Contents indexed selectively.
'It is now widely acknowledged that the field of postcolonial studies has been by and large averse to exploring aesthetic matters save for discussions foregrounding postmodern literary features in postcolonial texts – what Eli Park Sorensen has famously dismissed as the “modernist ethos” of postcolonial scholarship. While this lack of engagement with aesthetic matters might have much to do with postcolonial studies’ subordination of form to political/historical questions, it also manifests itself through a generalized neglect of generic issues. Specifically, much work in postcolonial literary studies has systematically promoted a single body of cultural products only, namely the novel. Problematically constructing this genre as a “dominant” one in postcolonial literatures, this critical trend hardly does justice to the multiplicity of the field. Moreover, it misrepresents certain literary traditions within which the novel occupies a less central position (see Herbillon in this issue about the centrality of the short story in the Australian literary tradition). Also, postcolonial scholarship’s overemphasis on the novel-as-national-narrative has contributed to marginalizing literary traditions and works by writers who delink their novels from issues of modernity and nation formation (see, for instance, Sarah Brouillette’s 2007 discussion of the reasons behind the neglect of Zulfikar Ghose’s work by postcolonial critics). With regard to a Malaysian context, Philip Holden remarks that the overabundance of postcolonial scholarship devoted to the novel genre obscures the fact that, in “late colonial and post-independence periods”, the short story is “often a more common means of literary expression” (442). In the Caribbean, the earlier critical consensus that the novel developed in conjunction with nationalist movements and that it has been a dominant genre in the region has been problematized by critics such as Alison Donnell and Evelyn O’Callaghan who, by broadening the terrain of analysis to pre-1940s Caribbean writings, have highlighted the generic diversity of that corpus – and, what is more, have emphasized the “global” dimension of the early Caribbean novel. (Introduction)
'Although the short story is regarded as a minor genre in many literary traditions, it is arguably a major one in Australian literature, which, more specifically, was long dominated by the realist short story. Deriving from the colonial “yarns”, the so-called “hard-luck stories” were indeed felt to be characterized by a realism that was in turn seen to result from the archetypal dryness of Australia itself. While the contemporary Australian writer Murray Bail has repeatedly questioned the realistic quality of his homeland’s literature, he has also sought to broaden the subgenre to which it has often been reduced, namely bush realism. With “Camouflage” (1998), Bail appropriates the hard-luck story to convey a marginal perspective. This article shows how this strategy of revision allows him to contest both the archetypality of bush realism and the stereotypical perceptions of the Australian landscape, thereby problematizing the highly controversial relationship between place and literature.' (Publication abstract)
'A Brief Take on the Australian Novel makes a substantial contribution to Australian literary studies, providing readers with a panoramic view of Australian novels – from colonial literature produced in the convict system (including Australia’s first novel, Henry Savery’s 1831 work Quintus Servinton) through to the postmodernists and the practitioners of contemporary Australian fiction.' (Introduction)
'It is now widely acknowledged that the field of postcolonial studies has been by and large averse to exploring aesthetic matters save for discussions foregrounding postmodern literary features in postcolonial texts – what Eli Park Sorensen has famously dismissed as the “modernist ethos” of postcolonial scholarship. While this lack of engagement with aesthetic matters might have much to do with postcolonial studies’ subordination of form to political/historical questions, it also manifests itself through a generalized neglect of generic issues. Specifically, much work in postcolonial literary studies has systematically promoted a single body of cultural products only, namely the novel. Problematically constructing this genre as a “dominant” one in postcolonial literatures, this critical trend hardly does justice to the multiplicity of the field. Moreover, it misrepresents certain literary traditions within which the novel occupies a less central position (see Herbillon in this issue about the centrality of the short story in the Australian literary tradition). Also, postcolonial scholarship’s overemphasis on the novel-as-national-narrative has contributed to marginalizing literary traditions and works by writers who delink their novels from issues of modernity and nation formation (see, for instance, Sarah Brouillette’s 2007 discussion of the reasons behind the neglect of Zulfikar Ghose’s work by postcolonial critics). With regard to a Malaysian context, Philip Holden remarks that the overabundance of postcolonial scholarship devoted to the novel genre obscures the fact that, in “late colonial and post-independence periods”, the short story is “often a more common means of literary expression” (442). In the Caribbean, the earlier critical consensus that the novel developed in conjunction with nationalist movements and that it has been a dominant genre in the region has been problematized by critics such as Alison Donnell and Evelyn O’Callaghan who, by broadening the terrain of analysis to pre-1940s Caribbean writings, have highlighted the generic diversity of that corpus – and, what is more, have emphasized the “global” dimension of the early Caribbean novel. (Introduction)
'It is now widely acknowledged that the field of postcolonial studies has been by and large averse to exploring aesthetic matters save for discussions foregrounding postmodern literary features in postcolonial texts – what Eli Park Sorensen has famously dismissed as the “modernist ethos” of postcolonial scholarship. While this lack of engagement with aesthetic matters might have much to do with postcolonial studies’ subordination of form to political/historical questions, it also manifests itself through a generalized neglect of generic issues. Specifically, much work in postcolonial literary studies has systematically promoted a single body of cultural products only, namely the novel. Problematically constructing this genre as a “dominant” one in postcolonial literatures, this critical trend hardly does justice to the multiplicity of the field. Moreover, it misrepresents certain literary traditions within which the novel occupies a less central position (see Herbillon in this issue about the centrality of the short story in the Australian literary tradition). Also, postcolonial scholarship’s overemphasis on the novel-as-national-narrative has contributed to marginalizing literary traditions and works by writers who delink their novels from issues of modernity and nation formation (see, for instance, Sarah Brouillette’s 2007 discussion of the reasons behind the neglect of Zulfikar Ghose’s work by postcolonial critics). With regard to a Malaysian context, Philip Holden remarks that the overabundance of postcolonial scholarship devoted to the novel genre obscures the fact that, in “late colonial and post-independence periods”, the short story is “often a more common means of literary expression” (442). In the Caribbean, the earlier critical consensus that the novel developed in conjunction with nationalist movements and that it has been a dominant genre in the region has been problematized by critics such as Alison Donnell and Evelyn O’Callaghan who, by broadening the terrain of analysis to pre-1940s Caribbean writings, have highlighted the generic diversity of that corpus – and, what is more, have emphasized the “global” dimension of the early Caribbean novel. (Introduction)
