Approaching affective masculinities

9781138056695C09.3D 103 [103–111] 20.9.2019 12:56PM 9 Approaching affective masculinities Todd W. Reeser What does or can “affect” do to masculinity? The widespread “affective turn”—which Patricia Clough (2007) described as “a new configuration of bodies, technology, and matter instigating a shift in thought in critical theory” (p. 2)—has allowed gender studies scholars to shift beyond language-focused theoretical approaches to gender. Affect studies has emerged in part through and with feminist and queer studies, but masculinity has not significantly factored into this work. As a result, this chapter offers ways to approach critical studies of men and masculinity in light of affect studies. The goal is to offer gender studies scholars approaches to include and to adapt in their own work. The relationship between masculinity and “emotion” is not taken up, as the topic has been covered in gender studies scholarship now for many years, even as affect’s relationship to emotions will remain a central concern. It is not possible to cover all elements of the large body of work in affect studies, and because affect itself is a slippery concept, it is not possible to nail down with precision what it means. The focus is on how affect—alone or along with emotion—can transform normative or hegemonic masculinity and on how it can reify or reaffirm gender normativity or hegemony. Affect’s lack of fixity is part of the reason that it can reconfigure masculinities that purport or attempt to be stable and unchanging, thereby adding another model to movement-centered models of masculinities (see Reeser, 2009). Affect and emotion in dialogue Affect and emotion are not the same thing: while affect is pre-personal, emotion is primarily culturally coded. In a certain cultural context, a man may learn that he should not feel afraid, and when he talks about his emotion, he may use discursive conventions that he has been taught, essentially citing others who have spoken about similar emotions. He may imitate the words of his father or of an action-movie hero. Or, an inexpressive male may have learned that he should not express emotions in the first place, meaning that he has learned to avoid discourse on the topic. He may have learned that some emotions (e.g., anger) are acceptable for a man to express while others are not and may be coded as feminine. Relationships to emotions are crucial to the construction of masculinity, but by the time a male subject expresses an emotion (or not), something more visceral and more intense has already taken place. He has been affected by a force outside himself that he has not yet put into words, and 103 9781138056695C09.3D 104 [103–111] 20.9.2019 12:56PM Todd W. Reeser his body already may have had a physical reaction that has been transformed into a discursive expression of emotion. One contribution of affect as analytic lens, then, is to factor in the role of the body in questions related to an individual’s feeling and thereby take the role of intensity seriously. If a homophobic, sexist, white supremacist expresses his anger about gay rights, feminism, and anti-racism to another man, for instance, he may have already responded viscerally and physically to a situation related to these cultural movements. An expression of anger—because he has learned it—may not directly reflect the affective reaction but may function as a kind of retroactive justification for what he decided he was experiencing, not necessarily corresponding to what he was experiencing at the time. If he calls in to a right-wing talk radio show with an affective reaction to feminism that he has not yet put into language himself, the host of that show may explain in language what he is supposedly feeling, creating his emotion on his behalf. In cases such as these, emotions “capture” and stabilize ineffable and hard-to-pin-down affect, putting it into culturally recognizable discourse. As influential theorist Brian Massumi puts it in a well-known phrasing about capturing affect, an emotion is “the sociolinguistic fixing of the quality of an experience which is from that point onward defined as personal … the conventional, consensual point of insertion of intensity into semantically and semiotically formed progressions … It is intensity owned and recognized” (2002, p. 28). Affect may be a problem for normative or hegemonic masculinity because it reveals that a male body is not in full control, since affect affects it in unpredictable ways. Massumi writes: “actually existing, structured things live in and through that which escapes them. Their autonomy is the autonomy of affect” (2002, p. 35). The autonomy of affect may dismantle a man’s perception of his own autonomy or self-control if he does not want to live through what escapes him. Lacking control over himself may imply that he cannot assert control or power over others. His visceral reaction to feminism may be an issue for him because it implies his inability to influence the gendered situation. It may also be a problem that, as Massumi writes, “there is no cultural-theoretical vocabulary specific to affect” (2002, p. 27), meaning that a male subject may sense that he cannot use words to contain, control, and capture an affect which remains linguistically autonomous, outside his discursive control. Affective subjectivities Because affect is pre-personal and does something to a body before the articulation of what one thinks is happening, it may seem nonexistent. That seeming absence does not mean that it is not possible to express affect at all, however: the man who says that he was so angry that he could feel the blood pumping in his veins is expressing an affective reaction of corporeal intensity. Labeling something “visceral” or “beyond words” suggests affect. But affect can only be expressed retroactively, as something over and in the past, and the inability to describe affect can itself be described. A literary passage can express an affective moment, but it does so with words and may rely on describing the corporality or the inexpressibility of the experience. A film, video, or photo may depict a certain male character having a nonverbal, corporeal reaction that a viewer can sense by sight. In other words, the nondiscursive nature of affect does not mean that people will not try to represent the nondiscursivity using discourse or visual means and by extension relations between gender and affective representation. Affect and emotion do not have to be entirely separate, however, but may function as a chain, with one leading to the other. Affect can be considered in its relation to nonaffective moments over the course of time and not simply in a single moment. Using the term “affective practice” to describe a combination of affective elements, Margaret Wetherell is 104 9781138056695C09.3D 105 [103–111] 20.9.2019 12:56PM Approaching affective masculinities critical of Massumi’s idea of the autonomy of affect: for her, characteristics of affect are one element in a chain of actions and reactions in potential dialogue with discourse or captures. There are not, she writes, “discrete and separable elements that are ordered or put together but an integrated and organic unfolding and weaving” (2012, p. 89). Clare Hemmings uses the term “affective cycles,” which “form patterns that are subject to reflective or political, rather than momentary or arbitrary judgement” and which we should imagine “not as a series of repeated moments—body-affect-emotion” but as “an ongoing, incrementally altering chain—body-affect-emotion-affect-body-doubling back upon the body” (2005, p. 564, emphasis in original). For scholars like Wetherell and Hemmings, such practices or such cycles contain nonlinear oscillations of affect and emotion, of autonomy and capture, of the difficult-to-articulate and the culturally coded, or of the visceral and the noncorporeal. A scholar might consider how masculinity relates not simply to affect but also to certain kinds of cycles or patterns, or how certain affect-emotion chains recur in culture and come to constitute or buttress masculinity. The example above about a sexist man calling in to a radio show could serve as one example. An affect may be turned into an emotion, but when that cycle recurs over and over and becomes culturally legible, the cycle may become a two-part brand of sexist masculinity beyond one individual’s experience. That dyadic cycle may lead to another affective moment based in visceral rage provoked by emotional capture, adding another element to the cycle and becoming culturally legible by virtue of its repetition. Or, a man affected by affect may go on to focus exclusively on its capture, essentially forgetting that he had an affective reaction in the first place. Forgetting affect may itself be part of how masculinity functions: the articulation of anger may be a way for him to justify his lack of control as his heart pumps and he feels rage in his body that has the potential to cause loss of masculine self-control. But in such cases, it is the full unfolding that should be imagined as constituting masculinity, not one affect or one emotion in itself. At the same time, such movement-based patterns may not be culturally legible or recurring but, rather, “organic” and unpredictable. Talking about fear in culturally coded terms may be so constraining that it leads to an affective reaction because of the discursive constraint of the emotion, or not talking about feeling afraid may actually produce an intense, visceral reaction instead of taming affect. Affect’s pre-personal nature is an important element to consider. Theorists Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari describe affects as “nonsubjectified,” or as beyond subjectivity (1987, p. 262). If a sexist man’s affect, during the moment that it takes place, lies beyond gender subjectivity because it lacks the language necessary to convey gender, concerns about missing, lost, or absent masculinity in that moment may influence him to express more extreme masculinity to recuperate his perceived lack of masculinity. Conversely, nonsubjectification has the potential to transform a male subject, affecting and decomposing his masculinity. The intensity of affect may revamp his gender, moving him out of normative or hegemonic masculinity for a moment. In some circumstances, the nonsubjective characteristics of affect may dismantle masculinity for the longer term, shocking it into change. Affect can be a becoming, a movement into a new way of performing gender instead of a movement backward in a conservative mode of stasis. Gregory Seigworth and Melissa Gregg define the power of affect as “a body’s capacity to affect and to be affected” (2010, p. 2, their emphasis), meaning that a male body’s gender subjectivity can be affected and reconfigured by external forces that cannot be known or predicted in advance. Theorist Michael Hardt argues that “the production of affects, subjectivities, and forms of life present an enormous potential for autonomous circuits of valorization, and perhaps for liberation” (1999, p. 100). This potential liberation would be from, among other things, “patriarchal order” (p. 100). The not-knowing what a male body 105 9781138056695C09.3D 106 [103–111] 20.9.2019 12:56PM Todd W. Reeser can be or become offers the capacity to free male bodies and those held under a sexist regime from the patriarchal stasis that requires that male bodies remain the same and not be put into movement. The Swedish film Force Majeure could be taken to exemplify this kind of gender transformation. In this film, the normative main character Tomas has a breakdown in front of his wife and children that is coded as extremely affective. After the scene, his normative gender is reconfigured substantially, in part because it is shown to be performative and because his wife has increased agency (Reeser, 2017b). Another way to consider the transformative power of affect is to answer yes to the question asked by Jasbir Puar: “is it the case that there is something queer about affect, that affect is queer unto itself, always already a defiance of identity registers, amenable to queer critique?” (2007, p. 207). The results of affect may queer normative masculinity, leaving it not discrete but in movement or leaving it not fully heteronormative. The constraints of homophobia may create an intense affect for a heterosexual man who goes swimming with his heterosexual male friend but also feels joy being with him, such that the experience of affect has a queer element to it. Or such a man may relish affect because he appreciates the experience of queerness that moves him out of normativity. He may seek to go swimming again to relive that affect. It is also possible that affect’s potential to queer masculinity may lead this man cover up, hide, or dominate affect, as best he can. In such a case, the seeming invisibility of affect reaffirms his masculinity if he views the success of stoic masculinity as a reaffirmation of nonqueer masculinity. The man who feels joy swimming with his male friend may work extra hard to keep any affect from emerging or from being visible to his friend, not simply because of homophobia or anxiety of same-sex love but because of the queer potential of affect itself. Instead of taking affect as autonomous, it is also possible to consider affect in terms articulated by Raymond Williams, who famously coined the phrase “structure of feeling.” Art and literature are special places to find a structure of feeling, which, “because it is at the very edge of semantic availability, has many of the characteristics of a pre-formation, until specific articulations—new semantic figures—are discovered in material practice” (Williams, 1977, p. 134). When an affect is not really recognizable and does not fit easily into some predetermined category, it may be a pre-formation not yet categorizable or able to be filed away and forgotten. As Williams defines structure of feeling, it is “a social experience which is still in process, often indeed not yet recognized as social but taken to be private, idiosyncratic, and even isolating” (1977, p. 132). An affect–emotion dyad may gesture toward a gendered relationship that is not yet part of culture in a way that is widely legible. The affect that a heterosexual man experiences with his friend at the swimming pool may not be fully affective because it contains some linguistic elements. He may be able to describe some elements of his experience but in an incomplete way. That proximity to language may suggest that there is an emerging cultural relationship between men on the horizon not yet put into language, not captured by terms such as “friendship” or “love.” There may not be, as of yet, a way to explain their relationship in culturally legible terms, but that kind of interaction may be in the process of becoming culturally legible, and the affective relationship may one day be signified in emotional terms. Leaky affect What I have been discussing so far suggests two options: that affect reconfigures masculinity or that dominating affect reifies and restabilizes masculinity. There is, however, a third possibility, what I might call “leaky affect,” in which affect affects a male body but only to a limited extent. A male subject may be partially affected in a given circumstance but remain 106 9781138056695C09.3D 107 [103–111] 20.9.2019 12:56PM Approaching affective masculinities in an intermediary position between domination and full loss of subjectivity. This type of affective quasi-capture points to a release valve model of masculinity, in which a force with the potential to upend masculinity is permitted to release some pressure so that the whole system of masculinity is not obliterated. Kenneth Lonergan’s American film Manchester by the Sea (2016) emblematizes this form of affective masculinity. The main character Lee has suffered through his children’s death earlier in his life, and in the film’s narrative, his brother dies and he becomes the unwilling legal guardian of his adolescent nephew. Much of the film revolves around the question of whether he can work through his past in order to take on the responsibility for his nephew in the present. From an affective point of view, the exchanges between him and his nephew are neither full of, nor devoid of, affect; and his expression of visceral pain from his children’s death is neither fully contained nor fully released. He may seem very stoic generally, but at moments he looks slightly affected by his past or by love for his nephew. The film represents the leakiness in the opening scenes of the film as Lee, who works as a handyman, fixes a leaky toilet out of which water is dripping through a stopper. The scene conveys that what is leaking is Lee himself as his past is not stopped but drips out and affects him. Reading masculinity may entail locating elements of a seemingly stoic or unemotional masculinity when affect leaks. Such leakiness may be visible on the body, in small expressions that reveal affect in ways or in moments that are hard to locate. Sam de Boise and Jeff Hearn suggest that language and emotions do not have to be the only element of interviews that ethnographers focus on when doing work on masculinity and emotions: “Visible indicators in interviews—such as averting one’s gaze during topics, blushing, tension or irritation at certain questions, smiling when discussing a particular subject—could all be considered indicators of affective response which require classification and interpretation” (2017, p. 12). A normative man being interviewed about gender may respond affectively in one way, but then move on to respond emotionally and linguistically in another way, leaving someone else the task of determining what the affect might be or what the affective cycle or pattern might be as affect becomes affective expression which in turn becomes discursive. The masculinity of affect Deleuze and Guattari write that affect is “man’s nonhuman becoming” and that a man may become woman as he reaches “a zone of indetermination” that “precedes [his] natural differentiation” (1994, p. 173). Affect can be coded as feminine, rendering a normative man feminized because, for instance, he lacks, or is perceived to lack, the autonomy or power to resist or because he is controlled by an alien force and not by himself. In contrast, the representation of affect may be masculinized because the sheer force or energy of affect may be taken as a kind of masculine phenomenon. Deleuze and Guattari, in a key articulation of affect, define it in militaristic terms: “Affect is the active discharge of emotion, the counterattack … Affects are projectiles just like weapons … Weapons are affects and affects weapons” (1987, p. 400). The force or power of affects may affect a normative man violently, and that force or violence may in fact reconfigure masculinity after victory in a kind of battle between affect and masculinity. The whole problem of the film Force Majeure begins when Tomas runs away from his wife and two young children on the terrace of a ski lodge while having lunch because an avalanche comes dangerously close to the table. But if affect is highlighted as the center of the film, the avalanche allegorizes the masculinity of affect, a sign of what is to come later on. This example suggests that one element of studying affective masculinity is to consider not simply how affect itself may change gender but also 107 9781138056695C09.3D 108 [103–111] 20.9.2019 12:56PM Todd W. Reeser how affective representation operates as masculinity. The affect of masculinity as well as the masculinity of affect can be studied. There is an important caveat that needs to be taken into account in imagining affect as asubjective. As scholars have discussed in critiques of affect, coding affect as outside identity risks reinscribing a male norm. Clare Hemmings writes that “affective rewriting … ignor[es] the counter-hegemonic contributions of postcolonial and feminist theorists, only thereby positioning affect as ‘the answer’ to contemporary problems of cultural theory” (2005, p. 548; see also Pedwell & Whitehead, 2012). Taking affect as liberatory risks ignoring other ways in which hegemonic masculinity is dismantled. For Deborah Thien, affect theory reproduces the gendered division reason/emotion with a new binary opposition: The jettisoning of the term “emotion” in favour of the term “affect” seems compelled by an underlying revisiting … of the binary trope of emotion as negatively positioned in opposition to reason, as objectionably soft and implicitly feminized. In this conceptual positioning, these transhuman geographies re-draw yet again not only the demarcation between masculinist reason and feminized emotion, but also the false distinction between “personal” and “political” which feminist scholars have extensively critiqued. (2005, p. 452) Affect, Thien suggests, is assumed to be outside the political because it is taken as intensively personal, though it should not be separated from the political nor coded as unmarked or masculine. What I have called the masculinity of affect may reinscribe a gender binary, with emotion as feminized and affect as the agential and masculine element of the opposition. What if the autonomy or freedom characterizing affect is itself a reinscription of the supposed freedom of the normative male subject from political constraint and subjectivity? Taking affect as outside language may have the result of rendering it implicitly masculine, taking gender studies backwards to an unmarked universalism that is actually male but not explicitly coded as such. A second risk is that the autonomy of affect, as standing alone and not subject to language, permits it to become justification for sexism or for other hegemonies. In his article on men’s rights movements in North America, Jonathan Allan considers affect as potentially outside reason and thus necessarily self-evident and beyond critique: the declaring of affect is a remarkably powerful declaration precisely because it cannot be denied, that is, by turning to affect the men’s rights activists do not need to prove the truth of their claims because their affects—the feeling that it is true—trump the veracity of the thing causing the feeling. (2016, p. 27) When taken as outside culture and thus as true, affect may allow for gender hegemonies to be conveniently forgotten, and that supposed blank slate may be used for other ends that privilege men and masculinity in new ways. Transmitting affective masculinity Affect positions the body in a broad swath of forces as a given body receives and then passes on affect. As Seigworth and Gregg note, “affect marks a body’s belonging to a world of encounters” (2010, p. 2). Affective energies or intensities may transmit from another source 108 9781138056695C09.3D 109 [103–111] 20.9.2019 12:56PM Approaching affective masculinities that may or may not be human through a male body into another human or non-human body, a phenomenon that Teresa Brennan terms “the transmission of affect” (2004). The energy of a gay man’s drag performance may pass into a normative heterosexual male body, affecting it in ways predicated not on homophobia or transphobia but on a new gender subjectivity that may be hard to characterize at all. Or, the violent energy of a football match in a stadium or on television may be transmitted to a male body in a way that renders him violent. He may in turn transmit that affect to other bodies. In such cases, the transmission of affect may be experienced as disrupting masculine autonomy or as intensifying the masculinity of a male body. Affect does not have to simply be related to what a single body undergoes but may define the relationship or encounter between people. In a difficult-to-handle exchange between two or more people, it may suggest the recognition of subjectivities new to the perceiver in a given situation, including one’s own. If, for example, a heterosexual cisgender man asks a transwoman out on a date and then she tells him that she is transgender, an intensely awkward affect lingering silently in the air may be the impetus for a recognition on his part of a gendered subjectivity that he may not have previously seen as involved in his dating life. In this way, affect can open up new gendered configurations or relations for the man who is not invested in maintaining heterosexual masculinity as stable and who is willing to let himself be affected in new ways. This man may undo what dating means for him or what his heterosexuality or his masculinity means. He may question what it means to be “a woman.” But the same awkward affect may also, conversely, lead to the covering up of difference and be taken as an excuse to move on and to forget that intense moment when he did not know what to do or say. This hypothetical man may simply excuse himself and remain firmly within his fixed definitions of gender and sexual subjectivity, on guard to keep the same situation from ever arising in the future. Instead of opening up new gendered possibilities, the articulation of awkward affect may eclipse them and offer carte blanche to ignore them. Such affective moments not only arise in daily life but also can be invented or staged for the very same reasons. Creating lingering affects that do not get resolved or that do not get immediately resolved can be a representational strategy to invite those who witness the affect to call attention to the potentiality of gender and to think about or experience gender in new ways. Ineffable moments of visceral potentiality can have the effect of revisioning masculinity away from its normativity or its hegemony, of putting it into motion, or of queering it. The notion that with and through affect, we do not know what a body can do, or that affect opens up potentialities, has important implications for masculinity studies. On the one hand, affective representations can be lingering moments that aim to influence the stasis and boundedness of normative masculinity, opening it up to new configurations through specific affects such as awkwardness (Reeser, 2017a). Creating affects of this kind can be what Massumi calls “a pragmatic politics of the in-between,” which opens up the potential for the recognition of new forms of relating (2015, p. 18). Such a political gesture is not an identity politics but a relational mode of transformation. On the other hand, however, affect may be evoked and allowed to circulate, but then dominated by ending its movement or transmission. One way to assert masculinity is to go through a bipartite process in which affect is evoked in order to be contained. The international TV prank show Awkward Jokers is one example of a cultural representation in which normative men aim to create for other men very awkward public affects that have to be dominated, and the domination of awkwardness is tied to asserting or maintaining normative masculinity and not becoming feminized or queer. Those revisionary moments 109 9781138056695C09.3D 110 [103–111] 20.9.2019 12:56PM Todd W. Reeser may be temporary, contained, and evoked only to be effaced, serving to reinforce the normativity of masculinity in a more pernicious way than without them (Reeser, 2017a). Reading the ambiguity of affect It may not always be possible to determine whether masculinity is affected and opened up to new possibilities, whether it is closed off, or whether it is queered or re-rendered normative. In particular, it may be a viewer’s own hermeneutic or way of seeing masculinity that creates the narrative of masculinity. The slipperiness of affect may permit slipperiness in how affective masculinity is read and understood, opening up an interpretive space of confusion or ambiguity. In other cases, ambiguity around affect may be the focus of the representation of masculinity. As an example, I might cite US photographer Richard Renaldi’s book Touching Strangers (2014), a collection of photos in which two perfect strangers are invited to pose for the camera as they touch. By virtue of the subject matter, the photos all stand in some inherent relationship to awkward affect: two strangers being asked to touch, and pose for the camera, is inherently awkward and may look this way to the viewer. The photos themselves capture a moment in time in which two strangers are forced to relate to each other. Some of the photos convey a visible image of comfort in strangeness that brings people together across divides of visible forms of identity such as race/ethnicity, religion, age, or ablebodiedness. But in other cases, it is unclear what the momentary affect is or how it has come about, particularly when two male bodies are touching each other. In one photo, a thin man of color in a green tank top touches a larger white man wearing a cowboy hat, with an American flag in the background (Renaldi, 2014, p. 11). The difficulty of the touch is palpable but not discursive, and the viewer may consider why. Their awkwardness is not overcome, but the intersubjective affect calls attention to the affect of male–male relations as invented and open-ended if viewers craft a narrative about the image based on the details that strike them. One viewer may invent a narrative about homophobia, another about repressed attraction, another about geography, another about race, etc. Because the photos invite a story on the part of the viewer, the image of masculinity has many possible discursive outcomes, allowing for any number of gender configurations to jump out of the frame. It is the hermeneutic open-endedness that permits multiple narratives around masculinity to emerge, driving home that discursive captures are necessarily interpretive and do not reflect an essence about masculinity. But as I have suggested in this chapter, open-endedness is only one characteristic of the relationship between masculinity and affect, and scholars should be on guard to constantly seek out the multiplicity of ways in which affect functions vis-à-vis masculinity, never assuming that it takes only one form. References Allan, J. A. (2016). Phallic affect, or why men’s rights activists have feelings. Men and Masculinities, 19(1), 22–41. Brennan, T. (2004). The transmission of affect. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Clough, P. T. (Ed.). (2007). The affective turn: Theorizing the social. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. de Boise, S., & Hearn, J. (2017). Are men getting more emotional? Critical sociological perspectives on men, masculinities and emotions. 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Terrorist assemblages: Homonationalism in queer times. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Reeser, T. W. (2009). Masculinities in theory. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell. Reeser, T. W. (2017a). Producing awkwardness: Affective labour and masculinity in popular culture. Mosaic: An Interdisciplinary Critical Journal, 50(4), 51–69. Reeser, T. W. (2017b). Theorizing the masculinity of affect. In J. M. Armengol, M. Bosch-Vilarrubias, À. Carabí, & T. Requena-Pelegrí (Eds.), Masculinities and literary studies: Intersections and new directions (pp. 109–119). New York: Routledge. Renaldi, R. (2014). Touching strangers. New York: Aperture. Seigworth, G. J., & Gregg, M. (2010). An inventory of shimmers. In M. Gregg & G. J. Seigworth (Eds.), The affect theory reader (pp. 1–25). Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Thien, D. (2005). After or beyond feeling? A consideration of affect and emotion in geography. Area, 37(4), 450–454. Wetherell, M. (2012). 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Oxford: Oxford University Press. 111 9781138056695PRE.3D 3 [1–22] 24.9.2019 8:08PM Routledge International Handbook of Masculinity Studies Edited by Lucas Gottzén, Ulf Mellström and Tamara Shefer EDITORIAL SECRETARY MARINETTE GRIMBEEK 9781138056695PRE.3D 4 [1–22] 24.9.2019 8:08PM First published 2020 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 selection and editorial matter, Lucas Gottzén, Ulf Mellström and Tamara Shefer; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Lucas Gottzén, Ulf Mellström and Tamara Shefer to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. 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