This introductory chapter treats the early history of Rome’s literature, who was interested in the topic and when, and also how they approached the subject. It notes that from the start Roman literature was deeply imitative of Greek, and that the other peoples of the Italian peninsula also played important roles in the creation of a native literature. Indeed, many of the original writers of Rome were non-Romans. Covers the epics of Livius Andronicus, Naevius, and Ennius.

In 2016, the Australian literary world was abuzz with rage when celebrated writer Yassmin Abdel-Magied walked out of the opening keynote address to the Brisbane Writers Festival. The speech was being delivered by Orange Prize-winner Lionel Shriver, American activist and author of such works as We Need to Talk About Kevin (2003) and The Mandibles (2016).

Abdel-Magied, Queensland”s Australian of the Year in 2015, in an article for The Guardian, described the speech as “a poisoned package wrapped up in arrogance and delivered with condescension“, because Shriver”s speech, “was a monologue about the right to exploit the stories of “others”, simply because it is useful for one”s story [book].”

This, in essence, is how the topic of cultural appropriation – or, rather, misappropriation – came to mainstream attention in Australia, but of course it had been a bone of contention for many Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander writers and writers of colour for decades.

Chapter 4 seeks to understand the logic of cultural rehabilitation as it applies to aspects of indigenous belief, knowledge and practice denigrated by colonialism and apartheid. This chapter situates the concept of indigenous knowledge in relation to that of the ‘indigenous resource base’ as formulated by Ato Quayson. Similar to other African writers, authors like Zakes Mda, Thando Mgqolozana and Diale Tlholwe make judicious use of this resource base, incorporating elements of myth, folklore and ritual into their narratives, thereby encouraging recuperation and healing. Recuperative elements in the works of these novelists are, somewhat paradoxically, also linked with a cosmopolitanism sensibility. In the final part of the chapter I consider the varying ways white writers like Brett Bailey, André P. Brink and Marguerite Poland have drawn on African myth, belief and ritual practice for their own purposes.

Embedded in histories of regional and international trade, colonialism and globalisation, fashion in Africa today is diverse and multidirectional, responding to and interacting with transglobal inspirations. But local design initiatives operate largely from within the continent’s informal economies with little professional and technical training and financial support. Highlighting knotty questions about the construction of ‘African’ in dress and fashion practice, including issues about cultural appropriation and authenticity, focus turns on the local meaning of the types of dress practices showcased in this book, especially chitenge fashions, and the changing place of African print fabric in fashion design and everyday dress practice in Zambia. Because the popular media frequently confuse types of printed textiles when describing African fabrics, brief overview distinctions are presented between types of printed textiles. The final discussion concerns the interaction between small-scale tailoring and the emerging fashion and design scene in Lusaka, raising questions about their future.

My aim in this chapter is to explore a somewhat loosely related set of referents that are all facets of a larger one that we might best characterize as ‘a way of social life.’ I will use ‘culture’ as a cover term for this larger referent, fully aware of the perennial difficulties of defining culture rigorously and speaking of it univocally.1

This chapter explores Alexander’s legacy in early Christian literature, arguing that the Christians appropriated his figure by means of subtle alterations to existing tales or comparisons of his deeds with Christian content. It focuses on the common ground between Christians and non-Christians, and looks at first, the classicising ‘pagans’ (Celsus, Porphyry, Julian); secondly, the Greek-writing Jewish authors (Philo of Alexandria, Flavius Josephus); and, thirdly, authors of the Christian comparative material. In each case, I show how Christian authors use either established or innovative strategies in deploying Alexander as a rhetorical device to enhance the effect of their argument. I offer several close readings of important if neglected passages to highlight how different the Christians’ presentations of Alexander actually are from the material they are adapting. The chapter suggests the ‘Christianisation’ of Alexander lies primarily in the Christians’ interpretation of his legacy and in their use of comparative material rather than in their development of a wholly new image for Alexander himself.

This chapter analyzes the fate of the horseman in the aftermath of the fall of Constantinople. Ottoman Sultan Mehmed II understood the horseman’s power and strove to neutralize it soon after entering the city. In the decades before 1453, it was also widely believed to have been an anti-Ottoman talisman. At some point between May of 1453 and spring 1456 Mehmed ordered the horseman to be removed from its column. I argue that this decision was made not only because of the great symbolic value of the monument in its own right, but also in order not to complicate the transformation of Hagia Sophia into a mosque. Justinian’s bronze horseman was decoupled from Hagia Sophia and sacrificed for the sake of the building’s cultural appropriation as the mosque of Aya Sofya. The horseman is absent from official Ottoman histories, but appears in the translations of the Narrative on the Construction of Hagia Sophia produced for Mehmed II. In this retelling, the talismanic horseman has become empty-handed. This was a decisive reorientation of the Byzantine narrative. Though Şemseddin Mehmed Karamani’s testimony that the horseman was melted down in the 1450s would appear to be conclusive, in the 1550s Pierre Gilles saw and measured fragments of the horseman.

Carmen is currently one of the most frequently performed Western operas in Japan where the character of Carmen has become widely known. This chapter explores the complex processes of assimilating and integrating a Western icon into the culture of a Far-Eastern country. It begins by establishing a chronology of performances and adaptations of Carmen in Japan between 1885 and 1945, and examines in detail: 1, the first performance of the opera by a Russian company in 1919; 2, the first all-Japanese-cast production in 1922; 3, the contribution of mixed-race singers such as Yoshiko Sato (1909−1982) and Yosie Fujiwara (1898−1976); and 4, Japan’s eventual role as a disseminator of occidental music to other Asian countries.

These encounters between Carmen and Japan raise fascinating issues of race, gender, class, hybridity and proto-globalisation. By embracing the ‘Otherness’ of Carmen, the Japanese were not asserting their distance from the West but rather attempting to access its mainstream. In this way, by striving to incorporate its Western ‘Other’, Japan embarked upon a shift towards a globalised world.