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Scheming, extorting, menacing and general evilness are nothing new in the world of villainy - indeed it's expected. But there are codes of conduct. Until now. In an attempt to purge the Global League of Villainous Enterprises of its more destructive elements, Dr Nero has underestimated the cunning and resources of those who oppose him. Meanwhile, Otto and the rest of the Alpha stream have been sent to begin their most feared exercise: The Hunt, in the icy wastes of Siberia. But there is a traitor in their midst. The first strike against Nero will be a strike against the Alpha stream. Villain-kind is on the brink of civil war.

This book is a fictional account of the life of German film and theatre actor Werner Krauss, eponymous star of the classic silent film The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari. Upon gaining worldwide recognition in this film, Krauss was co-opted into the Nazi hate campaign of the 1930s and 1940s. He featured in the vicious propaganda film Jud Suss, and he was complicit in giving anti-Semitic performances onstage, most notably as Shylock in Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice. The book focuses on three distinct eras in Krauss' life: the struggling, exuberant actor of the 1920s; the philandering pragmatist of the 1930s; and the elderly, neurotic outcast of the 1940s. Despite his honourable intentions, Krauss was all-too-often undermined by his inability to say no to women, alcohol and the egregious Joseph Goebbels. In this fictional re-imagining of his life, Krauss' motives and decisions are explored in an attempt to discover why he collaborated with the Nazis in the way that he did, as well as demonstrating the personal and political consequences of his actions. As someone who was influenced by the Nazi regime, and, in turn, influential in perpetuating their message, Krauss' story tells the wider story of the role of the arts and media in Nazi Germany. Extensively researched, including contemporary news stories, archived film material, critical essays on Krauss and translated passages from his autobiography, Das Schauspiel Meines Lebens, this fictional reconstruction of Krauss' life and career is preceded by a substantive Introduction by the author, setting the novel in the context of the genre of Holocaust fiction, emulating and reminiscent of Christopher Isherwood's Goodbye to Berlin and Thomas Keneally's Schindler's Ark.

Pearl Abraham's 2010 novel American Taliban uses the “true” story of John Walker Lindh, a white US citizen captured fighting for the Taliban in Afghanistan in 2001, to reflect on the intense mediation of public trauma in the early days of the “War on Terror.” This article discusses the significance of American Taliban as a post-“9/11” work of literary fiction which, by imagining individual agency and interrogating the relationship between a racialized “Americanness,” treason and sovereignty, invites its readers to be critical of historical, political and media narratives in the so-called “post-truth era.”

When British intelligence agent Magnus Pym disappears, two desperate searches are initiated--the hunt of agents, East and West, for the missing spy and Pym's own quest to uncover the mysteries of his own past.

Focuses on how coverture shapes our imagination of marriage in ways that make violence seem inevitable. In debates about battered women who kill, ghosts still haunt attempts to understand the extent of a wife's agency and its relation to the violence she both endures and enacts. As films and novels about marital violence reveal, the zero-sum game of coverture survives as a narrative rather than a legal fiction. These stories seem new - since the murderous wives do not end up in prison - yet are not new enough because they still imagine marriage as inherently violent. Because unity of person was always a fiction, perhaps it is not surprising that it endures as one. Asks how it structures the very stories we tell and by which we impose shape on experience. (Original abstract - amended)

\"As beautiful as it may be, their friends' country home is not where Lady Vespasia wishes to spend Christmas with her new husband, Victor Narraway. She'd rather pass a relaxing holiday at home with him--especially because Victor, former head of the London Special Branch, seems to be hiding some undercover dealings with the other guests who have gathered in the spacious home. As tensions grow among the couples, the young and beautiful Iris Watson-Watt becomes the center of several men's focus. Unbeknownst to Vespasia, Iris carries a message for Victor that may help unmask a British traitor. As Victor plots his moves, he is reminded of a similar case from twenty years before, when a young Frenchwoman also carried a clandestine message--one that resulted in her murder, still unsolved to this day. Victor has always been tormented by his failure to protect her--and now, with all eyes on Iris, Victor must act fast before history repeats itself. With the joy of Christmas at risk of being forgotten and Vespasia feeling alone on this holiday meant to be shared with loved ones, Victor must ultimately learn to forgive himself\"-- Provided by publisher.

Dans l’histoire de la répression judiciaire des années 1950 en Tchécoslovaquie, deux grands procès se détachent, ceux de Horáková (juin 1950) et de Slánský (décembre 1952). Si le premier a eu un intense retentissement international que l’autre n’a pas vraiment connu, tous deux ont ceci en commun d’avoir été l’objet d’une campagne de propagande hors du commun. Pour mettre les projecteurs sur les prétendus traîtres à la nation de ces deux affaires, (trois femmes et dix hommes dans le cas Horáková, onze hommes dans le cas Slánský), tous les canaux disponibles furent mobilisés. Tous pourtant ne jouèrent pas le même rôle. La presse, la radio et le réseau des comités locaux du PCT furent des instruments capitaux. Pas le cinéma. En dépit de l’imposant dispositif de tournage déployé lors des audiences, aucune des images tournées au tribunal de Pankrác en 1950 ou 1952 ne fut montrée à l’époque. En 1968, dans le contexte du Printemps de Prague, quelques plans du procès Slánský réapparurent, repris ensuite dans de nombreux documentaires. Jusqu’en 1989, ce furent les seules images d’archives sur ce procès, dont la mémoire fut surtout véhiculée par le truchement d’une fiction, l’adaptation par Costa-Gavras de L’Aveu (1970), témoignage d’un des trois rescapés du procès Slánský, Artur London et de sa femme Lise London. Après la chute du communisme, la redécouverte des archives filmiques du procès Horáková en 1990 livra une profusion d’images qui offrit d’autres visages que celui de Slánský ou d’Yves Montand (jouant London) pour rappeler ces procès. La découverte de celles du procès Slánský, près de vingt ans plus tard, ne fit qu’accentuer l’intérêt très vif des historiens ou des documentaristes pour ce type de sources. La valorisation intense des ressources audio-visuelles des procès Horáková et Slánský après 1989 contraste avec l’usage qu’en firent les communistes en 1950 et 1952. Le changement de contexte politique après 1989 ne peut à lui seul expliquer l’ampleur de ce contraste. L’objectif de cet article est d’éclairer les raisons des usages et non-usages des sources filmiques de ces deux procès depuis les années 1950 jusqu’à aujourd’hui. Dans une première partie, c’est la place assignée au cinéma dans les procès à grand spectacle qui est interrogée. En revenant sur les dispositifs concrets de médiatisation de ces deux procès, il s’agit d’identifier la place qu’y occupèrent les différents médias et, à travers eux, de mesurer l’impact du texte, du son et de l’image dans de tels dispositifs. Dans une deuxième partie, après un rappel des conditions dans lesquelles les traces filmiques des deux procès ont été redécouvertes après 1989, c’est le processus de réappropriation de ces images qui est étudié, mais surtout leur contenu concret, afin de comprendre la façon dont elles ont été tournées et montées avant d’être soustraites aux regards. Une troisième partie interroge les raisons d’une si longue occultation de ces sources audio-visuelles. Il s’agit d’essayer de comprendre pourquoi ces images sont restées cachées si longtemps, y compris dans les périodes de révision ou du dégel, quand tant d’autres documents avaient refait surface et avaient circulé plus ou moins librement.

(Science fiction. 7-9)

(Historical fiction. 13-18)