In Book 6 of Apuleius’Metamorphoses, Lucius contemplates his possible death at the hands of the robbers. After one robber threatens to throw him off a cliff, he remarks to himself how easily such an act would kill him (Met.6.26):‘uides istas rupinas proximas et praeacutas in his prominentes silices, quae te penetrantes antequam decideris membratim dissipabunt? nam et illa ipsa praeclara magia tua uultum laboresque tibi tantum asini, uerum corium non asini crassum, sed hirudinis tenue membranulum circumdedit. quin igitur masculum tandem (...) sumis animum tuaeque saluti, dum licet, consulis?’‘Do you see that ravine nearby and the sharp rocks jutting into it which will impale you before you hit the bottom and tear you limb from limb? For that wondrous magic of yours gave you only the appearance and hardships of an ass, but in truth it surrounded you not with the thick hide of an ass but with the thin little membrane of a leech. Why not, therefore, take up your manly spirit at last and seek your safety while you can?’Lucius seems to contradict the description of his metamorphosis at 3.24:pili mei crassantur in setas, et cutis tenella duratur in corium, ‘my hair thickens into bristles and my thin skin hardens into hide’.Met. 6.26 suggests that Lucius’ metamorphosis may not be as complete as it initially seemed: his skin is not the thick hide of an ass but the delicate membrane of a leech. This passage is further complicated by a textual dispute: where all modern editions and most translations readhirudinis, ‘leech’, our earliest and best manuscripts havehirundinis, ‘swallow’. I propose that we should restore ‘swallow’ on the testimony of these manuscripts and because it better reflects Lucius’ initial desire for an avian rather than an asinine transformation. My examination of this passage will also highlight the liminal nature of Lucius’ metamorphosis. Despite his apparent physical transformation, he remains caught between the human and the animal worlds in both mind and body. (shrink)

This chapter discusses the extent to which it is feasible to talk of a black Brazilian literary tradition that is somehow cohesive, conscious of itself and self-reflective. In looking at works by black fiction writers during the second half of the twentieth century, such as Romeu Crusoé, Oswaldo de Camargo, Cuti, Geni Guimarães, Marilene Felinto and Muniz Sodré, it suggests that writers of African descent who self-identify as black Brazilians are to a large extent bound by identification with region as (...) much as they are with skin colour, in a similar way to other ‘ethnic’ writers in Brazil. (shrink)