belonging, Ferrara suggests that paths toward greater pluralism in France and beyond lie in the reframing of national identity narratives and reimagining the inclusive potential of secular democratic values.
In the 16th century, St. Teresa of Avila used a castle with seven chambers as a metaphor for a person's spiritual development. Free of religious dogma, this modern translation by Mirabai Starr renders St. Teresa's work a beautiful and practical set of teachings for seekers of all faiths in need of spiritual guidance. It also places this classic in a contemporary context, reasserting its importance even after more than 400 years.Penguin Group
Writing with a Vengeance examines the life and works of a nineteenth-century French courtesan, Céleste Vénard, later the Countess de Chabrillan. A notorious Paris courtesan, Chabrillan married into the nobility, taught herself to write (penning two series of memoirs) and, upon being widowed, wrote novels to support herself - ten, between 1857 and 1885. These novels and memoirs constitute exceptional literary and historical documents, particularly as very few sex workers before the twentieth century have left written records of their lives. Writing with a Vengeance intertwines the courtesan's autobiographical account of the horrors of her life on the streets with that era's political, medical, and cultural discourses surrounding prostitution. Though French society both silenced and refused to pardon the prostitute, Carol Mossman's literary analysis of Chabrillan's novels contends that it is through the process of writing itself that she arrived at self-forgiveness and ultimately refashioned for her damaged self a new identity and narrative.
« Alors, en début de soirée, ce 3 août 1962, vint la Mort, index sur la sonnette du 12305 Fifth Helena Drive. La Mort qui essuyait la sueur de son front avec sa casquette de base-ball. La Mort qui mastiquait vite, impatiente, un chewing-gum. Pas un bruit à l'intérieur. La Mort ne peut pas le laisser sur le pas de la porte, ce foutu paquet, il lui faut une signature. Elle n'entend que les vibrations ronronnantes de l'air conditionné. Ou bien... est-ce qu'elle entend une radio là ? La maison est de type espagnol, c'est une « hacienda » de plain-pied; murs en fausses briques, toiture en tuiles orange luisantes, fenètres aux stores tirés. On la croirait presque recouverte d'une poussière grise. Compacte et miniature comme une maison de poupée, rien de grandiose pour Brentwood. La Mort sonna à deux reprises, appuya fort la seconde. Cette fois, on ouvrit la porte. De la main de la Mort, j'acceptais ce cadeau. Je savais ce que c'était, je crois. Et de la part de qui c'était. En voyant le nom et l'adresse, j'ai ri et j'ai signé sans hésiter. »
“Both based in South East Queensland, Coral Alma Slater began writing her memoirs with her granddaughter, Ashleigh Venz, in 2013, with the intent of preserving her remarkable life story for their family and future generations.”--Back cover.
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