Bowie consists of twenty-one short chapters that function as a collection of conceptual fragments. Bowie's artistic work already provides a series of different periods each with its own stock of identities which could easily be comprised into different sections of this book according to, as Critchley calls them, illusions he inhabited, both musically and aesthetically. Although a sense of linearity is present, as the author tends to give an overview of albums and his own fan sensibilities, dividing the book according to Bowie's own artistic eras is avoided. The division into twenty-one chapters is much closer to breaking Bowie's work into conceptual categories that are present throughout his career and are related to questions of identity, sexuality and desire or sometimes even Bowie's own life in the background of it all. Still, as the author notes at the very beginning of the book – it is important not to conflate Bowie as a persona of popular music with his work. It is a popular approach in music journalism and production of music biographies to somehow look behind the performance in search of traumas that might have provoked an artist to perform in a specific mode. This is in its own a desire of authenticity always present with popular music that Critchley seeks to deconstruct in order to give more layers to Bowie's music, or as he is approaching it – poetry. ...

The aim of this paper is to show how Atwood’s reformulations of myths contain hidden political messages from ancient and modern history and can be interpreted from Fredric Jameson’s views on ‘symbolic acts,’ discourse and the ideology of form. Several scholars have explored the symbolic relationship between the three major protagonists in The Robber Bride and fragments of the omnipotent image of the Neolithic deity the White Goddess. As the symbolic counterparts of Diana, Venus and Hecate in the novel, Tony, Roz and Charis demonstrate how women’s integrity has been crippled and how the restoration of female principle is just a utopian idea. However, our analysis has revealed that the younger generation of “goddesses” does not bring hope to the female gender in either the present or the future. Augusta, Paula and Erin symbolize oversimplified and parodied versions of the destructive Hecate in an unpromising world and “the not-good place” that resembles a dystopia. Keywords: Margaret Atwood, The Robber Bride, the White Goddess, a dystopian world, Hecate, Fredric Jameson...

Časna majka podigne pogled prema nebu kao da na njemu traži Božji znak dok joj je u očima oteklim od cjelonoćne molitve zablistala suza.– Kažete, sestro, da stari profesor odbija ići na misu?– Tako je, časna majko. Osim toga proklinje i vrijeđa presvetu Djevicu Mariju.– Nije važno, sestro. Odvedite ga u šetnju vrtom.– Da, časna majko.– Sestro…– Molim, časna majko?– Neka izgleda kao nesreća. Jedne noći nisam mogao zaspati, pa mi je mama stavila pod jastuk knjigu Put u središte Zemlje, rekla je da ću, ako brzo zaspim, sanjati baš te pustolovine. I kako sam te noći sanjao da sam se spustio do samog središta Zemlje, otada svake noći pod jastuk stavljam knjige, stripove i časopise koje želim sanjati. Kada sam se upisao na fakultet, oduševljeno sam otkrio da trik funkcionira s bilješkama, videosnimkama i fotografijama mojih kolegica. Tako sam diplomirao s najboljim ocjenama, zaradio gomilu novca i ostvario što god sam si zacrtao, sve dok mi večeras supruga nije zaprijetila da će me ostaviti ako ne bacim u smeće taj prastari jastuk iz djetinjstva. Jedva sam je uspio nagovoriti da na njemu odspava do jutra i sama otkrije zbog čega mi se toliko sviđa....

Prvi sam put vidjela Lamberta na dan velike oluje. Nebo je bilo tamno, oblaci nisko, na pučini je već snažno grmjelo.Stigao je malo poslije mene i sjeo na terasu za stol na vjetrometini. Sunce mu je udaralo u oči, mrštio se, kao da plače. Promatrala sam ga, ne zato što je izabrao najgori stol, niti zbog grimase na licu. Gledala sam ga jer je pušio poput tebe, zureći u prazno, palcem trljajući usne. Usne možda suše od tvojih.Pomislila sam da je novinar, ekvinocijska oluja, iz toga bi mogle ispasti dobre fotografije. Iza lukobrana, vjetar je dizao valove, boreći se sa strujama Raz Blancharda iz dalekih crnih rijeka, sjevernih mora i podmorja Atlantika.Morgane je izašla iz gostionice. Ugledala je Lamberta."Niste odavde", reče, upitavši ga što će naručiti.Govorila je mrzovoljnim glasom, kao i uvijek kada je za lošeg vremena morala posluživati goste."Ovdje ste zbog oluje?"Odmahnuo je glavom."Onda zbog Préverta? Svi ovamo dolaze zbog Préverta...""Tražim prenoćište", napokon izusti.Slegnula je ramenima....