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The Gift: economies of kinship and sacrificial desire in 'Tis Pity She's a Whore.

John Ford's 'Tis Pity She's a Whore stages multiple exchanges of gifts, and operates within a complex web of erotic, spiritual, and sacrificial economies. The text engages with the metaphors of gift and exchange on several levels. The gift of a poisoned cup exchanges hands with fatal consequences, jewels are pledged and returned; a ring, the sacred memento of a dead mother, changes hands from husband to brother. Living whores trade places with dead mothers, and surrogate fathers transact on behalf of the heavenly one. Vows and pacts are made and broken, and over the entire play loom the shadows of myths and legends darkened with incest, rape, and sinister crossings between animal, human, and divine: Juno's incestuous love for her brother, Prometheus's transgression, and Jupiter's watery translation into a swan to perform the rape on Leda. This essay centers on the central crossing that illuminates all of these other gifts and exchanges. I situate the incestuous relationship between sister and brother - Annab ella and Giovanni - within the theoretics of gift exchange. Ford's play offers rich, metaphorical readings in terms of gift giving, social exchange, and sacrifice.

As the title indicates, the essay acknowledges a debt to the central importance of Marcel Mauss's work in the discursive field of gift theory. But the essay also profits from the rich plurality of post-Maussian dialogues initiated by cross-disciplinary theoretical perspectives on gifts, exchanges, and social transactions. Conceived in the broadest possible terms, the gift itself is central to this essay. Yet the essay's announced focus on the nature of the gift simultaneously interrogates related concepts of reciprocity, obligation, and altruism, and allows it to participate in the interconnected discourses of anthropology, feminism, psychoanalysis, economics, and literary studies. While Mauss's crucial insights in The Gift (1925) shape the core of my argument, subsequent developments of those ideas inform my own understanding of the issue. Post-Maussian exchanges on the social, economic, and psychological ramifications of the gift have highlighted the rifts between market and gift economies and the culture of credit, between self-interest and altruism in gift-giving, and above all, inflected the critical debate about the notion of erotic economies and creative space for women with powerful agencies within social exchanges. This essay marks its entry at the crossroads of all of these exchanges.

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Incest occupies a ritual place and performs special cultural functions in 'Tis Pity She's a Whore. Ford's representation of incest departs from most other early modem literary representations of it. In other English plays staging the issue, characters often rationalize or redefine incest so it does not appear to be immoral or forbidden. For instance, Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher's A King and No King invents a comic ruse to avert incest. Arabaces, the king of Iberia, ingeniously rationalizes his incestuous desire for his sister by denying all kinship with her: "She is no kin to me, nor shall she be; I If she were any, I create her none." Arabaces explicitly relegates his sister to the seemingly farthest "tribe" from him. His sister has "As far from having part of blood with me I As the naked Indians" (3.1.112-22). Her kinship with the "naked Indians" -- probably the New World variety enslaved by Iberian monarchs like the fictional Arabaces -- ensures that she presumably becomes as much a part of the leg al "trading" community as the "naked Indians" whose alien cultural and ethnic ties made them permissible "blood" -partners for commercial and sexual liaisons.

In sharp contrast, Giovanni and Annabella, the incestuous siblings of Ford's play, unapologetically affirm their kinship ties. After Giovanni's declaration of love for his sister Annabella, brother and sister ritually validate their kinship. Kneeling to each other, they pledge:

Annabella: On my knees,

Brother, even by our mother's dust, I charge you,

Do not betray me to your mirth or hate:

Love me, or kill me, brother.

Giovanni: On my knees,

Sister, even by my mother's dust I charge you,

Do not betray me to your mirth or hate:

Love me, or kill me sister. (1.2.253-59)

For Giovanni, consanguinity itself is a call to physical love; ties of blood provide the grounds for incest: "nearness in birth or blood doth but persuade/A nearer nearness in affection" (1.2.239-40). In the context of incest, this ritual affirmation of kinship is suggestive. Invoking Marcel Mauss's classic "Essay on the Gift" relocates Giovanni's actions within Mauss's concept of social exchange based on reciprocal gifts and the deeply embedded ideologies of the social distribution of love. (1) As Mauss observed, such exchanges are not merely economic transactions, but complex social patterns of moral, symbolic, religious, and magic exchanges. Kinship laws determine healthy social functions by supporting the intricate talionic system of social institutions that rely on the exchange of gifts and kin. A social fabric retains its shape only when its members observe kinship laws. They do so by participating in endless reciprocal cycles: a father relinquishes his daughter to his "son"-in law, a mother gives up he r son to another daughter, the brother gives up his sister to a "brother" and a "sister" claims the brother. Mauss notes:

All these institutions express one fact alone, one social system, one precise state of mind: everything -- food, women, children, property, talismans, land, labor services, priestly functions, and ranks -- is there for passing on, and for balancing accounts. Everything passes to and fro as if there were a constant exchange of a spiritual matter, including things and men, between clans and individuals, distributed between social ranks, the sexes, and the generations. (Emphasis added, Mauss 14) (2)

Keeping Mauss's "constant exchange of a spiritual matter" in mind, I suggest that in 'Tis Pity She's a Whore Giovanni cannot participate meaningfully in a talionic framework of social exchanges because he perverts the basic structure of kinship. As Mauss explains, social alliances require one to give as well as to receive:

To refuse to give, to fail to invite, just as to refuse to accept, is tantamount to declaring war; it is to reject the bond of alliance and commonality. Also, one gives because one is compelled to do so, because the recipient possesses some kind of right of property over anything that belongs to the donor. This ownership is expressed and conceived of as a spiritual bond. (13)

The flow of exchange, of give and take, becomes crucially important for it necessitates a reciprocal obligation. Claude Levi-Strauss observes, "The prohibition of incest is a rule of reciprocity. It means: I will only give up my daughter or my sister if my neighbor will give up his also. The violent reaction of the community towards incest is the reaction of a community wronged" ("The Principle" 23). Giovanni, however, cannot reciprocate because he is incapable of parting with his sister: Annabella is a gift that he cannot bear to give away. Yet she is a gift that he should have refused. It is necessary to refuse certain kinds of gifts precisely because "gift exchange is an erotic form" (Hyde 73). The acceptance of the gift of Annabella thrusts Giovanni into a destructive erotic exchange. Having accepted her gift, Giovanni is displaced in the system of social recompense. Since he is unable to give his sister away, he is dissociated from the current of exchange. He enters a world "in which one might keep to on eself' (Levi-Strauss, The Elementary Structures 497).

Ironically, the dual meanings of "keeping to oneself" -- both to retain something, and to isolate oneself -- apply to Giovanni whose insularity foreshadows both spiritual alienation and violent self-destruction, In the vocabulary of gift theoretics, "a gift that cannot be given away ceases to be a gift. The spirit of a gift is kept alive by its constant donation" (Hyde xiv). In the circumstances, Giovanni's insistence that Annabella remain faithful to him -- not her husband -- represents a central misunderstanding of his sister's social obligations as well as his incommensurable debt to the social transactions he has chosen to bypass. Gift exchanges, after all, serve to dramatize group boundaries, not to blur those distinctions (Schwartz 79). According to Giovanni's bizarre social reckoning, his gift of his sister to himself owes reciprocal obligations from his sister to him. Yet as the laws of gift exchange suggest, "the pragmatic test of balanced reciprocity becomes an inability to tolerate one-way flows, t he relations between people are disrupted by a failure to reciprocate within limited time and equivalence leeways" (Sablins 32). One-way transactions can only end in social cul-de-sacs.

Perhaps the biggest obstacle in Giovanni's model of perverted social exchanges is the very object of his desire, his sister. Annabella refuses to remain an object of passive masculine exchange between her father, her brother Giovanni, and her husband Soranzo. Clearly, Giovanni is not the only person with dramatic agency in the text. Ford's play complicates the cultural significance of gift exchanges because gendered subversions disrupt the masculine economy of desire. This becomes clear when one examines the positions of Annabella and Giovanni in their family. (3)

Ford offers an unusual literary model of female behavior in the character of Annabella, one that appears to contradict many anthropological models of social exchange -- notably that of Levi-Strauss and Malinowski -- which relegate women's role to passive objectification. Hardly a passive and silenced object circulated in masculine social and economic transactions, Annabella possesses a certain dramatic agency. This is enabled by other feminine exchanges in the play. The incestuous relationship and its disastrous consequences are made possible by the mother's absence. The sole maternal figure in Ford's text is Annabella's "guardian," a woman called Putana. The woman inscribed as a whore performs the maternal role in Giovanni's familial exchanges; yet Putana's body is also the site of many promiscuous masculine exchanges. Putana, in turn, multiplies such profligate exchanges and crossings, urging Annabella to dissolve kinship ties in a similar fashion: "I say still, if a young wench feel the fit upon her, let h er take anybody, father or brother, all is one" (2.1.44-46). Since Putana, the surrogate mother of the play, sanctions the act of incest, Giovanni's masculine erotics is plagued and undermined by the female economy of desire.

The memory of the dead mother twice haunts the play and on both occasions its link with the incestuous liaison threatens to unravel the plot. At the beginning of the play, as Giovanni woos his sister, the dead mother surfaces as an incestuous muse: "Sister, even by my mother's dust, I charge you" (1.2.263). The mother's dust appears to sanctify the unnatural bond between brother and sister even as her presence at the inaugural moment of incest confounds the masculine economy of desire. As Giovanni kneels to his sister, the absent mother vicariously receives her son's homage via the object of that son's desire -- the daughter of her womb. The second reference to the dead mother further intensifies the uncanny exchanges between the dead and living. When Annabella's father asks her to give a potential suitor her mother's ring, he underscores the ring's symbolic virtue: "Where's the ring, I That which your mother in her will bequeathed, I And charged you on her blessing not to give't / To any but your husband?" ( 2.5.36-38). Annabella's confession that her brother took it from her simultaneously reinforces Giovanni's "unkind" position as her husband/brother, and discloses a feminine economy of desire that disrupts Giovanni's masculine erotic imaginary. That is why Annabella earns the title of the play. She becomes a "strumpet, famous whore," the "Harlot, rare, notable harlot" of the "Brazen face" and "loose cunning whoredom" (4.3. 1-7). In effect, through her inscription as a whore, Annabella dually becomes Putana, the corrupt surrogate mother, as well as her own dead mother presiding over the incestuous wedlock of her son and daughter.

Annabella herself profoundly complicates the masculine gendering of gift exchanges in the play. For one thing, she blurs the line between gifts and the market economy. As a young, wealthy, presumably virginal, bride, she was supposed to have been a gift to her husband. Yet she appears to be aware that she is only a commodity in the marriage market. Other characters in the play seem equally aware of Annabella's status as an object for sale. Bergetto, a comic suitor of Annabella, declares his intention of marrying her using the vocabulary of the marketplace: "I have another purchase in hand; I shall have the wench" (1.2.119-20). Annabella's rejection of his suit does not worry him for he knows that he can "have wenches enough in Parma for half-a-crown apiece" (3.1.117-18). Marriage appears to be a commercial thoroughfare and as Hippolita, her husband's mistress, points out, Annabella is nothing more than a "goodly Madam Merchant" (2.2.48). Annabella further complicates the situation by marrying Soranzo after sh e conceives Giovanni's child. She does not truly "give" herself in marriage. Nor does she represent herself as a "real" gift to Soranzo at all. At best, she appears to be on "loan" from Giovanni. Ironically, as far as Soranzo is concerned, she comes with too many gifts -- the dubious gift of her own self, as well as the gift of the unborn child in her womb. In other words, for Soranzo, her child becomes a sort of "unearned increment" (Sahlins 32), a counterfeit coinage of the currency of her illicit commerce with her brother.

Annabella appears to possess an agency beyond that of Giovanni because she is able, in a way that Giovanni is not, to place her own life outside the economies of desire and revenge. Although Giovanni places Annabella in a closed and stifling value system of incestuous exchange, she is able to prove her own worth by reinserting herself in an especially meaningful way into the erotic economy of the play. Value, after all, is radically contingent. It is "neither a fixed attribute, an inherent quality, or an objective property of things, but, rather, an effect of multiple, continuously changing, and continuously interacting variables . . . the product of the dynamics of a system, specifically an economic system" (Smith 30). By uncovering the contingencies plaguing the values that define her, Annabella exposes the instability of incestuous exchanges.

Annabella's agency becomes clear precisely in her manipulation of such values. This is especially evident when Soranzo threatens to kill her if she does not disclose the name of her unborn child's father. Thus threatened, Annabella does not do the expected: she neither weeps nor cringes in fear. Instead, she undermines her husband's value system by refusing to acknowledge his definition of herself as a whore and of "worthless" value to him. She short-circuits the social exchange that sought to define her by stepping away from all transactions. Her speech becomes luminous with disorderly metaphors of buying, selling, giving, and taking. To Soranzo' s offer to spare her life if she will reveal the identity of her child's father, Annabella retorts, "I will not buy my life so dear." She defeats the circle of masculine revenge by telling Vasquez that his master Soranzo might as well kill her: I prize my life /As nothing; if the man will needs be mad, / Why let him take it" (4.3.75, 96-98). By prizing her life as "nothing" and by allowing any man to "take it," Annabella subverts the sexual commerce of her marriage, effectively taking herself out of the erotic exchange of the marketplace of marriage. By doing so, she sets in motion a re-production of values on another scale; she becomes custodian of own worth.

Giovanni had claimed Annabella as a gift, but at this point, Annabella effectively manages to give herself away, first to a husband, then to the heavenly father she woos with confessions and tears. She frees herself by actively seeking repentance and self-consciously accepting responsibility for her own actions. Her own father is alive till the final scene of the play. Yet when she opts out of the social exchanges of husband and brother, she overlooks her biological father. She approaches, via the intervention of the priest, the heavenly father who stands as final arbiter and judge of all human transactions. The figure of Father Bonaventura replaces both natural father and brother for Annabella, for the priest is both holy "father" as well as a brotherly friar (frere) inviting her to a new spiritual exchange of grace for repentance. Unlike Annabella, Giovanni is chained to his own fatal erotic economy. Because he perverts the social pattern of exchange that assigns separate roles to brother, husband, and fat her, Giovanni is compelled to perform several roles. He is brother, lover, husband, and more to Annabella, gliding uneasily from one part to another, consuming both himself and his sister in the self-referential circles of incest and violent death.

Discussing gifts which must not be circulated within a group of paternal relations in Polynesian ceremonial exchanges, Levi-Strauss notes that failure to do so was "sori tana" or "to eat from one's basket" ("The Principle" 21). This resonant phrase might carry over to Ford's play as a metaphor of consumption that hovers around the crossing of gifts, incest and sacrifice. Incest, after all, is symptomatic of a disordered appetite that eventually feeds on itself, and the act is an extreme form of self-consumption. (4) As Giovanni comments at the bloody end of the play "Now survives/None of our house, but I" (5.6. 68-9), he has, literally, come to the end of the line. The metaphor of consumption acquires a malignant literalism as Giovanni closes in on himself. The end comes to unnatural life by the fetishized iconography of the mutilated and bleeding heart at the riveting climax of the play. The end of Ford's play has received much critical attention (see, for example, Artaud, Kaufmann, Stavig, Roper, Rosen, Ma delaine, and Neill). However, I would like to suggest another reading of the scene in which Giovanni stabs his pregnant sister, rips out and kills his unborn child from her womb, and then impales his sister's heart on a dagger in a phallic exhibition of his desires.

Arguably, Annabella' s heart becomes the sterile object of adoration in Giovanni s economy of desire. But by the end of the play, the heart no longer has exchange value. Throughout, the word "heart" is relentlessly used as an icon of sorts. Annabella never allows her suitor (later her husband) Soranzo to use the word seriously. Soranzo's claim, "Did you see my heart, then would you swear -- receives from Annabella this response: "That you were dead." When Soranzo utters the rejected lover's cry, "I'm sick, and sick to th' heart," Annabella deliberately misunderstands him, "Help," she cries, "aquavitae!" (3.2.23-24, 34-35). Only when he is convinced of her betrayal, and having lost his own heart, is Soranzo able to use the word meaningfully, "in this piece of flesh, / This faithless face of hers, had I laid up / The treasure of my heart" (4.3.106-08). When Annabella refuses to name her unborn child's father, Soranzo becomes as literal as Giovanni, "I'll rip up thy heart / And find it there" (4.3.53-54). Since Annabella bestows her heart on the wrong person, her father, the erstwhile guardian of her heart, dies. The Cardinal announces, "Monster of children, see what thou hast done, / Broke thy old father's heart!" (5.6.62-63).

In the context of incest, the heart's iconography has further import. Giovanni feels he is entitled to his sister's heart. He repeatedly emphasizes that they share one heart. Giovanni is the "happy monarch of her heart and her" (5.6.45). Annabella's heart is the literal manifestation of his love, and his heart is inscribed within the word. As he offers Annabella a dagger, Giovanni exclaims, "And here's my breast, strike home! / Rip up my bosom, there thou shalt behold / A heart in which is writ the truth I speak" (1.2.209-11). When Annabella vows to be constant to him, he imparts his heart to her, "keep well my heart" (2.1.31-32). His entwining of "tribute" and "heart" suggests that having "given" his heart to his sister, Giovanni expects a certain reciprocity from her: He has given her "A heart whose tribute is thy brother's life" (2.1.5). Before his death, he remembers it as "the tribute which my heart I Hath paid to Annabella's sacred love" (5.5. 56-7). When he does not get a return for his tribute she bec omes "a faithless sister" (5.5.9) because she has "stolen" his heart, or at the very least, not adequately recompensed him for it. If, as Craig Muldrew suggests, "the early modern economy was a system of cultural, as well as material, exchanges in which the central mediating factor was credit or trust" (4), then Annabella appears to have violated the basic principle of such an exchange by "stealing" his heart. And since Giovanni could no longer "trust" her, Annabella lost all credit and became faithless; her word (or heart) no longer had currency.

The text repeatedly points to the "stolen object" that must be returned. In a sense then, when Giovanni tears out Annabella' s heart, he is also recovering his own heart that was "stolen" by another through Annabella's repentance. Therefore, in the act of sacrifice, he returns to the god -- to himself -- the sacred heart that was taken and which must now be returned, so that order is restored to his chaotic world. Marc Shell observes, "According to the lex talionis, a man must either give back what he has taken or make appropriate restitution for it. If he has taken a cow, for example, he must return that cow. When what he has taken cannot be returned, a substitute that somehow measures up to the stolen object must be found" (97). This might explain why Giovanni chooses to rip out Annabella's heart, his "gift" to her, as well as kill the fruit of that heart -- the child in her womb.

The heart -- broken, stolen, mutilated, and sacrificed -- becomes the central objectified manifestation of the incestuous exchange in the play. Dispossessed of Annabella's heart, Giovanni initiates a sacrificial rite in which he is both the sacrificer and the angry god who must be placated with a gift. Annabella's heart becomes a perverse offering at the altar of love. Henri Hubert and Marcel Mauss discuss the Vedic notion of sacrifice as a gift consecrated to the gods. They observe that the sacrificial victim -- animal or human -- is sacred, or becomes so. In many sacrificial rituals, destroying the victim makes it sacred: "Sacrifice, of itself, effects an exaltation of the victims, which renders them directly divine" (79).

In the beginning of the play Giovanni represents Annabella as a sacred object of worship: "O that it were not a religious sin / To make our love a god, and worship it!" (1.2.l50-51). (5) Annabella is canonized for love: "Such lips would tempt a saint; such hands as those I Would make an anchorite lascivious" (1.2.202-03). Yet Annabella's "transgression" makes her punishment inevitable. Giovanni punishes Annabella precisely because she atones for that sin and because she "betrays" him to another god. Since Annabella "pays" homage to another god, the God or heavenly father that has "stolen" her heart from him, she betrays Giovanni. Her "transgression" invites punishment. Strikingly, Giovanni's actions conflate her sins, condemning Annabella both for sinning and for abstaining from that sin. Annabella transgresses doubly and is doubly punished. In Giovanni's eyes, her once holy nature is defiled, because her confession and abandonment of him make her a part of larger social exchanges, a thing profane. Following his perverse logic, Annabella's subsequent "purification" enables her to be a perfect "gift" again. Paradoxically, the sacrifice of the heart on the dagger also partially cleanses Giovanni's incredibly corrupt society by destroying most of the agents of that corruption.

Annabella's heart literally enacts the drama of sacrifice. Mutilation of the sacrificial victim and the subsequent consecration or "gift" to a god were recognizable aspects of sacrifice. (6) After ripping her heart out, Giovanni tells the assembled kin, "I came to feast too, but I digged for food / In a much richer mine than gold or stone / Of any value balanced; 'tis a heart, I A heart my lords, in which is mine entombed" (5.6.26-29). In the framework of sacrifice, mutilated body parts transmit special powers to the sacrificer. (7) Like the ancient sacrificer, Giovanni consumes his sister's heart. It becomes the "food" that empowers him, and returns his god-like stature to him through the metaphor of cannibalism. This "food" becomes his ultimate gift to himself. Through the bloody offering of Annabella' s heart, Giovanni completes the cycle of restitution: the return of the "stolen" heart to its rightful owner. The exchange cycle is now complete. Although the friar reminds Giovanni of divine grace acquired through the gift of Christ's body, Giovanni can only enact the appalling parody of a cannibal god. This "savage" god does not offer his own body for the salvation of others, but feeds upon the bodies of Annabella and her child. In his negation of the gift of grace, Giovanni severs all ties between the unseen spiritual world of the unborn child and himself. He acquires a destructive freedom -- a dissevering from society and God. He is no longer indentured to his gift.

In dismembering Annabella and plucking out her heart, Giovanni creates a symbol -- like the cross -- a bloody, visible, and sacred emblem. For the first time in the play, Giovanni finds a satisfactory subject position as he expresses himself in the violent iconography of the bleeding heart on the dagger. Yet, although the sacrifice must be made, it cannot be performed without emotion: In order to be effective, an offering must involve profound renunciation. It must be a true sacrifice. Giovanni weeps for his sister, "These are the funeral tears / Shed on your grave; these furrowed up my cheeks / When first I loved and knew not how to woo" (5.5. 49-51). Giovanni has never been so close to Annabella: Victim and sacrificer share an incredible intimacy in the aftermath of the violence. The act of sacrifice enables the sacrificer to unite with the victim in a way that would have been impossible if the victim were alive. Hubert and Mauss observe that "all the participants which come together in sacrifice are united in it [the victim]; all the forces which meet in it are blended together" (44). Indeed, the violence of the sacrificial rite resembles the fury of the sexual act that represents the closest physical bond that two human beings can share. In ancient sacrificial rituals, sacrifice offers "a mingling of the two substances which become absorbed in each other to the point of becoming indistinguishable" (Hubert and Mauss, 43-44). For Giovanni, something sacred is born in this act of violence; finally, he and Annabella are one. It is the cannibalistic ingestion of the "gift" by the sacrificer. In death, Giovanni becomes the gift.


(1.) My reading of Mauss is inflected by more recent analyses of the economic nature of gifts and obligations. Specifically, Craig Muldrew's reconstruction of early modern economic practices and discourses, and his examination of the ethical tradition concerned with credit, honesty, and reputation are relevant here. Many of the exchanges I discuss below are concurrent with the rise of market activity and the culture of credit that Muldrew discusses. See Muldrew, The Economy of Obligation.

(2.) Mauss's text moves from the ethnology of North America, to Melanesia, Polynesia, Australia, to ancient legal systems and the roots of Indo-European law. My essay draws on the broader insights of Mauss's essay as well as on his earlier essay (with Henri Hubert) on sacrifice in the context of Vedic principles, esp. Hubert and Mauss, 14.

(3.) As scholars repeatedly observe, women are actively involved in gift exchanges, and their roles in sexual divisions of labor are crucially important. See Rubin 157-210; Weiner; Harstock; and Komter 119-31.

(4.) In Shakespeare's Pericles King Antiochus displaces his incestuous lust for his daughter within masculine fantasies of a devouring female body. His riddle to discourage her prospective suitors represents his incestuous daughter as a reptile devouring her mother: "I am no viper, yet I feed / On mother's flesh which did me breed." Later, she is explicitly called "an eater of her mother's flesh" (1.1.64-65, 130).

(5.) A certain ambivalence is central to sacrificial rituals: "The victim is sacred, it is criminal to kill him -- but the victim is sacred only because he is to be killed" (Girard, 1).

(6.) See Hubert and Mauss' s discussion of the examples from Hebrew hattat for Yom Kippur, as described in the opening verses of Leviticus chap. iv, from the Cretan legend of Dionysus (36, 80). See also the examples from Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vickers 265-79).

(7.) According to Hubert and Mauss, consumption of the victim's body parts suggested a sort of assimilation (39-40).


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Pompa Banerjee teaches in the English Department of the University of Colorado at Denver. Her work focuses on early modern cultural encounters between Europe and the East. She has published a book, Burning Women: Widows, Witches, and Early Modem European Travel Narratives of India (Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), and several essays on the subject.
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Date:Dec 1, 2002
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