New Directions for Old Roads: Rewriting the Young Adult Road Trip Story

Author(s):  
Jason Vanfosson

This chapter argues that contemporary young adult road narratives rewrite the story of the road to include more diverse representations that expose the challenges of traveling while part of a marginalized group. Road trip narratives codify privilege via class, gender, sexual orientation, and whiteness within the North American context to define a dominant road story that has commonly been represented throughout literary history. This chapter examines how the young adult road trip becomes a site of subversion for indigenous travelers, travelers of color, queer travelers, and trans travelers through the ways certain identities receive or navigate the privilege of mobility on the road within different geographical spaces.

2021 ◽  
Author(s):  
Tori Zenko

The road – while on the surface often perceived as merely a means of allowing individuals to move from one location to another, has during recent decades become deeply intertwined with both individual and mass narratives related to the pursuit of freedom. The freedom narrative began when the United States highway system, developed during the early 1960s and thematically charged by the Beat Generation’s road-trip literature, became imbued with new meaning and new freedom-facilitating potential. The road, an architectural feat once thought of largely as a means of providing mass mobilization, came to be understood as both the road to freedom, and the road as freedom. However, today we find ourselves experiencing a new road narrative, one that still speaks to freedom but that differs vastly from the road narratives of the 1960s. Today, as individuals experience the road through sharing-economy services such as Uber, a narrative shift has occurred whereby freedom on the road is no longer experienced individualistically and/or destructively but, instead, communally and constructively.


2021 ◽  
Author(s):  
Tori Zenko

The road – while on the surface often perceived as merely a means of allowing individuals to move from one location to another, has during recent decades become deeply intertwined with both individual and mass narratives related to the pursuit of freedom. The freedom narrative began when the United States highway system, developed during the early 1960s and thematically charged by the Beat Generation’s road-trip literature, became imbued with new meaning and new freedom-facilitating potential. The road, an architectural feat once thought of largely as a means of providing mass mobilization, came to be understood as both the road to freedom, and the road as freedom. However, today we find ourselves experiencing a new road narrative, one that still speaks to freedom but that differs vastly from the road narratives of the 1960s. Today, as individuals experience the road through sharing-economy services such as Uber, a narrative shift has occurred whereby freedom on the road is no longer experienced individualistically and/or destructively but, instead, communally and constructively.


1985 ◽  
Vol 35 ◽  
pp. 93-97 ◽  
Author(s):  
Stephen Hill

The ruins at Yanıkhan form the remains of a Late Roman village in the interior of Rough Cilicia some 8 kilometres inland from the village of Limonlu on the road to Canbazlı (see Fig. 1). The site has not been frequently visited by scholars, and the first certain reference to its existence was made by the late Professor Michael Gough after his visit on 2 September 1959. Yanıkhan is now occupied only by the Yürüks who for years have wintered on the southern slopes of Sandal Dağ. The ancient settlement at Yanıkhan consisted of a village covering several acres. The remains are still extensive, and some, especially the North Basilica, are very well preserved, but there has been considerable disturbance in recent years as stone and rubble have been removed in order to create small arable clearings. The visible remains include many domestic buildings constructed both from polygonal masonry without mortar and from mortar and rubble with coursed smallstone facing. There are several underground cisterns and a range of olive presses. The countryside around the settlement has been terraced for agricultural purposes in antiquity, and is, like the settlement itself, densely covered with scrub oak and wild olive trees. The most impressive remains are those of the two basilical churches which are of little artistic pretension, but considerable architectural interest. The inscription which forms the substance of this article was found on the lintel block of the main west entrance of the South Basilica.


Author(s):  
Mike Searle

My quest to figure out how the great mountain ranges of Asia, the Himalaya, Karakoram, and Tibetan Plateau were formed has thus far lasted over thirty years from my first glimpse of those wonderful snowy mountains of the Kulu Himalaya in India, peering out of that swaying Indian bus on the road to Manali. It has taken me on a journey from the Hindu Kush and Pamir Ranges along the North-West Frontier of Pakistan with Afghanistan through the Karakoram and along the Himalaya across India, Nepal, Sikkim, and Bhutan and, of course, the great high plateau of Tibet. During the latter decade I have extended these studies eastwards throughout South East Asia and followed the Indian plate boundary all the way east to the Andaman Islands, Sumatra, and Java in Indonesia. There were, of course, numerous geologists who had ventured into the great ranges over the previous hundred years or more and whose findings are scattered throughout the archives of the Survey of India. These were largely descriptive and provided invaluable ground-truth for the surge in models that were proposed to explain the Himalaya and Tibet. When I first started working in the Himalaya there were very few field constraints and only a handful of pioneering geologists had actually made any geological maps. The notable few included Rashid Khan Tahirkheli in Kohistan, D. N. Wadia in parts of the Indian Himalaya, Ardito Desio in the Karakoram, Augusto Gansser in India and Bhutan, Pierre Bordet in Makalu, Michel Colchen, Patrick LeFort, and Arnaud Pêcher in central Nepal. Maps are the starting point for any geological interpretation and mapping should always remain the most important building block for geology. I was extremely lucky that about the time I started working in the Himalaya enormous advances in almost all aspects of geology were happening at a rapid pace. It was the perfect time to start a large project trying to work out all the various geological processes that were in play in forming the great mountain ranges of Asia. Satellite technology suddenly opened up a whole new picture of the Earth from the early Landsat images to the new Google Earth images.


PMLA ◽  
2004 ◽  
Vol 119 (1) ◽  
pp. 92-102 ◽  
Author(s):  
Takayuki Tatsumi

Literary history has always mirrored discursive revolutions in world history. In the United States, the Jazz Age would not have seen the Herman Melville revival and the completion of Carl Van Doren's The Cambridge History of American Literature (1917–21) without the rise of post–World War I nativism. If it had not been for Pearl Harbor, F. O. Matthiessen's American Renaissance (1941) could not have fully aroused the democratic spirit embedded in the heritage of New Criticism. Likewise, the postcolonial and New Americanist climate around 1990, that critical transition at the end of the cold war, brought about the publication of Emory Elliott's The Columbia Literary History of the United States (1988) and Sacvan Bercovitch's The Cambridge History of American Literature (1994–). I would like to question, however, the discourse that narrates American literary history in the globalist age of the twenty-first century.


Mnemosyne ◽  
2016 ◽  
Vol 69 (2) ◽  
pp. 202-225
Author(s):  
Sarah Pothecary

A number of places that feature in Strabo’s description of the Asian peninsula were situated on the ancient road that ran between the Euphrates river and the city of Ephesus. It is likely that Strabo journeyed along the entire thousand-kilometre length of the road, even though he makes explicit reference to his presence in only a few locations. He most probably made the journey as a youth on his way to Roman Asia, in the south west of the peninsula, from Pontus in the north. Decades pass before Strabo, as an old man, writes the Geography and includes in it the memories of places he had visited. The outdated tone of some of his descriptions reflects this passage of time.


2016 ◽  
Vol 66 (1) ◽  
pp. 128-133
Author(s):  
Annalisa Paradiso

Aristodemus, a Phigalian by birth, was tyrant of Megalopolis for around fifteen years in the first half of the third century b.c., possibly from the time of the Chremonidean War (267–262) until around 251, when he was murdered by two Megalopolitan exiled citizens, Megalophanes and Ecdelus, pupils of the Academic Arcesilaus. While giving an account of his violent death, Pausanias, none the less, draws a very positive portrait of him, also mentioning the nickname ‘the Good’ which he probably read on Aristodemus' grave. Pausanias also reports the foundation of two temples by the tyrant, both dedicated to Artemis. At 8.35.5 he locates one of the two temples at thirteen stades from Megalopolis on the road to Methydrion, so to the north. There, he says, is a place named Scias, where there are ruins of a sanctuary of Artemis Sciaditis. At 8.32.4, Pausanias briefly refers to the temple of Artemis Agrotera at Megalopolis. He says only that the sanctuary was on a hill in the south-east district of the polis, and adds that it was dedicated as an ἀνάθημα by the tyrant as well.


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