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Blindness, or vision loss, is a major medical concern that has also drawn the attention of artists, writers, musicians, mythologists, filmmakers, religions, philosophers and others. Covering everything from pop culture to high culture, this text is an illuminating anthology of essays examining various representations of blindness. Comprehensive in scope, this collection of essays analyzes depictions and explorations of blindness in many pieces of media. Essays explore blindness in horror films, science fiction literature, high art, superhero fiction, Jewish and indigenous traditions, music and more. This book aims to show how a world of darkness can hold so much light.

From Homer to Helen Keller, from Dune to Stevie Wonder, from the invention of braille to the science of echolocation, M. Leona Godin explores the fascinating history of blindness, interweaving it with her own story of gradually losing her sight. “[A] thought-provoking mixture of criticism, memoir, and advocacy.'—The New YorkerThere Plant Eyes probes the ways in which blindness has shaped our ocularcentric culture, challenging deeply ingrained ideas about what it means to be “blind.” For millennia, blindness has been used to signify such things as thoughtlessness (“blind faith”), irrationality (“blind rage”), and unconsciousness (“blind evolution”). But at the same time, blind people have been othered as the recipients of special powers as compensation for lost sight (from the poetic gifts of John Milton to the heightened senses of the comic book hero Daredevil). Godin—who began losing her vision at age ten—illuminates the often-surprising history of both the condition of blindness and the myths and ideas that have grown up around it over the course of generations. She combines an analysis of blindness in art and culture (from King Lear to Star Wars) with a study of the science of blindness and key developments in accessibility (the white cane, embossed printing, digital technology) to paint a vivid personal and cultural history. A genre-defying work, There Plant Eyes reveals just how essential blindness and vision are to humanity's understanding of itself and the world.

L'aveugle a toujours été l'un des personnages les plus énigmatiques de l'histoire de la littérature : son infirmité physique, à laquelle correspond très souvent une forte sensibilité ainsi qu'une grande aptitude à la poésie et à la musique, l'empêche de connaître le visible immanent. Mais, de manière presque extraordinaire la cécité, lui permet d'accéder à l'invisible et d'atteindre la divinité. L'ouvrage vise à offrir une analyse approfondie de la thématique de la cécité, principalement à travers l'étude de la nouvelle Claire Lenoir (1867) de Villiers de l'Isle-Adam et du roman Emmurés (1894) de Lucien Descaves.

In this innovative and important study, Heather Tilley examines the huge shifts that took place in the experience and conceptualisation of blindness during the nineteenth century, and demonstrates how new writing technologies for blind people had transformative effects on literary culture. Considering the ways in which visually-impaired people used textual means to shape their own identities, the book argues that blindness was also a significant trope through which writers reflected on the act of crafting literary form. Supported by an illuminating range of archival material (including unpublished letters from Wordsworth's circle, early ophthalmologic texts, embossed books, and autobiographies) this is a rich account of blind people's experience, and reveals the close, and often surprising personal engagement that canonical writers had with visual impairment. Drawing on the insights of disability studies and cultural phenomenology, Tilley highlights the importance of attending to embodied experience in the production and consumption of texts.

Although the theme of blindness occurs frequently in literature, literary criticism has rarely engaged the experiential knowledge of people with visual impairments. The Metanarrative of Blindness counters this trend by bringing to readings of twentieth-century works in English a perspective appreciative of impairment and disability. Author David Bolt examines representations of blindness in more than forty literary works, including writing by Kipling, Joyce, Synge, Orwell, H. G. Wells, Susan Sontag, and Stephen King, shedding light on the deficiencies of these representations and sometimes revealing an uncomfortable resonance with the Anglo-American science of eugenics. What connects these seemingly disparate works is what Bolt calls “the metanarrative of blindness,” a narrative steeped in mythology and with deep roots in Western culture. Bolt examines literary representations of blindness using the analytical tools of disability studies in both the humanities and social sciences. His readings are also broadly appreciative of personal, social, and cultural aspects of disability, with the aim of bringing literary scholars to the growing discipline of disability studies, and vice versa. This interdisciplinary monograph is relevant to people working in literary studies, disability studies, psychology, sociology, applied linguistics, life writing, and cultural studies, as well as those with a general interest in education and representations of blindness.

In the first full-length literary-historical study of its subject, Edward Larrissy examines the philosophical and literary background to representations of blindness and the blind in the Romantic period. In detailed studies of literary works he goes on to show how the topic is central to an understanding of British and Irish Romantic literature. While he considers the influence of Milton and the ‘Ossian'poems, as well as of philosophers, including Locke, Diderot, Berkeley and Thomas Reid, much of the book is taken up with new readings of writers of the period. These include canonical authors such as Blake, Wordsworth, Scott, Byron, Keats and Percy and Mary Shelley, as well as less well-known writers such as Charlotte Brooke and Ann Batten Cristall. There is also a chapter on the popular genre of improving tales for children by writers such as Barbara Hofland and Mary Sherwood. Larrissy finds that, despite the nostalgia for a bardic age of inward vision, the chief emphasis in the period is on the compensations of enhanced sensitivity to music and words. This compensation becomes associated with the loss and gain involved in the modernity of a post-bardic age. Representations of blindness and the blind are found to elucidate a tension at the heart of the Romantic period, between the desire for immediacy of vision on the one hand and, on the other, the historical self-consciousness which always attends it.Key Features• Original research on an important, previously unexamined topic which will extend knowledge and understanding of the period• Provides new readings of major authors and texts including Blake, Wordsworth, Coleridge and Keats, Bryon and Shelley and Mary Shelley• Examines non-canonical texts including tales for children• Makes a distinctive contribution to debate about Romantic understanding of history

This is a remarkable study of how Western culture has represented blindness, especially in that most visual of arts, painting. Moshe Barasch draws upon not only the span of art history from antiquity to the eighteenth century but also the classical and biblical traditions that underpin so much of artistic representation: Blind Homer, the healing of

Paulson examines literary, philosophical, and pedagogical writing on blindness in France from the Enlightenment, when philosophical speculation and surgical cures for cataracts demystified the difference between the blind and the sighted, to the nineteenth century, when the literary figure of the blind bard or seer linked blindness with genius, madness, and narrative art. A major theme of the book is the effect of blindness on the use of language and sign systems: the philosophes were concerned at first with understanding the doctrine of innate ideas, rather than with understanding blindness as such.Originally published in 1987.The Princeton Legacy Library uses the latest print-on-demand technology to again make available previously out-of-print books from the distinguished backlist of Princeton University Press. These editions preserve the original texts of these important books while presenting them in durable paperback and hardcover editions. The goal of the Princeton Legacy Library is to vastly increase access to the rich scholarly heritage found in the thousands of books published by Princeton University Press since its founding in 1905.

Most Miltonists have treated Paradise Lost as a static design, emphasizing its balance, but McMahon stresses its movement. He explores the differences between the poem's earlier and later books, linking them to the Bard's growth as a poet. The first half of Paradise Lost swells with matter and manner of the classical epic, reflecting, McMahon says, the Bard's aspiration to be a visionary poet in the grand style. A shift occurs in Book VII, however, and by Books XI and XII the Bard composes in a simpler fashion, singing a narrative exegesis of the Bible and exhibiting concern for his audience's edification rather than his own glorification. The later books of the poem, therefore, are presented as morally better than the earlier, according to McMahon. Even more, Milton understood them to be aesthetically better. The change that the Bard and his poetry undergo illustrates Milton's attempt to reform the taste of his readers, to lead them from the pleasures of the grand style to a more austere and biblical poetry.