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This live comic book anthology contains three irreverent comedies that hilariously skewer well-beloved genres. Hard-boiled paranormal detective Jake Misco takes on the case of a mysterious stranger who is haunted by her dead husband; a Cold War-era crime-fighting duo struggles to save America from the throes of Communism while questioning their own principles; and a teenage warrior princess named Tina must fight evil Zombie cheerleaders and the tedium of French class.

[...]in sacrificial tragi-comedy, the in-group is suffering some sort of devastation - prototypically, drought and famine (or, less often, epidemic disease). Ultimately, it is Orlok's arrival in Visborg that brings the plague to that town. [...]it is the entry of the Eastern European alien - specifically, the alien who is associated with Jewish tradition - into the heart of one's 'home', the entry of this foreigner as one's 'neighbor', that leads to the destruction of the home society. Audience members necessarily linked the events and characters of the film with pre-existing prototypes (e.g., regarding Jews or immigration). [...]they tacitly drew these connections in the context of persistent anxieties regarding the devastation of their society, anxieties that were already likely to prime a sacrificial prototype. [...]I am grateful to the guest editors of this issue, Daniel Barratt and Jonathan Frome, for their very helpful suggestions for improving and clarifying the essay.

Studies of street crime and street culture often emphasize the concept of fatalism, particularly among urban minority males. Cinematic representations of fatalistic attitudes in White characters (particularly males) are often individually pathologized and presented through narratives of romance and desirability (e.g., the brooding vampire or detective in the crime noire genre). Some criminologists have operationalized fatalism in relation to delinquency and criminality with respect to control maintenance, which can serve as a starting point for developing a more nuanced understanding of fatalistic deviance represented in entertainment media. However, very little scholarly attention has called into question the distinctive portrayals and pathologies of fatalism between racialized versus White groups in such accounts. Through content analysis of film, the current study examines entertainment media portrayals of fatalism in White and non-White characters. This examination yields results that suggest both race and class play a role in the differential pathologization of fatalism (i.e., individual versus social and cultural) of these groups. By integrating these findings with a review of the extant literature on fatalism, this inquiry suggests that some similar stereotypes and pathologizations may exist in scholarly work that purports a link between fatalism and street culture and crime.

In this essay, I will examine the image of the Chinese man as vampiric entity in the novella La cortina de bambú (1949) by Chilean writer Diego Barros Ortiz (1908-1990). This narrative explores twentieth-century fears of the changing social climate of a modernizing South America. These suspicions stem from the Eurocentric worldview explored in the ideologies and literature regarding the Yellow Peril and through horror novels such as Bram Stoker's Dracula (1897), considered the exemplary vampire narrative of the late nineteenth century. I claim that the vampiric description of the Chinese male in La cortina de bambú reflects the anxieties related to the perceived threat of immigrants to Euro-centric criollo hegemony. The essay will begin with an overview of the Western description of the Other during the first half of the twentieth century and then I will explore the ways in which Barros Ortiz employs the image of the vampire to reinforce white male supremacy ideologies that pervade Western culture. La cortina de bambú serves as a warning against outside influences on the white patriarchal tradition including a stance that favors the domesticity and subjugation of the female as well as the eradication of non-European immigrants.

Born in 1951 and raised in San Francisco, Bigelow was trained in the arts; first in the San Francisco Art Institute and then at the Whitney Museum in New York. She found herself bored with what she called the “elitist limitations” of traditional visual arts, so with a group of other avant-garde painters and sculptors Bigelow started dabbling in film as an expressive medium. The passion struck immediately and lasted. Bigelow enrolled in Columbia University’s Graduate School of Film, where she studied under Milos Forman. In 1978 she completed her first project, Set-Up, a much-praised short film chronicling a violent

[...]chapter 5, \"Rehabilitative Logic: Sex, Work, Procreation, and Vampires in Pearl Cleage's Just Wanna Testify (2011),\" considers the novel \"as a commentary on how to rehabilitate or remedy the intra-communal problems that debilitate and destroy African American communities\" (xxxiii) and also provides a reading of the book as a revision of The Arabian Nights. [...]despite providing a model of independence for African American women, the Strong Black Woman can also be considered a monolithic stereotype in which anger is channeled in \"a socially acceptable direction\" (121). According to Parker, the book was written with the college-aged reader in mind and, although it is also addressed to a wider readership, its simple syntax (at times a little repetitive in structure, but certainly linear in the exposition of the topics) makes it an excellent text to help students navigate among notions of black womanhood in African American women's speculative fiction. [...]not only should this text be present on the shelves of university libraries, but it would also be a welcomed addition to the university curriculum: if the call to decolonize academic knowledge is answered properly, in fact, it won't be enough to include authors from different backgrounds; it will be necessary as well to reach a more comprehensive understanding of the contexts and theories which shaped them and their works in order to avoid \"the danger of a single story,\" as phrased by Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie in a 2013 Ted Talk to which Parker also refers at the end of her book.

Bhabha's concepts of \"hybridity\" and \"third space\" are divorced from the contexts of both (post)coloniality and race up to the point at which Hepp claims that all identities are \"hybrid\" (e.g., Hepp 18/19); Agamben's \"Homo sacer,\" in turn, is divorced from its immediate context of law and citizenship and reduced to its metaphorical quality only. Deviance and normalcy are to be understood as the two sides of one vampiristic coin. [...]far from being \"the other,\" the vampire represents the \"familiar other,\" a hybrid state of liminality that ruptures binaries, stereotypes, and readerly assumptions. [...]Hepp's study excludes large proportions of Anglophone research perspectives on the vampire; these include, but are not limited to, insights from scholars working in the fields of Postcolonial Studies, Critical Race Theory, Critical Whiteness Studies, Queer Studies, and scholarship located at the intersection of law/citizenship and literature.