Explore the vast range of titles available.

Soldier, spy, politician, bestselling thriller writer, and governor general of Canada — John Buchan was a man of many seasons and talents. An accomplished Scottish journalist, soldier, head of intelligence, and Member of Parliament, John Buchan (1875-1940) is best known for penning thrillers such as The Thirty-Nine Steps. However, as Canada's 15th governor general (1935-40), Buchan, 1st Baron Tweedsmuir, played a significant leadership role as a statesman and diplomat. Buchan was the first governor general appointed after the 1931 Statute of Westminster, which gave Canada constitutional equality with Britain. He worked tirelessly for Canadian unity and promoted the sovereignty, and loyalty to the sovereign, of Canada. In 1937 he founded the Governor General's Awards, still Canada's premier prizes for literary achievement. Lord Tweedsmuir helped draw Canada, Britain, and the United States closer together to strengthen the democracies threatened by Nazism and Fascism. He was an inspiration to several of his successors and still inspires us today.

Joseph Conrad scholars will have no trouble in recognizing the similarities of the main plot of John Buchan's novel, The Island Sheep, with Conrad's own novel, Victory. The Island Sheep was published in 1936, a dozen years after Conrad's death and 21 years after the publication of Victory. Kerr examines the congruence and similarities of these two novels.

The fear of a secret Jewish conspiracy that dominates and manipulates the political economy began not long after the Emancipation from the ghettos, and was formalized over a century ago in the Tsarist forgery known as the Protocols of the Elders of Zion. That document itself has been shredded of credibility, but the animating idea of a Jewish cabal continues to show some life. The figure who inadvertently keeps that fantasy alive is the octogenarian financier George Soros (b. 1930), and the attacks upon his ideas and influence are inflected with the paranoid style that had given birth to the discredited Protocols.

The phrase seems to be a reference to Peace at Once, an anti-war pamphlet written by Bloomsbury Group member Clive Bell and published in 1915. Bloomsbury was particularly enthusiastic about Russian culture.2 With the Russian expatriate, Samuel Koteliansky, both Woolfs translated some Russian authors into English.3 Buchan may well have been aware that Virginia Woolf had already written in praise of Russian fiction in a 1918 essay, \"The Russian View.\" [...]I suppose, comes our slight contempt for men of action-men, we assume, who don't think\" (9). Buchan shared many of Hannay's views about the innovations occurring in art and literature during and after the First World War, admitting that, \"the rebels and experimentalists for the most part left me cold\" and \"the modern work most loudly acclaimed my traditionalist mind is simply not competent to judge at all\" (Memory 202, 203).

Ng opines about John Buchan's war novels, including the Thirty-Nine Steps, Greenmantle, and Mr. Standfast. Among other things, he assesses that Buchan's novels are generally confined by the imperatives of espionage fiction and it is easy to overlook the fact that his lonely, restless male characters are the clear forerunners of the espionage existential hero and the ultimate outsider.

In this article, I discuss the literary uses of witches and witchcraft in two British novels of the mid-1920s, in the social context of the contemporaneous fashion for the occult: Sylvia Townsend Warner's Lolly Willowes (1926) and John Buchan's Witch Wood (1927). I hope to show that these novels employ witchcraft as their defining theme, to function as a symbol for non-conformity to society's norms. In both novels non-conformity also acts as an extreme of belief, that rejects the Christian belief system altogether, and uses witchcraft as the means to worship a higher power. Paradoxically, despite witchcraft being routinely used as a symbol of corruption, in these novels the witches are agents of free will. The importance of both novelists' use of fantasy in mediating their ideas about resisting social pressure through non-conformist acts is that fantasy, and the Gothic, make difficult ideas more palatable to the public.

[...]since a book-historical perspective encourages us to move beyond published sources, I will evaluate Prester John's relationship with Buchan's incomplete novel, \"The Mountain.\" In imperialist literature, as J. S. Bratton observes, accessible heroes reassure \"the reader that he can do his bit perfectly well by being a decent average sort of chap\" (84). [...]in the context of Edwardian fears concerning national inadequacy, moral decadence and social dissolution - an important background for Buchan's African writings - a more widely relatable character would have greater efficacy among the reading public.12 It is also significant that Buchan alters his hero's nationality. [...]Sir Anthony Burlingham complains that Drake has \"spoilt everything\" in East Africa with his \"infernal railways\" and \"infernal native labour.\" Since his company had \"started to exploit a land they had had no business in,\" blowing the \"natives\" \"off the face of the earth,\" Drake \"should have been hanged for murder\" (47-48). Having been written for the Two-Shilling series of novels, it was involved in the firm's attempt to enter the market for new copyright literature at a competitive price.

If responder bids one of a major and is raised by opener to two of that major, responder passes with nine losers, insists on game with seven losers, and makes a game-try with eight losers. So, here, South, over two spades, continues with three clubs. Then North should jump to four spades because he has good clubs, two aces and four-card spade support.

How is knowledge about religion and religions produced, and how is that knowledge authenticated and circulated? David Chidester seeks to answer these questions in Empire of Religion, documenting and analyzing the emergence of a science of comparative religion in Great Britain during the second half of the nineteenth century and its complex relations to the colonial situation in southern Africa. In the process, Chidester provides a counterhistory of the academic study of religion, an alternative to standard accounts that have failed to link the field of comparative religion with either the power relations or the historical contingencies of the imperial project. In developing a material history of the study of religion, Chidester documents the importance of African religion, the persistence of the divide between savagery and civilization, and the salience of mediations—imperial, colonial, and indigenous—in which knowledge about religions was produced. He then identifies the recurrence of these mediations in a number of case studies, including Friedrich Max Müller's dependence on colonial experts, H. Rider Haggard and John Buchan's fictional accounts of African religion, and W. E. B. Du Bois's studies of African religion. By reclaiming these theorists for this history, Chidester shows that race, rather than theology, was formative in the emerging study of religion in Europe and North America. Sure to be controversial, Empire of Religion is a major contribution to the field of comparative religious studies.