The murderess in the twenty-first century is a figure of particular cultural fascination; she is the subject of innumerable books, websites, documentaries and award-winning movies. With female violence reportedly on the increase, a rethinking of beliefs about women's natural propensity towards violent and aggressive behaviours is inevitable. Using the Victorian period as a central focus, this thesis explores the contradictory ideologies regarding women's violence and also suggests an alternative approach to the relationship between gender and violence in the future. A study of violent women in representation reveals how Victorian attitudes towards violence and femininity persist today. On the one hand, women have traditionally been cast as the naturally non-aggressive victims of violence rather than its perpetrators; on the other hand, the destructive potential of womanhood has been a cause of anxiety since the earliest Western mythology. I suggest that it is a desire to resolve this contradiction that has resulted in the proliferation of violent women in representation over the last one and a half centuries. In particular, an analysis of mid-nineteenth-century popular fiction indicates that the stronger the ideal of the angelic woman was, the greater the anxiety produced by her demonic antithesis. Wilkie Collins's Armadale and Mary Elizabeth Braddon's Lady Audley's Secret illustrate both the contradictory Victorian attitudes towards violent women and a need to reconcile the combination of good and bad femininity that the murderess represents. Revisiting the Victorian murderess in the late twentieth century provides a potential means for resolving this contradiction; specifically, it enables the violent woman to engage in a process of self-representation that was not available to her in the nineteenth century. Margaret Atwood's Alias Grace suggests that any insight into the murderess begins with listening to the previously silenced voice of the violent woman herself.

This thesis examines how the parliamentary debate in Sweden saw the consequences of Swedenas a nation were to join the European Union. The nation is defined as a state based on nationalself-determination. The EU is regarded as a supra-state organisation and one of the moreextensive efforts of its kind. I specifically examine two themes in Swedish foreign policy. Theseare the nonalignment policy and migration policy. Through a discourse analysis I show that allpolitical parties perceive consequences for the self-determination and all argue selfdeterminationwill be lost in the event of membership. However, they are divided in what theybelieved this would lead to. Some parties support EU whereas others are sceptical of EU. Partiesthat support an EU-membership argue that it is inevitable to join and Sweden will lose selfdeterminationanyway. A membership opens the possibility to influence and participate, but anabstaining will lead forced acceptance of policies. Many of the supporters are even positive ofbeing a member in EU. Sceptics, on the other hand believe Sweden will lack influence and loseall self-determination. The organisation itself is against Sweden as it is a supra-stateorganisation, which may reduce the role of single member-states. For the nonalignment policy,the government initially use it as an argument against EU, but later support membership if thenonalignment policy can be kept. The other supporters acknowledge the nonalignment policy,but nevertheless assert that EU is compatible with the nonalignment policy. This is because ofthe changes in the geopolitical situation. Sceptics believe the nonalignment policy rejectmembership, mostly due to the still uncertain geopolitical situation and the suspicion EU willdeprive Sweden of its decision-making. Sometimes they suggest the self-determination andnonalignment policy are prerequisites for each other. In the migration policy, all parties supportgenerous migration policy, but

Fairy tales are adapted to fit the needs of each generation, reflecting the unique challenges of that society. In the 1980s and 1990s of the United States, issues of what constituted a family circulated as divorce increased and fatherhood was debated. At this time, Disney released two animated films featuring a father and daughter: The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast. Both films are adaptations of fairy tales, and they incorporate changes that specifically reflect concerns of the United States in the late-twentieth century. In the original narrative of "The Little Mermaid" the heroine is primarily raised by her grandmother and wants an immortal soul more than the love of the prince. The tale ends with her death and expectation that after 300 years of service, she can obtain an immortal soul. Disney changes the story, however, by removing the grandmother and placing Triton at the head of the family. His overbearing nature pushes Ariel away as she struggles to gain her independence and win Eric's love. Before the story concludes, Triton, Ariel, and Eric work together to defeat the sea witch and achieve the film's happy ending--the creation of a traditional family. The fairy tale of "Beauty and the Beast" begins with a father who is educated, respected, and wealthy before hardship strikes. Beauty's request for a rose is what starts the adventure as she must learn to love the Beast to save him from an enchanted curse. Disney's alterations to the narrative make Maurice an ineffectual father whose inadequacies bring Belle to the Beast's castle, and the modified curse on the Beast makes both him and Belle need to fall in love, founding their relationship on equality. The tale concludes with the jubilant hope that the couple will form a family together. Both animated features proved popular with the public, suggesting that the films' resolutions are considered desirable endings. The films can then be interpreted as expressing the hope that from the single-parent homes of the late-twentieth century, a new generation of stronger nuclear families can arise if these homes base their relationships on unified efforts and equal partnerships.

Cette thèse commence comme une simple question en réponse au modèle du « parfait flâneur » que Baudelaire a élaboré dans Le peintre de la vie moderne (1853): un flâneur peut-il être imparfait? Je suggère trois interprétations possibles du mot « imparfait ». Il permet d’abord de sortir le flâneur du strict contexte du Paris du dix-neuvième siècle et permet des traductions imparfaites de personnages dans d’autres contextes. Ensuite, le flâneur déambule dans la dimension « imparfaite » de l’imagination fictionnelle – une dimension comparable à l’image anamorphique du crâne dans la peinture Les ambassadeurs de Holbein. Enfin, il réfère à l’imparfait conjugué, « l’imparfait flâneur » peut rappeler le personnage antihéroïque de l’humain dont l’existence est banale et inachevée, comme la phrase « il y avait ». Ces trois visions contribuent à la réinterprétation du flâneur dans le contexte de la fin du vingtième siècle. Mon hypothèse est que l’expérience urbaine du flâneur et la flânerie ne sont possibles que si l’on admet être imparfait(e), qu’on accepte ses imperfections et qu’elles ne nous surprennent pas. Quatre études de romans contemporains et de leurs villes respectives forment les principaux chapitres. Le premier étudie Montréal dans City of forgetting de Robert Majzels. J’examine les façons par lesquelles les personnages itinérants peuvent être considérés comme occupant (ou en échec d’occupation) du Montréal contemporain alors qu’ils sont eux-mêmes délogés. Quant au deuxième chapitre, il se concentre sur le Bombay de Rohinton Mistry dans A fine balance. Mon étude portera ici sur la question de l’hospitalité en relation à l’hébergement et au « dé-hébergement » des étrangers dans la ville. Le troisième chapitre nous amène à Hong-Kong avec la série Feituzhen de XiXi. Dans celle-ci, j’estime que la méthode spéciale de la marelle apparait comme une forme unique de flânerie imparfaite. Le quatrième chapitre étudie Istanbul à travers The black book d’Orhan Pamuk. Inspiré par les notions de « commencement » d’Edward Saïd, mon argumentaire est construit à partir de l’interrogation suivante : comment et quand commence une narration? En lieu de conclusion, j’ai imaginé une conversation entre l’auteur de cette thèse et les personnages de flâneurs imparfaits présents dans les différents chapitres. / This dissertation begins with a simple question in response to “the perfect flâneur” model that Baudelaire elaborated in his 1853 essay “The Painter of Modern Life”: can a flâneur be imperfect? I suggest three possible inferences behind the word “imperfect.” First, it should liberate the flâneur from the strict context of nineteenth-century Paris, and allows for imperfect translations of the figure into other urban contexts. Second, the flâneur also strolls in the “imperfect” dimension of fictional imagination, a dimension comparable to the anamorphic skull in Holbein’s painting The Ambassadors. Third, in the grammatical meaning of imperfect verb tenses, “imperfect flâneur” can also refer to the anti-heroic figure of the living, whose existence remains incomplete and mundane as in the phrase “it was.” All three implications contribute to the reinterpretation of the flâneur in late twentieth-century contexts. My premise is that to experience the city as a flâneur, or to make flânerie possible in the city, one should concede being imperfect, anticipate imperfections, and come to terms with them. Four in-depth studies of contemporary novels and their respective cities constitute the main chapters. Chapter One reads Robert Majzels’s City of Forgetting and Montreal. I examine the ways in which homeless characters could be said to occupy – or, fail to occupy – contemporary Montreal from their dislodged position. Chapter Two focuses on Rohinton Mistry’s A Fine Balance and Bombay. My reading evolves around the question of hospitality in relation to the accommodation and un-accommodation of strangers in the city. Chapter Three brings us to XiXi’s Feituzhen series and Hong Kong: I address the special method of hopscotching as a unique form of imperfect flânerie in XiXi’s works. In Chapter Four, I study Orhan Pamuk’s The Black Book and Istanbul. Inspired by Edward Said’s notions of beginning, I frame my argument with the enquiry: how and when does a narrative begin? In lieu of Conclusion, I imagined a conversation between the writing subject of this dissertation and the imperfect flâneurs featured in each chapter.