This chapter explores the actual reading event. It considers what kinds of pleasure readers seek from book reading and rereading (in different settings and at different times), and the ways in which an e-book does or does not deliver such satisfactions. Examining aspects such as tactile dimensions of embodied reading, the role of the material object, convenience and access, optimisation and customisation, and narrative immersion, it contextualises original findings with recent empirical research on screen reading and offers insights on how, where, and when intimacy, sense of achievement, and the feeling of being ‘lost in a book’ can be found in e-reading. Pleasures such as immersion and sense of achievement appear to be impeded by digital for some readers but facilitated for others. The chapter further examines how an e-book can be framed as an incomplete book (frequently as ‘content’ or ‘story’ and hence the ‘most important part’) without losing its power to satisfy.

The presence of race is seemingly obvious in American literature. Yet many readers either misunderstand the role it plays or simply don’t pay attention to it as a subject worthy of analysis. Written in language accessible for both the undergraduate and graduate classroom, this chapter targets such misapprehension. It first makes a series of arguments diagnosing the phenomenon of racial misapprehension, including the way whiteness purports to racelessness, the overreliance on a Black–white binary, the multiple different meanings of race across time, and the influence played by race and racialization within histories seemingly distanced from racial identity. Second, it suggests methods for apprehending and interpreting racial meaning, focusing specifically on genres and tropes. Both constitute key pathways through which race enters literary texts and through which literary texts, in turn, come to inform how their readers think about and perceive race.

This chapter illuminates how camp conceives reading in affective terms. Camp diminishes the intensity of strong affects, such as shame, anxiety, and rage, to make room for relief, laughter, and even sexual interest. In this way, camp protects queer eroticism from being snuffed out by a wide range of phobic discourses. While scholars often oppose camp to sexual desire, I trace different orientations to eroticism that arise in in lesbian, queer of color, and trans camp. As examples, I turn to three camp touchstones, Djuna Barnes’s Ladies Almanack (1928), Tommy Pico’s Junk (2018), and Torrey Peters’ “CisWorld (2019), which each seduce readers into scenes of pleasure. For these writers, campiness does not deflate queer and trans desires but makes them narratable and available for readers. In doing so, these texts demonstrate how camp dreams of a queerer social order, and it shields these fantasies from the suffocating forces of white supremacy and cis-heteronormativity. Making affective scenes for queer fantasy, I conclude, is a powerful if still under-appreciated force of camp’s poetics and politics.

Chapter 36 reflects on the ways in which Goethe’s meaning and value have evolved. Analysis of Goethe’s legacy and reception demands that we attend to the historical situation of the readers too, and that we remain alert to the role of politics in shaping responses to and uses of his work. The chapter considers Goethe’s afterlife in a variety of contexts, from his prominence in German secondary education between 1871 and 1914 to the mixed feelings of German-Jewish readers in the 1930s. It also analyses Goethe’s own interventions in his reception.

In this chapter, we discuss the way people read, remember and understand discourse, depending on the type of relations that link discourse segments together. We also illustrate the role of connectives and other discourse signals as elements guiding readers’ interpretation. Throughout the chapter, we review empirical evidence from experiments that involve various methodologies such as offline comprehension tasks, self-paced reading, eye-tracking and event related potentials. One of the major findings is that not all relations are processed and remembered in the same way. It seems that causal relations play a special role for creating coherence in discourse, as they are processed more quickly and remembered better. Conversely, because they are highly expected, causal relations benefit less from the presence of connectives compared to discontinuous relations like concession and confirmation. Finally, research shows that in their native language, speakers are able to take advantage of all sorts of connectives for discourse processing, even those restricted to the written mode, and those that are ambiguous.

In Chapter 5, I follow this lead further and demonstrate that one of the most prominent sites where this new aesthetic regime and its colonial history was articulated most forcefully was the nineteenth-century French novel. Discussing Jacques Rancière’s influential work on novels by Balzac and Flaubert and his suggestion of the new idea of literature emerging through the “democratic petrification” of writing, this chapter shows how the context of such a development in France was historically much wider than developments within its national borders. Instead of thinking the historicity of literature through Europe alone, this chapter shows how the literary sovereign shaped the central ideas of textualization and readability through colonial documents, translations, textual representation of the orient, and so on. This textual history is then embedded within larger registers of visuality in contemporary French cultures that extended the colonial paradigm further.

In Chapter 1, I explore in detail – through official and personal papers, published translations, letters exchanged between colonial officials, prefaces and commentaries, and so on – how the Company officials, in close collaboration with their local pandits and munshis, produced a tradition of what I call ethnographic recension that anchored an ethnographic world within the very space of a legal or literary text. Coming between the Renaissance humanists such as Politian, Desiderius Erasmus, and Joseph Scaliger on the one hand and nineteenth-century textual scholars such as Karl Lachmann on the other, these colonial administrators introduced a new model of textual authority by combining philology and ethnology that was the first move to mark the newness of colonial knowledge. This ethnographic world was seen as a guarantor of textual authenticity, but its very inclusion set off the dual career of the literary sovereign – its role in defining what is literary, and its participation in political sovereignty.

provides background material on the nature of human language and how it differs from animal communication, as well as a brief history of reading and how it differs from oral language. The chapter also reviews the methods that are being used to study the mental processes that support reading, including various behavioral tasks (e.g., lexical decision), eye tracking, and brain imaging. The chapter also reviews two influential computer models of reading that have been adapted to Chinese: the Interactive-Activation model of word identification, and the E-Z Reader model of eye-movement control in reading. The chapter closes with previews of the remaining chapters.

Focusing on contemporary life writing of chronic pain, specifically lyric essays, this chapter explores the language of pain, refuting its untranslatability, and suggesting that creative forms and experimental expression are helping to develop language to meet experience. Recent illness narratives are building a common language with which to articulate their physical sensations, with Eula Biss’s ‘The Pain Scale’ (2005) encouraging a community of pain expression, and becoming a generative intertext. While pain sufferers reclaim their experiences, they are also reclaiming and renewing diagnostic vocabulary, for example through ‘subterfuge‘, which requires readers to better engage in attentive listening, with an ethical obligation not to overlook or mishear marginalized voices. Alongside Biss, this chapter explores the work of Amy Berkowitz, Molly McCully Brown, Anne Boyer, Sinéad Gleeson, Sonya Huber, and Lisa Olstein.

In the 1980s, a theoretical turn in African American literary criticism helped institutionalize the study of African American literature by insisting on its formal complexity and distinctiveness. The racial text could no longer be read as reducible to its social context. In that same decade, a materialist line of inquiry sought to reconcile formal and contextual analysis by examining the ways black-authored books were published by major companies and received by the critical establishment. Drawing on methods from book history and print culture studies, a sociology of African American literature developed as the academic field of study took shape around canon-building projects. Two approaches to African American literary sociology emerged out of the 1990s: skepticism about the book’s capacity to represent racial experience, and optimism about the commercial success of diverse authors. Over time, these approaches merged into general studies of the racial text’s shifting status in the literary marketplace. With that expanded focus, the sociology of African American literature today sheds light on the way culture and commerce intersect in the making, selling, and reading of black-authored books.