"Abbeville Press, New York, NY"--Colophon.

The very idea of humanity seems to be in crisis. Born in the ashes of devastation after the slaughter of millions, the liberal conception of humanity imagined a suffering victim in need of salvation. Today, this figure appears less and less capable of galvanizing the political imagination. But without it, how are we to respond to the inhumane violence that overwhelms our political and philosophical registers? How can we make sense of the violence that was carried out in the name of humanism? And how can we develop more ethical relations without becoming parasitic on the pain of others? Through a critical exploration of violence and the sacred, Ecce Humanitas recasts the fall of liberal humanism. Brad Evans offers a rich analysis of the changing nature of sacrificial violence, from its theological origins to the exhaustion of the victim in the contemporary world. He critiques the aestheticization that turns victims into sacred objects, sacrificial figures that demand response, perpetuating a cycle of violence that is seen as natural and inevitable. In novel readings of classic and contemporary works, Evans traces the sacralization of violence as well as art’s potential to incite resistance. Countering the continued annihilation of life, Ecce Humanitas calls for liberating the political imagination from the scene of sacrifice. A new aesthetics provides a form of transgressive witnessing that challenges the ubiquity of violence and allows us to go beyond humanism to imagine a truly liberated humanity.

"Cathleen Young's characters will forever have a place in my heart." --Holly Goldberg Sloan, author of Counting by 7s Former best friends compete to see who can grow the biggest pumpkin and win the annual giant pumpkin race on the lake. A great pick for fans of Half a Chance and Gertie's Leap to Greatness. At the end of every summer, Madeline Island hosts its famous pumpkin race. All summer, adults and kids across the island grow giant, thousand-pound pumpkins, then hollow one out and paddle in it across the lake to the cheers of the entire town. Twelve-year-old Billie loves to win; she has a bulletin board overflowing with first-prize ribbons. Her best friend Sam doesn't care much about winning, or at least Billie didn't think so until last summer's race, when his pumpkin crashed into hers as she was about to cross the finish line and he won. This summer, Billie is determined to get revenge by growing the best and biggest pumpkin and beating Sam in the race. It's a tricky science to grow pumpkins, since weather, bugs, and critters can wipe out a crop. Then a surprise visit from a long-lost relative shakes things up, and Billie begins to see her family, and her bond with Sam, in a new way.

In times of conflicts and crises, an argument insisting on the humane is commonly heard. In wars, voices demanding a humane treatment of prisoners – as decreed by the Geneva Convention – will be raised. Opposition to social injustice may be framed in a collected call for a humane society. Even educational systems may insist on having a humane perspective among its leading causes. Words referring to man – humane, but also humanistic, humanitarian, even humanity – thus take on status of ideals for mankind. Man, in common and legal speech, thus becomes the conceptual marker of his own perfection. The subject of this book is the early history of this linguistic feature and in particular its argumentative use, from its starting point till early modern times.

Hercules is a hero; we were all brought up to appreciate the basic idea of the ancient hero. But what about him makes him one? This book aims to challenge some of the standard expectations as to what constitutes a hero, considering the phenomenon of heroism from a range of viewpoints. In this book we invite you to walk around the monumental notions of the hero and heroism, and endeavour to reach out and touch them on all sides. The chapters in this volume testify to the difficulty of answering the question ‘what is a hero?’ and engage with a variety of themes in attempting to offer some replies. They demonstrate not just the variety of ways in which the protagonists of ancient literature can be deemed heroic, but also the tendency for aspects of heroism to turn sour once identified. It seems that the moment we recognise heroic features, we are forced to question them. Do heroes necessitate anti-heroes, for example? Portraying protagonists’ heroic qualities in an ambigous light focuses the reader’s attention on the problem of realising the ideals of heroism in historic actuality. Various chapters ask the rhetorical question of whether we should expect, or more importantly, desire historical actors to behave like mythical heroes. To what extent can a hero ever be integrated into normal society? What difference might there be between a tragic and an epic hero? The commonplace ‘The only good hero is a dead hero’ summarises the extent to which this book also focuses on heroic death and dying. Covering Euripides to Monty Python, Roman soldiers to the modern military, this volume offers the reader a chance to think about the changing notion of the hero and recognise heroic qualities throughout western culture.