This is the home page for the Arts and Humanities Research Council funded project ‘Provincialism: Literature and the Cultural Politics of Middleness in Nineteenth-Century Britain’. During 2019-2020 the project team will be exploring how nineteenth-century writers defined English provincialism. We will be walking and mapping the countryside around Nuneaton, in North Warwickshire: a place made famous in the novels of provincial life by George Eliot. We will bringing new readers and writers to the legacy of George Eliot in her bicentenary year through talks, workshops, courses, and teaching packs. An associated seminar series ‘Provincialism at Large’ will feature literary scholars, political theorists, and art historians, working with graduate students to explore what provincialism and the depiction of provincial life meant to the Victorians in an age of imperialism.
We’re delighted to welcome Prof. Sukanya Banerjee for the first of our 2020 Provincialism at Large events. Prof. Banerjee (University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee), will be giving a masterclass and evening lecture as a joint event with Royal Holloway Centre for Victorian Studies.
Sukanya Banerjee is the author of Becoming Imperial Citizens: Indians in the Late-Victorian Empire (2010, awarded the NVSA Sonya Rudikoff Prize for best first book in Victorian Studies), and the co-editor of New Routes for Diaspora Studies (2012). Her articles have also appeared in journals such as Victorian Studies, Victorian Literature and Culture, and Diaspora: A Journal of Transnational Studies.
The masterclass is entitled ‘”Nation”, “Home” and “Empire” in Victorian Studies’, and will be taking place on Thursday 13th February at 2-3pm in Room IN029 (International Building, Egham campus). The talk will be taking place on the same day at 6-7.30pm in the Moore Annexe Lecture Theatre (Egham campus).
Readings for the masterclass (pdfs below): Burton, A. (1997), Who Needs the Nation? Interrogating ‘British’ History. Journal of Historical Sociology, 10: 227-248. doi:10.1111/1467-6443.00039
Banerjee, Sukanya. “Transimperial.” Victorian Literature and Culture 46, no. 3-4 (2018): 925–28. doi:10.1017/S1060150318001195
Register for free tickets via Eventbrite:
Evening talk: https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/sukanya-banerjee-title-tbc-tickets-90521188311.
Lecture 6pm: Colonial Economies, Consumer Loyalty, and the Transimperial
Can the expansive demands of the free market be reconciled with more sedimented yearnings for the “local,” the “provincial”? In revisiting this classic-and abiding question-this talk studies the relation between late-nineteenth-century India and Britain, considering how an idiom of consumer loyalty negotiates the tense relation between free trade and incipient notions of territoriality and nationalism.
Teaching George Eliot at secondary school level can be quite a challenge. Working with our partners the George Eliot Fellowship and local English teachers in the Midlands we’ve co-designed 12 lessons on George Eliot’s Silas Marner aimed at Y9 (13yr olds).
Our focus – thanks to the input of beacon teacher Wendy Lennon – is an enquiry question: ‘What is Community?’ Project Teaching and Research Associate, Colette Ramuz (an experienced secondary school head of English) has led the development of resources. The pack has been designed to build KS3 students’ analysis skills, to foster communication skills and, more specifically, to help prepare your students for GCSE English Literature Papers 1 and Paper 2. There are cross-curricular links with Art, History, Geography, RE and PSHE. The lessons have been designed with depth and detail to challenge top sets but are readily adaptable with alternative tasks for lower sets.
Individual lesson folders contains a 1 page outline Scheme of Work, a slide show for the class, and extracts from the text which form the focus of close work each session. Lesson 1 comes with a package of background notes on Eliot, her novella Silas Marner, and its contexts.
Thanks to the support of the Arts and Humanities Research Council, these resources are all free and open to reuse. We would also like to thank Simon Winterman, Allisha Miller, Wendy Lennon, Roberta Gillum, and the George Eliot Fellowship as well as Teacher Hub at the Department of English at Royal Holloway, University of London, for all their support.
We welcome feedback on these resources, how you plan to use them and what changes they make to how you approach teaching texts of this period. We will send a free copy of the DVD of the 1985 BBC adaptation starring Sir Ben Kingsley to the first 10 users who answer these four brief questions by email to firstname.lastname@example.org. We are also happy to share a single zip file for the scheme of work on request which we can’t do on WordPress – hence the multiple downloads!
- How do you intend to use these resources?
- Has this set of resources changed your thinking about approaching this text?
- What might you do differently as a result of looking at these resources?
- Will the approach taken in these resources change your teaching practice/planned teaching in any way?
Lesson 1: What is Community? Introducing George Eliot’s Silas Marner
Lesson 2: Silas’s Communities
Lesson 3: Money
Lesson 4: Family
Lesson 5: Objects
Lesson 6: Speech and Accent
Lesson 7: Gender
Lesson 8: Community and Change
Lesson 9: Loneliness and Secrets
Lesson 10: The Ending
Lesson 11: Courtroom Drama: Eppie’s Community
Lesson 12: Assessment
O May I join the choir invisible
Of those immortal dead who live again
In minds made better by their presence: live
In pulses stirr’d to generosity,
In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn
For miserable aims that end with self,
In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars,
And with their mild persistence urge man’s search
To vaster issues.
In “The Choir Invisible” George Eliot gave an indication of what she hoped her literary afterlife might look like. I joined Professor Ruth Livesey on the AHRC “Provincialism” project in September and since then I’ve been considering where George Eliot lives in 21st century cultural discourse. Over the past couple of months, I have been using the George Eliot collections at Nuneaton Library and Nuneaton Museum and Art Gallery, who are partners on the project, to delve into the nature and trajectory of Eliot’s literary fame. One of the outputs of my post is to produce a scholarly article on this work, but I thought on this, the bicentenary of Eliot’s birth, I might share some gems from the Nuneaton collections and some reflections on the research so far. So, where does George Eliot live in 2019?
Eliot lives in the legacy of material culture she left in her wake. From the exquisite collection of her works at Nuneaton Library to local and national monuments, Eliot has been commemorated in ways large and small since her death in 1880. Public monuments include the George Eliot granite obelisk in the George Eliot Memorial Gardens in Nuneaton; the statue in Nuneaton Town centre (erected in 1986) and the memorial stone in Poets’ Corner at Westminster Abby, unveiled to coincide with the centenary of her death in 1980. But Eliot lives too in smaller ways in historical collections of local ephemera: in postcards of local places she uses in her works, in bookmarks, commemorative envelope covers, a Royal Mail postage stamp, in souvenir programmes of the week-long celebration in Nuneaton to mark the centenary of her birth in 1919. Tracking local newspaper reporting about Eliot since her first published fiction appeared in Blackwood’s Magazine in 1857, reveals a recurrent concern after her death, that she should not be forgotten. This concern was reflected early on, in the words on the George Eliot memorial obelisk in Nuneaton: “Lest we forget”. The raising of funds for a permanent memorial was the stated aim behind the events of the 1919 Eliot celebrations in Nuneaton and was finally brought to fruition through the work of the George Eliot Fellowship fifty years after its founding.
Eliot also lives in objects and artefacts. I was delighted to find she had a Royal Holloway connection, having attended Maths classes at Bedford College in 1850-1851.
I have been particularly drawn however to the small, every-day, commonplace Eliot artefacts contained in the collections at Nuneaton Museum, such as a simple receipt, signed by “Marian Lewes” which records the income she received from the trustees of her fathers’ estate on 8 December 1857. The receipt demonstrates the right Eliot claimed to name herself, but what makes the receipt even more remarkable is that it is addressed by the trustees to “Mrs Marian Lewes”. It is a visceral example of Eliot’s breath-taking self-determination. When she signed the receipt her first fictional writing Amos Barton, had just appeared in Blackwood’s Magazine and her literary incognito was still intact.
Fragile pages of blotting paper, also in the Nuneaton Museum collection, are extraordinary survivors of Eliot’s workaday life as a writer.
An empty mourning envelope, date stamped two days after Eliot’s death, addressed to her brother Isaac Evans at Griff, their childhood home, was arresting, bringing their relationship, bookended by rejection and loss, into sharp focus.
Eliot lives, of course, in academic discourse, in scholarly endeavour and debate but she has always lived in popular culture in film, radio and TV, in theatrical performances, public readings, pageants even musicals. During the week-long centenary celebrations in 1919, 2000 people took part in an open-air theatrical performance of “The George Eliot Centenary Pastoral Play” written by A. Farmer. This year the GE 2019 website testifies to a rich array of local, national and international events, readings, panel discussions, tours and theatre performances in her honour.
Eliot lives at the points of intersection between academia and popular culture. Two events yesterday at Senate House (George Eliot at 200) and the British Library (What’s So Great About George Eliot?) highlighted the impact of Eliot on the personal and professional lives of contemporary writers, broadcasters, actors, direct family descendants, George Eliot Fellowship members and Eliot scholars.
Eliot lives in mass digital repositories. During this research the scrapbook, a collection of ephemera, newspaper clippings, photographs, pamphlets and event invitations, drawn together over time, has come to resonate with me in a very 21st century way. This is not purely because they are a physical medium I have been consulting at Nuneaton Library, but because I have been searching for Eliot in mass digital repositories, seeking out fleeting references from forgotten, seemingly unimportant sources which only become significant when brought collectively before the eye: Eliot, there is no doubt, lives in the digital age.
Eliot lives, as she most hoped she might, in people, in expressions of humanity and in the richness of life seen through multiple perspectives. She is the subject but perhaps too the method underpinning the multiple perspectives of Gillian Wearing’s ground-breaking film “Everything is Connected: George Eliot’s Life” available on BBC iplayer.
I have during my time in Nuneaton seen George Eliot’s legacy in the quiet, unfailing kindness of the staff of Nuneaton Library and Nuneaton Museum and Art Gallery, to all who enter their doors. Eliot may yet to reach the dizzying global profile of Dickens, but her legacy lives.
Copyright in all the images displayed in this blog belongs to the copyright owners identified beneath each image. They are used here courtesy of Nuneaton Library, Nuneaton Library and Museum and Royal Holloway, University of London Archives.
Here you can read a piece I wrote for the project sponsors, the Arts and Humanities Research Council. It was great to have a chance to thank all the excellent partners I’ve been lucky to work with in Nuneaton.
In the bicentenary year of writer George Eliot, Professor Ruth Livesey, AHRC Leadership Fellow 2019-20 Provincialism: Literature & Cultural Politics, explores how Eliot was shaped by the education and experience she received while living in the Midlands, and how she believed ‘art had a responsibility to show a provincial life could be just as full of insight and moral courage as one on the great world stage.’
How do we judge success in life? Should we look to its legacy at the end, which is so often, as the case of the heroine Dorothea Brooke in George Eliot’s Middlemarch (1871), ‘incalculably diffusive’; or would a better understanding of what it is to be human come from looking at life in the middle and how we try to live a good life in the tangle of the ordinary and every day?
The writer, George Eliot – 200 this year – asks…
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On this page you can find a set of resources for teaching George Eliot at KS2. These were designed for our work with local schools in the Midlands around Eliot’s bicentenary, but they can be adapted for use anywhere with some tweaking.
Please do reuse and adapt and share these resources. We would be very grateful if you left some feedback on the resources as a comment on this page letting us know how you are using them and suggesting any thing we might add to support you.
The set includes brief teacher notes and outlines for each task:
- 1. a brief intro to Eliot’s life and work pitched at Y5/6 listeners (this is followed by a site specific quiz relating to St Mary the Virgin Church, Astley and Eliot’ Scenes of Clerical Life (1857);
- 2. A monologue by Mary Ann Evans (Eliot’s real name) with a task in which pupils write questions for her to answer;
- 3. A creative writing exercise designed by project writer in residence Anna Lawrence, asking pupils to devise a new everyday setting for Eliot to use in her next novel;
- 4. Two short-story frames/openings adapted from Eliot’s Silas Marner and ‘The Lifted Veil’;
- 5. A poetry cut-up exercise in which pupils piece together phrases from Eliot’s ‘Brother and Sister Sonnets’.
Colette is a Research and Teaching Assistant on the ‘Provincialism: Literature and the Cultural Politics of Middleness in Nineteenth-Century Britain’ project. She is a visiting tutor and doctoral researcher at the Department of English, Royal Holloway, University of London. She has recently contributed a chapter to a new text, ‘Dickens and Women Re-Observed’ and an article for Dickens Studies Annual: Essays on Victorian Fiction, both to be published March 2020. She is due to complete her doctoral thesis on ‘Oral Dickens: the Semiotics and Poetics of the Dickensian Mouth’ in 2021. Colette is helping to write and co-ordinate teaching materials and blog posts.
Although this project focuses on Eliot’s role in rethinking provincialism and her localisation in North Warwickshire, that work of hers was only made possible by Eliot’s outward-looking world view and experience of European intellectual culture.
If you are interested in following up Eliot’s encounters with the German world of ideas in person (as opposed to the translation work that absorbed her in her Coventry years) take a look at Bob Muscutt’s blog George Eliot in Weimar – highly informative and rich with research.
During 2019-20 the project will be hosting a series of speakers exploring the idea of provincialism, regionalism, and scale across the nineteenth century. The seminars are a collaboration between Royal Holloway Centre for Victorian Studies and Centre for Geohumanities and explore the concepts underlying the project through interdisciplinary conversations, ‘at large’ across the circulating imperial networks of nineteenth-century provincial thinking. We are very grateful to the organisers of the long-running ‘Landscape Surgery’ programme in the Department of Geography for their support in programming this year.
Seminars Autumn Term 2019: 9/10/2019; 19/11/2019 in conjunction with Landscape Surgery
Josephine McDonagh (University of Chicago): ‘Provincialism, Multilingualism and the Novel: early nineteenth century migration to South America and Jane Eyre’
Wednesday 9th October 2019 2-4pm, 11 Bedford Square 1-03
Suggested reading: McDonagh, ‘Rethinking Provincialism in Mid-Nineteenth-Century Fiction: Our Village to Villette’, Victorian Studies 55 (2013): 399-424. doi:10.2979/victorianstudies.55.3.399 http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.2979/victorianstudies.55.3.399 or email email@example.com.
Katrina Navickas (University of Hertfordshire): ‘Customary rights, property and contested belongings in English commons and village greens, 1795-1965’.
Tuesday 19th November 2019 2-4pm 11 Bedford Square 1.01
Abstract: This paper examines contested customary rights and landownership of commons and village greens in England in the 19th and 20th centuries. The 1965 Commons Registration act sought to map definitively the extent of common land and associated rights in England and Wales, but it was a flawed piece of legislation. Its implementation revealed the widespread difficulties of defining a common, its rights and its ownership, much of which has still not been resolved today. Some of those disputes stretched back into the 19th century and earlier. This paper takes as its focus the case studies of the 1795 court case about the village green of Steeple Bumpstead, Essex, and the contested ownership history of Wisley Common, Surrey, from the 19th century through to the 1965 legislation and the present day. It feeds into current academic and popular debates about land reform and legislation. What do such cases tell us about local and regional identities, and popular ideas of the commons and common rights? Why did people still claim common rights in 1965, and today?
Suggested further reading: Fitch vs Rawling, Fitch & Chatteris, 4 Feb. 1795, English Law Review, 126, p. 614-618
Anna Lawrence grew up in Halesowen on the outskirts of the Black Country, a few feet from where her ancestors forged nails in their back yard. She studied English at the University of Oxford and Children’s Literature at the University of Warwick. Before becoming a lecturer in creative writing at Birmingham City University, Anna was, among other things, a trainee prison governor, and this fuelled her interest in how places shape the experience of people living there. She explored the interaction of the magical and the mundane in her novel Ruby’s Spoon (Chatto & Windus, 2010), set in a fictional Black Country town where witches and mermaids may (or may not) reside, and her poetry investigates similar territory.
‘Her memories slip like grit under her feet’.
A sister remembers the loving violence of her childhood relationship with her brother, looking backwards to a past that is fading into history. Back then, new infrastructure was reshaping familiar landscapes. Those growing up at the time felt the pressure of change, fear of the unknown speed of things, even in that middle space of England between country and city; a place where – as Denis Cosgrove writes – the seeming balance of pastoral is always overshadowed by the intimation of death.
She tries to go back from her modern urban life to the place of her dreams and fears. She wants to commemorate that love of brother and sister, now so clearly gone. But even when she finds the place itself, it is no longer that place. The cycles of progress have swept it clean, drained it of meaning for her, in the paradox of feeling for place in an age of improvement and reclamation.
This is Anna Lawrence’s short story ‘Quarry’. But that rough outline resonates with George Eliot’s work – and in particular, The Mill on the Floss(1860) and Silas Marner (1861). Lawrence is writer in residence on the AHRC funded project Provincialism: Literature and the Cultural Politics of Middleness in Britainand has been commissioned to produce work in response to Eliot’s bicentenary in 2019. ‘Quarry’ is the first story to result from that and one which – as its polyvalent title suggests – figures writing and memory as pursuit; as elusive prey; as excavation and sudden plunge; as careful, patient scraping away at recalcitrant material.
‘Quarry’ explores a sister’s memories of her older brother in a childhood threatened by small violences, passionate love and a great chasm of absence. We know the fates of these two – the bookish girl, Bub, and Gav with his bikes and torn jeans – will take them different places, carried on the currents of social (im)mobilities in the late twentieth century. The relationship echoes the violence and love of Tom and Maggie Tulliver, thrust apart by forces of change, lives ended by environmental disaster, and the troubled nostalgia of Eliot’s Brother and Sister Sonnets. The quarry that is so full of fears for young Bub haunts those poems too, as it does Silas Marner, where Dunsey Cass ‘stepped forward into darkness’ by its slippery edge. The pit outside Silas Marner’s house is drained thanks to progress in landscape management; but whilst the quarry reveals his stolen money and a long-sunk family secret, his attempts to find the truth of his own past back in Lantern Yard are fruitless. The restless energies of capitalism mean that the place he remembers has gone. Nothing remains apart from his memory and the trauma of his shunning.
Silas finds that ‘The old place is all swep’ away’ for a new factory in his former home in the industrial North; Bub finds ‘rewilding’, conservation projects, newts and rangers at the old quarry when she returns. Both stage the impossibility of returning to the old home. Place memory is made out of what we carry away from it, the dust and sand and crumbs stuck in the corners of pockets; it is filled with meaning by the stories that we gather up and pin to it – of gods, ghosts, saints, of rumours, myths and fairytales – and it is only through these that we can take a sense of place with us on a world on the move.
Lawrence, who was raised in the Black Country and now teaches in Birmingham, has a rich record of writing and thinking about local place and how dream, memory, fantasy shape our sense of attachment and dwelling. ‘Quarry’ returns to those themes and works with materials that have fed a wave of new work on landscape and Englishness across the arts in the last decade. Lawrence’s title plays with the idea that writing rests on a heap of resources mined out of common grounds and Eliot’s own practice. In the research process for her novels Eliot kept a series of notebooks filled with extracts from her reading. She copied the final sift of into what she called her Quarry.
Lawrence’s most visible quarried resource in the story is the public information film, The Spirit of Dark and Lonely Water(1973 Central Office of Information dir. Jeff Grant), narrated by Donald Pleasance. At the film’s opening the cowled figure of the Spirit – straight out of the Gothic canons of Matthew Lewis and Anne Radcliffe – stands in a mist-covered swamp. ‘This is the kind of place you’d expect to find me’, trickles out Pleasance’s sickly dark-honey tones. The film then cuts away to an everyday sunlit scene of young boys egging each other on trying to get a ball out of a muddy-banked pit of water: ‘But no-one expects to find me here – it seems too ordinary’. The boy’s foot slips. There’s a splash; then there is silence. It’s a brilliant breaking apart of our conditioning to genres. Death can be seen – just out the corner of your eye – amid the everyday and ordinary places; the real can also be haunted.
Lawrence’s ‘Quarry’ figures that presence of death through the break, the gap, the silences that shape its delicate frame. ‘Bub’ herself takes her new name (the only one we have for her) from the public information film in which we hear that the spirit of the dark waters has ‘no power’ over ‘sensible children’. Bub is safe from death in dark waters, but is still tethered to some dangerous object in its hidden depths, even in the modern day present that the story closes with. The story is an exercise in the painful impossibilities of nostalgia for those whom the past is full of sudden falls, darkness, in which loving violence leaves but a sweet sprinkling of dust to fill the void.
Lawrence’s work claims the right of the ordinary to be, in and of itself, luminous. Her story pushes beyond the wave of new writing, art and music that embraces the aesthetics of the 1970s to look inwards and imagine a ‘deep England’. The late 1960s and 1970s have been mined for their own revivals of English folklore and myth, even as pylons began to stride across the downlands and industrial decline left rust and brickfields on the edges of towns and cities. The aesthetics of public information, mass further education, and life in a provincial town are sampled to present an imagined alternative to the eviscerated municipal commons of now. David Matless and Michael Gardiner have both written recently of the political problematics of this nostalgic return to a landscape of Englishness, even if, as one notable practitioner Jim Jupp suggests, it is an accession of impossibility – a ‘nostalgia for nostalgia’.
Perhaps the best way to grasp the aesthetic of this provincial weird is to skim the catalogue of Ghost Box Records. The label’s house band, Belbury Poly, conjures life in a fictional market town in the borderlands that has an ancient church and recent polytechnic. The design aesthetic of the album covers is inspired by 1970s Open University textbooks. The music, on the other hand, rips open that carefully managed surface of deliberate ordinariness to allow us to hear something like the spirit of dark waters. We’re tuned in to the sounds of another dimension – an alternative modernity that has already split up with our world and gone by on its separate way – thanks to the soundscape of moog and synth and radiophonic experiment that, in themselves, represent near obsolete technological forms.
But despite Lawrence’s early literary interests in magical realism, ‘Quarry’ stays in form as well as in subject in the realm of the everyday. Its concern, as the title suggests, is not with alternative worlds and hauntology, but the stuff under our feet. How we build a world by digging it away and then wonder at its instability. How we exist on a surface, how writing and art forms its own surface, how gaps and sudden falls – elision and caesura, scraped paint and scratched paper – are part of making work. Lawrence’s commitment to realism and the materiality of writing practice in this story is, of course, a fit tribute to Eliot who did more than any other British writer to transform what it was we think a piece of fiction can do in our relationship with the everyday world. It is also, however, a quiet demand for the political significance of a certain sort of storytelling.
In Writing in Society(1983) Raymond Williams looked back over the emergence of the category of ‘regional fiction’ in the twentieth century, a category he saw that was increasingly aligned with ‘working-class fiction’.This sort of labelling, William points out, implies that life in some regions – say London or the home counties – is normal or general, whilst the people and lives anywhere else are, well, regional. Williams’s essay still has much to offer an analysis of the contemporary literary marketplace, which has at least begun to acknowledge the problem of the blithe arrogance of metropolitan, middle-class possession of the ‘normal’.
Williams argues that stories of regional or provincial life remain vital to a state of political self-realization. There is a great need, he argues, for works ‘rooted in region or in class’ which can achieve a ‘close living substance’ from experience:
they seek the substance of those finer-drawn, often occluded, relations and relationships which in their pressures and interventions at once challenge, threaten, change and yet, in the intricacies of history, contribute to the formation of that class or region in self-realization and in struggle, including especially new forms of self-realization and struggle. Raymond Williams, Writing in Society (1983)
Stories involve a moment of recognition that is in itself a transformation. Forget the late bourgeois idea that novels are concerned with individuals living privately. Williams insists that we make space for fictions – especially in a post-colonial world – that let us see the entanglement of lives, regions, geopolitics and understand the reflexive play of self in that nested scale of society.
Struggle and self-realization is at the heart of Lawrence’s story too. Yet unlike a strong regionalism that we might trace in an arc from Scott, to Emily Bronte, early Hardy and Lawrence, to Benjamin Myers, its landscape is not one of radical alterity. Her work is closer the genre of provincial fiction as it emerged in the nineteenth century with Eliot, Gaskell, Trollope. It is a genre of everydayness and one that became increasingly associated with the middlebrow and the feminine in the twentieth century, perhaps reaching its neutral epitome with Barbara Pym. If its outlines are less extreme, its violence small, its settings middling, the struggle to collective self-realization is no less vital.
Bub’s story is one that many women feel they already know because it’s always been there. The only surprise is that it has come as news to so many: that life is a constant calculation of risk – we could be pinned down by anyone, anywhere at home or out and about – and sensible girls must always look twice before crossing. In Lawrence’s hands that provincial mode is a realization of the self-censorship that so many women practice to stay alive, living carefully in the middle landscape. Try to climb higher, to quarry deep, or stand out, and, like the figure in Goosey Gander, you may find you are flung over the edge, falling.
Denis Cosgrove, ‘Landscapes and Myths, Gods and Humans’ in Barbara Bender ed. Landscape Politics and Perspectives (Oxford: Berg, 1993), pp. 281-305
Michael Gardiner, ‘Brexit and the Aesthetics of Anachronism’, ed. Robert Eaglestone, Brexit and Literature, (London: Routledge, 2018); David Matless, Landscape and Englishness(rev ed. London: Reaktion, 2016);
Raymond Williams, ‘Region and Class in the Novel’ in Writing in Society(London: Verso, 1983), 229-238.