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Salem – A Literary Profile

Themes and Motifs in the Depiction of Colonial and Contemporary Salem in American Fiction

by Clara Petino (Author)
Thesis 336 Pages

Table Of Content

  • Cover
  • Title
  • Copyright
  • About the author
  • About the book
  • This eBook can be cited
  • Contents
  • Introduction
  • Part I No Model of Christian Charity: Salem, 1692
  • 1. A Place of Darkness, Delusion, and Divination
  • 1.1. A Brief History of the Witch
  • 1.2. Witches in (Literary) Salem
  • 1.2.1. Darkness
  • 1.2.2. Delusion
  • 1.2.3. Divination
  • 1.3. Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “Young Goodman Brown” (1835)
  • 2. The Motif of Real Estate
  • 2.1. Real Estate in American History
  • 2.2. Puritan Beginnings
  • 2.3. The Salem Witch Trials and Real Estate
  • 2.3.1. Ministerial Difficulties
  • 2.4. Real Estate in Salem Literature
  • 2.4.1. Arthur Miller: The Crucible (1953)
  • 2.4.1.1. The Putnams
  • 2.4.1.2. Rebecca and Francis Nurse
  • 2.4.1.3. John Proctor
  • 2.4.1.4. Giles and Martha Corey
  • 2.4.2. Longfellow and Wilkins Freeman: The Corey Plays
  • 2.4.3. Ann Rinaldi’s A Break with Charity (1992): The English Family
  • 2.4.4. Land Lust in Andover: Kathleen Kent’s The Heretic’s Daughter (2008)
  • 2.4.5. Hawthorne’s The House of the Seven Gables (1851)
  • 3. The Motif of Love and Jealousy
  • 3.1. Ebenezer Wheelwright’s The Salem Belle (1842)
  • 3.2. John William DeForest’s Witching Times (1856)
  • 3.3. Wilkins Freeman’s Giles Corey, Yeoman (1893)
  • 3.4. Miller’s The Crucible (1953)
  • 4. The Afflicted Girls
  • 4.1. John Neal’s Rachel Dyer (1828)
  • 4.2. DeForest’s Witching Times (1856)
  • 4.2.1. The Special Case of Sarah Carrier
  • 4.3. Other 19th-century Depictions: Hawthorne, Wheelwright, Longfellow, Wilkins Freeman
  • 4.4. “I am eighteen and a woman”: The Crucible (1953)
  • 4.5. Sarah Carrier Revisited: Kent’s The Heretic’s Daughter (2008)
  • 4.6. Rinaldi’s A Break With Charity (1992)
  • 4.7. Young-Adult Fiction and the Salem Story
  • 5. Salem as a Metaphor
  • 5.1. Miller’s 1953 Cold War Metaphor
  • 5.2. William Carlos Williams: Tituba’s Children (1950)
  • 5.3. Beyond McCarthyism
  • 5.4. The Curious Proliferation of the Witch-Hunt
  • Part II “History Casts a Long Shadow Here”: Contemporary Salem
  • 1. The Motif of Ancestry
  • 1.1. “On the Wrong Effing Side of History”: The Descendants of Salem’s Witch-Hunters
  • 1.1.1. Hawthorne’s The House of the Seven Gables (1851)
  • 1.1.2. Adriana Mather’s How to Hang a Witch (2016)
  • 1.2. “Hanging from Each of Their Family Trees was the Name Rebecca Nurse”: The Descendants of Salem’s Victims
  • 1.2.1. Katherine Howe’s The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane (2009)
  • 1.2.2. Brunonia Barry’s The Fifth Petal (2017)
  • 2. A Place of Trauma
  • 2.1. Brunonia Barry: The Map of True Places (2010)
  • 2.2. Brunonia Barry: The Lace Reader (2006)
  • 2.3. Rewriting the Past: From Microlevel to Macrolevel
  • 3. Female Re-appropriations
  • 3.1. Brunonia Barry’s Salem Universe
  • 3.2. Howe’s The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane (2009)
  • 3.3. The Witch as Pop Culture Heroine and Political Activist
  • 3.4. Wicca in the United States
  • 3.5. Witch City
  • 4. Literary Memory
  • 4.1. A Literary Memorial: Hawthorne’s “Alice Doane’s Appeal” (1835)
  • 4.2. Memory Culture in Salem
  • 4.3. “Honoring this True Place was Long Overdue”: Literary and Real Investigations
  • 4.3.1. Mather: How to Hang a Witch (2016)
  • 4.3.2. Barry: The Fifth Petal (2017)
  • 4.4. Salem Literature as a Lieu de Mémoire of Salem Literature
  • 4.4.1. Katherine Howe’s Conversion (2014) and Miller’s The Crucible (1953)
  • 4.4.2. Brunonia Barry’s The Map of True Places (2010) and Hawthorne’s The House of the Seven Gables (1851)
  • 5. History Repeating
  • 5.1. Religious Fundamentalism in The Lace Reader (2006)
  • 5.2. Otherness and Online Shaming in The Fifth Petal (2017)
  • 5.3. School Bullying in How to Hang a Witch (2016)
  • 5.4. “What Girls are Capable of”: Hysteria in Conversion (2014)
  • Conclusion
  • Bibliography
  • Index

←10 | 11→

Introduction

“the Salem witch trials are best known today through the work of a playwright,
not a historian.”

(Boyer and Nissenbaum: Salem Possessed 22)

The story of the Salem witch trials is well known: In early 1692, the daughter and niece of Samuel Parris, reverend of the Puritan community of Salem Village, fall ill with convulsions, paralysis, and incoherent speech. Prayer and fasting do little to ease their symptoms, and the consulted doctor eventually diagnoses them as bewitched. Pressed for their tormentors, the girls name three village women: Tituba, Parris’s slave, Sarah Good, a beggar with a small child, and Sarah Osborne, a woman of dubious legal and moral reputation. Good and Osborne deny the charges, but Tituba eventually confesses: she did meet with the devil, she admits, and she did see Good and Osborne there, as well as other people she did not recognize. Yet unlike in previous witch trials, her confession saves her – the authorities decide to let her live for having exposed Satan and his supporters, and the danger of a secret witches’ community now dominates the villagers’ minds. Indeed, other girls also show symptoms of bewitchment; and even grown women and men soon name people they allegedly sighted with the devil and whom they accuse of spectrally harming or tormenting them. In late May, the Court of Oyer and Terminer is established to hear and determine the cases in Salem. Exactly 200 years after the discovery of America and only two generations after New England was first settled by the Puritans with the aim to establish a model community of Christian charity, one of the darkest European legacies emerges in Salem: the only organized witch trials in American history.

In A Storm of Witchcraft, Emerson Baker points out that “[t]‌raditionally in colonial Massachusetts, people who stood charged before the court could take comfort in the fact that the judges were there to protect the innocent and that justice would win out.” (160) But the judges in Salem fatally accept ‘spectral evidence’, testimonies based on dreams or visions of the accused’s misbehavior, as valid proof of a person’s guilt. Impossible to disprove, the accusations quickly climb “up the social ladder,” as Boyer and Nissenbaum put it in Salem Possessed, (33) befalling even well-regarded church members such as Martha Corey, Rebecca Nurse, and former minister George Burroughs, all of whom were hanged. By the ←11 | 12→end of 1692, they have spread way beyond the limits of Salem Village and Salem Town; more than 200 people are imprisoned for witchcraft, and 20 people have been publicly executed. Eventually, however, the prosecutions end as quickly as they started: amid overflowing jails, growing criticism, and the accusation of his own wife, Governor Phips stops the trials; by spring 1693 all remaining prisoners are released. Many people responsible later release apologies for their actions, Parris’s successor, Joseph Green, struggles to heal the community in subsequent years,1 witchcraft laws are loosened,2 and with the onset of the Enlightenment, the dark Salem episode seems confined to the past.

And yet, Salem is synonymous with the witch trials to this day; in fact, few other places are so distinctly linked to a certain time in American history. And while there are many Salems all over the US – Oregon’s capital city being the largest and politically most significant one – there is no further geographical distinction needed when ‘Salem’ is invoked as a reference in culture and everyday language. Although by international standards, the Salem witch trials were of small scale, their unique pace and structure continue to unsettle the American psyche: “as the most dramatic instance of social pathology and moral cowardice, [Salem] stands as a symbol of all people’s vulnerability to mass suggestion and scapegoating.” (Stout: Dictionary of Christianity in America 1041) Marion Starkey adds: “Because we can ‘know’ the people involved in the trials, we can begin ‘grasping the local’ as a means of ‘understanding the universal.’” (The Devil in Massachusetts 14–15) History is thus literally haunting the town – anyone who has been to Salem will remember the numerous museums, the ‘haunted houses’ and ‘witch tours’ tourists can take. However, its legacy extends well beyond the 40,000 coastal Massachusetts town: Countless historians have analyzed factors that may have led to the outbreak of accusations, from political and religious ←12 | 13→difficulties in 17th-century Salem to interpretations from a gender studies perspective.3 Indeed, studies like Baker’s 2014 A Storm of Witchcraft: The Salem Trials and the American Experience emphasize national significance. Further, innumerable cultural works have taken or alluded to the ‘Salem story’4 creatively, such as tv series (e.g. Salem, 2014–2017), films (e.g. The Lords of Salem, 2012), and, most prominently, literature.

Including a downright explosion of publications since the millennium, well over 70 works of fiction are set in historical or contemporary Salem. They tell, retell, and stage the story of 1692 and/or its legacy in the present, from the anonymously published Salem, an Eastern Tale in 1820 to the present; John Proctor or Giles Corey have become household names of American history and literature. Novels like Stephen King’s 1975 Salem’s Lot or Jodi Picoult’s 2001 Salem Falls do not even refer to Salem, Massachusetts, yet the bell the name rings fits these sinister and dramatic stories.5 Despite, or rather because of its contrast to the American founding myth, ‘Salem’ – the place and its history – is a distinctive part of the American collective memory.

Maurice Halbwachs, who introduced the concept of collective memory, defines it as the memory of notable events that many or all members of a group or society share. To pass these memories on to the next generation, the events are rendered to an individual by other members of the society. Halbwachs also points out that those events are typically linked to a certain space or place shared by the community; in fact, he argues that there is no collective memory that is not linked to a spatial frame. (cp. Das kollektive Gedächtnis 142) Historian Pierre Nora further studied this connection. In “Between Memory and History: Les Lieux de Mémoire” he differentiates between lieux de mémoire, ‘sites of memory’, ←13 | 14→and milieux de mémoire, ‘real environments of memory’. (7) While Halbwachs is concerned primarily with groups whose members are contemporaries (he distinguishes collective memory from history), Nora focuses on the fact that as soon as the communities of shared memories disappear, man-made sites of memory increase to keep the memories alive and to include them into a society’s identity. Memory, he writes, “attaches itself to sites” (22) – museums and memorials, but also abstract ‘sites’ such as anthems, texts, and symbols. While Salem itself is thus one of the most prominent American lieux de mémoire, so are the cultural works emerging from history. Indeed, Nora claims at the end of his 1989 essay, “memory has never known more than two forms of legitimacy: historical and literary. These have run parallel to each other but until now always separately.” (24) He addresses a vital development in memory studies in recent decades6 here: the inseparability of the analytic and the emotional, of place, history, memory, and literature. This new focal point will be the object of my study: the role of literature in the collective, or rather cultural memory of Salem.

Jan and Aleida Assmann have significantly shaped the term cultural memory which they use to reinterpret and further divide the term collective memory as introduced by Halbwachs. Renaming his concept communicative memory for Halbwachs’ focus on communities whose members are contemporaries (Nora’s ‘milieux de mémoire’), they distinguish cultural memory as those memories which are transferred from generation to generation through ‘lieux de mémoire’ such as literature. Jan Assmann explains further: “Cultural memory is a form of collective memory, in the sense that it is shared by a number of people and that it conveys to these people a collective, that is, cultural, identity.” (“Communicative and Cultural Memory” 110) This statement holds true for ‘Salem’: While personal accounts and interpretations of the trials were written shortly after the events7, historiography of the Salem witch trials only began in the 19th century with Salem mayor Charles Upham’s highly influential 1831 Lectures on Witchcraft and the 1867 Salem Witchcraft. But more importantly, fiction writers of the young nation were “mining colonial witchcraft histories in a broader effort to construct a uniquely ‘American’ literature.” (Vetere: “The Malefic Unconscious” 119) John ←14 | 15→Neal envisions in the unpublished preface to Rachel Dyer (1828), the first major fictionalization of the Salem witch trials, that “[o]‌ur literature will begin to wake up, and our pride of country will wake up with it” (x); he claims that “another state has been added to the everlasting confederacy of literature.” (xix) And few other writers have had a similarly vital role for the American Renaissance as did Hawthorne; F.O. Matthiessen writes in his eponymous work that both The Scarlet Letter (1850) and The House of the Seven Gables (1851) are “masterpieces” which helped the young literary nation in “affirming its rightful heritage in the whole expanse of art and culture.” (vii) Indeed, they are among the most famous works of American literature to this day and have incomparably shaped the cultural memory of the Puritan past in general and the Salem witch trials in particular, as well as the construction of American identity. David Booth writes: “knowledge about American history derived from literature” contributes to understanding “who we are and by what events we were made who we are.” (“Dubious American Ideal” 34/35)

While I am aware that depicting the past is always selective and highly subjective, I will single out recurring motifs in the collective depiction and construction of this contested place in 200 years of what I call ‘Salem literature’. Jan Rupp rightly states in “Erinnerungsräume in der Erzählliteratur” that “[t]‌he depiction and production” of places in literature “is not just a reflection of real places, but a constructive, often confrontational negotiation of the places of the collective memory.” (182, translation mine) It is indispensable for my analysis of literary Salem, however, to repeatedly refer back to the real place in Massachusetts, as not only its history but also its modern memory culture and politics are inseparable from the town’s literary treatment; the real and the literary place cross-fertilize. Yet it is neither my intention to find out what ‘really’ happened in Salem, nor is the veracity of the literary depiction critical. As Aleida Assmann states: “memory always works by means of reconstruction” as it “proceeds from the present and thus automatically leads to a shift, deformation, distortion, revaluation, restoration of the recollected at the time of its recall.” (Erinnerungsräume 29, translation mine) However, the historiography of the trials will help me contextualize the literary works. Finally, I will connect the medial preoccupation with the story of Salem to issues and politics of the present age as “a society’s cultural memory is always a reflection of its present interests, needs, and current levels of experience.” (Erll and Nünning: “Concepts and Methods for the Study of Literature and/as Cultural Memory” 11/12)

The sheer number of texts calls for a comprehensive literary profile, yet no such study has been undertaken so far. Bernard Rosenthal’s 1993 Salem Story. Reading the Witch Trials of 1692 is an indispensable contribution to Salem ←15 | 16→scholarship as the author tries to answer questions such as “How have we [Americans] variously perceived [the ‘witches’]? And How and why have we given Salem the place it has in the American imagination?” (5) However, his focus lies on primary texts, first and foremost the transcripts of the trials; literary texts are addressed only marginally. Marion Gibson’s 2007 “literary historiography,” Witchcraft Myths in American Culture, should not go unnoticed. Intending to analyze “everything written about witchcraft” in America, from trial records to fiction and nonfiction to “recent filmic adventures”, (2) Gibson significantly widens the scope of her study. Her book is highly informative, yet the large number of examples thwarts profound analyses. Robin DeRosa dedicates two chapters in her 2009 monography The Making of Salem: The Witch trials in History, Fiction, and Tourism to literary texts, one on novels and one on dramas. Her analyses of works from Hawthorne to Robin Cook’s 1995 pulp fiction novel Acceptable Risk are valuable and insightful, and her inclusion of French author Maryse Condé’s I, Tituba, Black Witch of Salem (1986) contrasts favorably with other scholarship. Yet the two chapters do not allow any in-depth discussions, and the author ignores Salem literature of the 21st century. Dane Anthony Morrison and Nancy Lusignan Schultz’s edited collection Salem: Place, Myth, and Memory (2004) targets everything from Salem’s religious, maritime and touristic history to a profound discussion of Hawthorne’s role in shaping its memory culture, but literarily hardly moves beyond the town’s most famous son. Two monographs are dealing exclusively with Salem literature, yet both limit themselves to the 19th century only: James William Clark’s 1970 dissertation at Duke University on The Tradition of Salem in American Literature: 18201870 and Heike Hartrath’s 1998 Fiktionalisierungen der Salemer Hexenverfolgung in amerikanischen Romanen vor 1860 (fictionalizations of the Salem witch trials in pre-1860 American novels).8 Yet it is particularly the contemporary novels ←16 | 17→in relation to works of the 19th and 20th century which are of interest to me; this inclusive corpus thus poses a fascinating research gap.

Including all of Salem literature in my analysis is near to impossible and bears the risk of being enumerative rather than insightful. Hence, as my focus lies on American cultural memory, I will only include works by US-authors and pick those that have been either popular successes and/or have received distinct critical attention in secondary literature. This includes the following works: As stated above, Neal’s 1828 Rachel Dyer has been the first major fictionalization of the Salem events, following the fate of one of the most controversial victims, reverend George Burroughs. Ebenezer Wheelwright’s 1842 The Salem Belle has received attention for its republication in 2016 by designated Poe and Hawthorne scholar Richard Kopley, who has done vital work in attributing the anonymously published novel to Wheelwright as well as in proving that The Salem Belle has influenced Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter.9 Kopley’s investigation leads me to my next point: As has been stated, Hawthorne’s works have not only significantly shaped the perception of American colonial history, but they have been so inseparable from the development of the town of Salem that biographer Margaret Moore rightly states, “Salem and Hawthorne are not interchangeable, but it is hard to know the one without the other.” (The Salem World of Nathaniel Hawthorne 7) I will limit myself to a profound analysis of only those works which are directly concerned with Salem’s history and memory:10 his early short stories “Young Goodman Brown” and “Alice Doane’s Appeal” (both 1835) as well as The House of the Seven Gables. Although The Scarlet Letter, set in 1640s Boston, is not a Salem novel, I will use it repeatedly throughout this book as a reference for its invaluable role in forming the cultural memory of Puritan New England as well as its intertextual significance for other literary works. I will also include John William DeForest’s Witching Times (1856), the only novel covering the whole history of the witchcraft persecutions from late 1691 to early 1693. I will further include the two ‘Corey plays,’ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s 1868 Giles Corey of the Salem Farms and Mary Eleanor Wilkins Freeman’s 1893 Giles Corey, Yeoman. Both are concerned with the fate of one of the most famous victims, 81-year-old Giles Corey whose death “has generated legends, stories, poems, plays, ←17 | 18→and songs.” (Rosenthal 163) After first having suspected his wife of witchcraft, he eventually repented by refusing to plead guilty or not guilty to his own accusation and was therefore subjected to the peine forte et dure, pressed to death by stones piled upon him. Rosenthal rightly states:

The stories of Giles and Martha Corey are very closely related, but it has been Giles about whom more legends and stories have been told than about any other Salem witch-trial victim […]. The trials may have been mainly about women, but the legends of specific individuals, as opposed to faceless witches in Halloween suits, have been mostly about men, and about Giles Corey more than any other. (159)

While Giles’ development from a superstitious supporter of the trials to proud and steadfast critic is traced in both plays, Wilkins Freeman brings Martha Corey’s courage and rationality to the forefront. As such, contrary to what the title suggests, her play is as much, if not more, about Martha Corey than about Giles – and hence marks a valuable contribution to female authorship and female characters in 19th-century fiction.

While the 20th century brought forth a much smaller amount of Salem literature, it produced the most popular one of all: Arthur Miller’s 1953 The Crucible has in many ways overwritten Salem history in the cultural memory; in fact, many Americans know about the events through Miller’s play only. Boyer and Nissenbaum thus self-ironically state: “the Salem witch trials are best known today through the work of a playwright, not a historian.” (Salem Possessed 22) What is more, the play is as famous for its setting in Puritan Salem as for its time of origin, the ‘Red Scare’ of the early 1950s which made the 1692 events eerily resurface. Strikingly similar in theme and setting is William Carlos William’s neglected play Tituba’s Children (1950, publ. 1961); he, too, parallels colonial Salem and Washington, D.C. in 1950. Hence, both plays are included in my corpus.

Regarding the boom of Salem literature since the millennium, I will have to limit myself to a couple of significant contributions: Ann Rinaldi’s A Break with Charity, published in the year of the Salem tercentenary in 1992, marks the first major success in an endless row of popular (young-adult) novels taking to the Salem story. Tailored to a contemporary juvenile audience, Rinaldi tells the events from the perspective of an involved girl, Susanna English, underlining the timelessness of the protagonist’s experience. Equal in outlook is Kathleen Kent’s 2008 The Heretic’s Daughter which takes on the point of view of Sarah Carrier, one of the most controversial children in the history of the Salem trials; Sarah fatefully confirmed her mother’s accusation as a witch. Katherine Howe’s 2009 The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane as well as her 2014 young-adult novel ←18 | 19→Conversion both tell two-plot stories: one set in 1692 and one set in the present, until they eventually converge. By doing so, Howe puts a new turn on the lasting appeal of the Salem story. A Salemite herself, Brunonia Barry’s three novels, The Lace Reader (2006), The Map of True Places (2010) and The Fifth Petal (2017) are all set in contemporary Salem with a strong focus on the town’s memory culture and the reverberation of the past in the present. After years of email exchange, I had the great luck to meet Barry personally in 2017; my conversations with her will be used as a reference in my analyses. Adriana Mather’s young-adult novel How to Hang a Witch (2016) lacks narratological depth but serves as a valid example of popular juvenile Salem literature and features many motifs encountered also in more critically acclaimed works.

I am aware that I am mixing different text types in my analysis – narratives, that is, novels and short stories, and dramas. Both genres stand to reason: Katharine Hodgkin and Susannah Radstone state in Memory – History – Nation that “memory stories, in western tradition, are most familiarly told in narrative,” (13) allowing a strong emotional connection to the reader by taking on the perspective of one (or more) characters involved in the events. Hence, especially first-person narrators are frequently used in (contemporary) Salem literature; the personal tragedies of the events are predestined for this text form which enables a deep insight into their situation. Birgit Neumann states:

In this staging of individual and cultural memory, narrative texts can fall back on a broad spectrum of aesthetic techniques, ranging from characteristic features of narrative mediation to the representation of the inner world, time and space, to intertextuality or the design of plot patterns. (“The Literary Representation of Memory” 335)

And as will be seen, all these points hold true for the cultural memory of Salem in the novels and short stories of my corpus. Regarding my selection of four dramas, the genre fits the dramatic quality inherent in the events itself – the trial records almost read like a theater play.11 Moreover, as Neumann writes, “[t]‌he action of the past can be understood as a sequence of episodic memories and thus as a dramatic analogue to the narrative representation of consciousness.” (340) To include only the one or the other genre would hence make an incomplete analysis.

In order to discern uniting elements and their function in the construction of literary Salem, I will close-read the works of my corpus under multiple thematic ←19 | 20→aspects (though the length of discussion varies), following the idea of narratology. I shall quote Neumann once again:

Narratology […] has proven to be of great value in the exploration of the representation of memory. Narratological approaches draw attention to formal-aesthetic characteristics of literature and thereby bring into view the fictional possibilities for world- or memory-creation. (333)

My work will be divided into two big blocks with five chapters each, one on works set in Salem in 1692 and one on those set in contemporary Salem – the publication date of the works is not decisive for my allocation. Within these blocks, my work will be structured as follows: After a brief historical discourse on witchcraft persecutions in general and in Salem in particular, chapter I.1. targets the most pervasive image of the historical place in the cultural memory, namely that the town whose name ironically translates into peace12 has turned into the failure, if not the outright inversion of John Winthrop’s 1630 vision of the virtuous “city upon a hill”; I will use this sermon as a vantage point. By way of example, in DeForest’s Witching Times the narrator recalls how

Men became more credulous, suspicious, and cruel-hearted, just in proportion as they grew more frantic with terror and fanaticism. The excitement was of a nature to develop the worst traits of the Puritans and change even their virtues into vices. The real piety and kindness of the many was for a time paralyzed; and those now disgraced the Christian religion who would willingly have laid down their lives for its glory. (126, emphasis mine)

Summary

To this day, Salem, Massachusetts, is synonymous with the witch trials of 1692. Their unique pace and structure has not only made the infamous town a strong cultural metaphor, but has generated countless novels, short stories, and plays over the past 200 years. This book marks the first comprehensive analysis of literary Salem and its historical as well as contemporary significance, from Nathaniel Hawthorne’s literature of the 19th century to Arthur Miller’s The Crucible to a growing corpus of contemporary fiction.

Details

Pages
336
ISBN (PDF)
9783631849033
ISBN (ePUB)
9783631849040
ISBN (MOBI)
9783631849057
ISBN (Hardcover)
9783631839959
Language
English
Publication date
2021 (May)
Tags
American history American literature witch trials memory studies comparative studies
Published
Berlin, Bern, Bruxelles, New York, Oxford, Warszawa, Wien, 2021. 336 pp., 3 fig. col.

Biographical notes

Clara Petino (Author)

Clara Petino received her PhD in North American Studies from the University of Cologne and has taught American literature at Heinrich-Heine-University Duesseldorf. She has conducted comparative research in 19th- and 20th-century literature and has published in Studies in the American Short Story and TOPUS: Space, Literature, and other Arts.

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Title: Salem – A Literary Profile