

































Babcock

72

Dreams, Doors, and Death: Exploring Liminal Space 
and Mortality in Exit West and The Farming of  Bones

Grace Babcock, Ball State University

Oftentimes, the most complicated Oftentimes, the most complicated 
narratives challenge the permanence of narratives challenge the permanence of 
death by emphasizing the impermanence death by emphasizing the impermanence 
of the human experience. This is of the human experience. This is 
frequently accomplished through the frequently accomplished through the 
creation of liminal spaces in text, which creation of liminal spaces in text, which 
become almost purgatorial in their become almost purgatorial in their 
function. Here, characters choose to function. Here, characters choose to 
confront and embrace the inevitability confront and embrace the inevitability 
of death or to reemerge into life. In of death or to reemerge into life. In 
Edwidge Danticat’s Edwidge Danticat’s The Farming of BonesThe Farming of Bones, , 
the linear historical narrative her main the linear historical narrative her main 
character Amabelle creates is interspersed character Amabelle creates is interspersed 
with bolded sequences that draw from with bolded sequences that draw from 
both her memories and her dreams. In both her memories and her dreams. In 
order to come to terms with the trauma order to come to terms with the trauma 
of the Haitian Massacre, these chapters of the Haitian Massacre, these chapters 
communicate Amabelle’s physical communicate Amabelle’s physical 
and psychological turmoil. Similarly, and psychological turmoil. Similarly, 
Moshin Hamid’s Moshin Hamid’s Exit WestExit West centers on  centers on 
refugees Nadia and Saeed’s multiple refugees Nadia and Saeed’s multiple 

The idea of  death, often either 
personified as a skeletal, scythe-wielding 
figure cloaked in black or deconstructed 
into a vast, foreboding void, has long 
enticed creators because of  its ambiguity, 
its inherent and abstract unknowability. 
In order to fully complete an exploration 

passages through doors blackened passages through doors blackened 
by the sudden, spontaneous creation by the sudden, spontaneous creation 
of international portals. As the couple of international portals. As the couple 
moves through several doors and across moves through several doors and across 
several borders, their relationship to each several borders, their relationship to each 
other and themselves constantly evolves. other and themselves constantly evolves. 
Amabelle’s dreams are manifestations Amabelle’s dreams are manifestations 
of her acceptance of death and embrace of her acceptance of death and embrace 
of her mortality, while the portal-of her mortality, while the portal-
doors function as avenues for rebirth. doors function as avenues for rebirth. 
Thus, Hamid and Danticat explore Thus, Hamid and Danticat explore 
the complicated relationship human the complicated relationship human 
beings have with death and mortality beings have with death and mortality 
in the wake of trauma through their in the wake of trauma through their 
rich descriptions of liminal space.rich descriptions of liminal space.



of  mortality without engaging with the permanence of  sacrificing a key character to the 
so-called “other side,” many writers often choose to create an environment that exists 
between life and death, a liminal space that becomes almost purgatorial in its function and 
construction. Both Edwidge Danticat and Mohsin Hamid are two such novelists. Both 
choose to use liminal space as the primary environment for their characters to confront 
their mortality head-on. In Danticat’s The Farming of  Bones, the linear historical narrative 
her main character Amabelle creates is interspersed with ephemeral, bolded sequences that 
draw from both her memories and her dreams. In order to come to terms with the trauma 
of  her parents’ deaths and reconcile the life she lived with both Dominican and Haitian 
loved ones in 1937, Amabelle uses these chapters to communicate her emotional, physical, 
and psychological turmoil. Similarly, Hamid’s Exit West centers on refugees Nadia and 
Saeed’s multiple passages through doors blackened by the sudden, spontaneous creation 
of  international portals. As the couple moves through several doors and across several 
international borders, their relationship to each other and themselves evolves to each new 
environment. When analyzing these two texts in conjunction, the border between life and 
death becomes increasingly hazy. There is pain on either side, and there is growth on either 
side. Hamid and Danticat explore the complicated relationship human beings have with 
death and mortality in the wake of  trauma through their rich descriptions of  liminal space.
 To clarify, the aim of  this argument is not to equate the experiences of  the characters 
within these two texts, nor is it meant to erase the key differences in each novel’s unique 
historical context. The Farming of  Bones is a realist text set in 1937, before, during, and after 
the Parsley Massacre. Exit West is a magical realist novel set in the modern day, aiming to 
complicate and criticize the contemporary world’s treatment of  Middle-Eastern migrants. 
Rather, the synthesis of  these two texts is designed to analyze how these two authors 
reconcile trauma (especially that which results from state-sponsored violence) with the 
inevitability of  death and reflections on corporality. Both choose to develop a sort of  liminal 
space to explore the complexities of  mortality, but their characters approach their survival in 
diverse ways. Similarly, both operate under a sort of  shared sense of  cultural liminality, one 
that closely identifies with that outlined by critical cultural theorist Homi Bhabha. 
 Culture, to Bhabha, inherently exists in what he calls the “realm of  the beyond” 
(Bhabha 1). Essentially, he describes a sort of  cultural liminal space tied to the development 
of  personal and communal development. Bhabha claims that this tension between 
the weight of  the past and the pull of  the present, this “process of  displacement and 
disjunction” is representative of  adaptation, of  cultural and personal growth (Bhabha 8). 
Through this discomfort and acknowledgement of  the complexities of  history, characters 
like Amabelle, Saeed, and Nadia have the opportunity to reconcile their past trauma with 

Babcock

73



their current lived experience. By using Bhabha’s conceptions of  liminal culture as the 
common thread that connects these two descriptions of  the “in-between” spaces that 
“provide the terrain for elaborating strategies of  selfhood” and redefine personal identity, 
the linkage between Hamid and Danticat’s liminal spaces becomes self-evident (Bhabha 2). 
Amabelle, Saeed, and Nadia all reemerge from liminality radically different from when they 
first entered that middling space. 
 The liminal spaces employed by Danticat are inherently a part of  Amabelle herself. 
The space is created by her independent desire to reflect on her internal, rich bank of  
memories and her experience of  vivid, moralistic dreams. As a child, Amabelle experienced 
dreams that made her feel caught between the realm of  humanity and the supernatural 
spiritual world. She insists that playing “with [her] shadow made [her] feel less alone,” and 
that even the real people (including Sebastien Onius, the who Amabelle loves above all else) 
around her occasionally felt like they were “one of  them” (Danticat 4). In her memories, 
the borderland between life and death is blurred as ghosts meld with people, as dreams 
bleed into reality. Similarly, when Amabelle nearly dies from a severe fever as a child, her 
dreams remind her that her life, while impermanent, is not quite over; Danticat personifies 
death in the creation of  Amabelle’s animated voodoo doll. The doll assures Amabelle that 
she “will be well again,” and that she will live to be “a hundred years old, having come so 
close to death while young” (Danticat 56). These initial experiences, though loosely tied to 
the trauma of  adolescence and illness, familiarize a young Amabelle with the death that she 
will eventually confront. Danticat uses the liminal space of  Amabelle’s childhood dreams as 
an introduction to the harsh realities she will soon face. This liminality reminds her of  life’s 
volatility, yet shields her from the brutal experience of  living as a Haitian in the Dominican 
Republic that will later characterize her adulthood. 
 Though Amabelle is conscious of  human mortality from both the beginning of  the 
narrative and her life as a whole, the liminal space created by her memories makes death far 
more tangible to her, far more traumatic. In the same bolded passages that detail Amabelle’s 
dreams, Danticat interweaves memory with Amabelle’s linear lived experience. This is yet 
another instance of  a blurred border complicating Amabelle’s relationship to her interior 
self. The first traumatic memory with which Amabelle and the audience are confronted 
occurs when she details her recollection of  the day her parents died. While Amabelle 
describes how she watched her parents drown in the raging Dajabón River, she recalls how 
she screamed so intensely that she could “taste blood in [her] throat,” lending an aspect of  
physical and emotional trauma to the scene (Danticat 50). Though she attempts to swim 
after her parents, to join them in their fight for survival, she is pulled back to life by two boys 
who remind her that “unless [she] wants to die…[she] will never see those people again.” 

Babcock

74



(Danticat 50). As Amabelle continues to survive, to outlive both her parents, she slowly 
begins to process her trauma internally, choosing silent and dreamlike reflection as a method 
of  reconciliation with her past. According to Megan Feifer, Danticat draws attention to both 
Amabelle’s emotional turmoil and her personal growth by creating a transition of  “grief  
from that of  posttraumatic shock to a longing to narrate” her lived experiences (Feifer 45). 
Feifer notes that Amabelle’s recovery fluctuates, that the transition may be linear but is not 
necessarily direct. She moves through her trauma in waves, grieving at the same time she 
heals through expression. In this liminal space, Amabelle is directly confronted not only with 
mortality and the border between life and death, but with survivor’s guilt. In order to process 
this internal conflict and to avoid transgressing this border, she turns inward. She leans 
back into her dreams and her memories to rediscover her parents and reconnect with her 
emotions. 
 In Hamid’s Exit West, the liminal space detailed in text takes on a far more physical 
element. It is represented by a sort of  supernatural, border-challenging door that opens to 
another part of  the world. Identified only by their internal blackness, these doors allow free 
passage into a random, alternative spot across the seven continents; obviously, for those who 
seek refuge from their native homeland, these doors offer them a chance at a sort of  “new 
life.” Nadia and Saeed, who live in a unspecified, war-torn country located somewhere in the 
Middle East, travel through these doors in order to both save their lives and salvage their 
burgeoning romantic relationship. Almost immediately after they travel through their first 
door, Hamid employs his first description of  liminal space using the terminology associated 
with death and rebirth. Nadia, the character who is arguably the more emotionally aware 
partner in her relationship with Saeed, remembers that passage through the doors was 
known to feel “both like dying and being born” (Hamid 104). Upon embracing the darkness 
and emerging on the other side, Nadia notes that she felt “a kind of  extinguishing” in her 
mind and body (Hamid 104). Both like a dying elder and a newborn baby, Nadia cannot 
stand and fights for breath after emerging through the portal-door. For Nadia and Saeed, 
there is a definitive “before” space and a definitive “after” space as they exchange one 
location for another, their native culture for a foreign one. They make a deliberate choice to 
walk through the door, and their bodies pay a physical price for supernaturally moving across 
time, space, and land. They are transformed, entirely different from the two people who first 
embraced the darkness of  the door.
 Similarly, the diction that Hamid uses to describe Nadia and Saeed’s life both before 
and after their transition through time is riddled with reminders of  mortality. Saeed moves 
out of  his homeland with Nadia, a decision that means isolating his widowered father who 
wanted to stay close to Saeed’s mother’s grave. Hamid makes it known to his audience 

Babcock

75



that, much like death, the passage through the portal-doors is a permanent decision, one 
that radically alters both an individual’s life and the lives of  the people around them. Saeed 
recognizes that when a person makes the decision to migrate, they “murder from [their] lives 
those [they] leave behind” (Hamid 98). In using such extreme comparisons, Hamid raises the 
stakes of  migration of  this kind; Saeed and Nadia have to initially choose their lives together 
over the lives they had independently curated at home. The “death” of  their past lives forces 
both characters to come to terms with the precariousness of  their travels, of  their lives. 
In order to move forward, to make progress, Nadia and Saeed have to recognize that their 
movement requires sacrifice. Both the companionship and the culture they were used to is 
radically and permanently altered. 
 In both cases, the liminal space created by the authors creates an avenue for self-
reflection and personal growth. Amabelle matures rapidly because of  her past traumatic 
experiences, but as a consequence she becomes an increasingly internal, isolated person, 
while Nadia and Saeed in contrast must cling to the familiar, to each other, in order to 
navigate their new world post-portal. Both authors explore mortality and impermanence, but 
their creation of  liminal space ensures that both characters process their struggles in ways 
that are culturally and personally affirming. This choice once again reflects Homi Bhabha’s 
definition of  liminality, especially when he asserts that liminality is the “connective tissue” 
of  identity (Bhabha 5). Without this in-between space, human beings would struggle to 
understand themselves and their position in their communities. In this sense, Danticat and 
Hamid are essentially exploring different reactions to change, loss, and grief  in the context 
of  an “interstitial passage,” especially one that “entertains difference” in interpretation and 
narrative result while still acknowledging the impermanence of  the human experience and 
the unknowability of  one’s own fate (Bhabha 5). Their liminal spaces in text provide the 
“room” for each character to grow into a new, fuller version of  themselves because of  the 
flexibility these spaces offer. 
 However, given that Amabelle’s space is entirely confined to the inside her own mind 
while Nadia and Saeed’s space is externally represented by the portal doors, it is important 
to make the distinction between their experiences with liminality. Since Amabelle reflects 
exclusively on the internal level, she cannot share her trauma in the same way that Saeed and 
Nadia can. Through a shared bodily experience, a passage through a physical door, Nadia 
and Saeed can empathize with each other’s feelings on a more intimate level. Conversely, 
Amabelle’s experience is deeply personal to her. While her dreams and memories give her the 
necessary space for recovery, she has trouble commiserating with fellow orphans and fellow 
refugees because they cannot know exactly how she carries her trauma. According to scholar 
Oana-Celia Gheorghiu, Nadia and Saeed’s passage through the doors instantaneously allows 

Babcock

76



their “bodies to move as fast as [their] minds,” lending their experience the proper physical 
vocabulary to communicate their trauma to both one another and their fellow refugees 
(Gheorghiu 88). Amabelle has no such language, choosing instead to communicate to the 
audience alone through the dialogue of  her dreams. Though the function of  both spaces is 
essentially identical, the recognition of  the key difference in physicality reveals the different 
strategies for healing. Amabelle’s is fueled by pensiveness, reflection, and an embrace of  the 
past, while Nadia and Saeed’s is fueled by commiseration, communication, and an embrace 
of  the present moment. For Nadia and Saeed, the doors are a physical escape; for Amabelle, 
her dreams and her memories are an emotional safe haven.
 The bolded sequences in Danticat’s work quickly grow from the simple narration of  
dreams and memories into a space for Amabelle to actively process her trauma. However, 
her growing preference towards her internal experience rather than the establishment of  
supportive networks outside her own mind ultimately prevents her from being able to 
embrace her new experience, her life after the massacre. As critic Eliana de Souza Ávila 
remarks, Amabelle initially experiences a sort of  “numbness” after the massacre, an innate 
“disidentification from the surreal horror” that the death of  her friends and even the loss of  
Sebastien thrusts upon her already grief-stricken body (de Souza Ávila 27). Though she finds 
safety and refuge across the Haitian border with Yves, Sebastien’s friend (and, momentarily, 
her lover), Amabelle cannot fully release herself  from her past, attempting simultaneously 
to nurse her new traumas while preventing old ones from tearing open once again. She 
does so by turning inwards, crossing into her own liminal space. In a dream, Amabelle 
conjures a dust storm where people who she cannot identify walk before her. Embodied as 
her childhood self, she clings to her father and mother’s hands. However, when the storm 
subsides and the dust settles, Amabelle is left alone, with her “hands raised up, in motionless 
prayer,” as if  abandoned by every person meant to guide her (Danticat 137). This dream, 
intentionally crafted by Danticat, is to encourage the reader to recognize Amabelle’s isolation 
and the inherent impermanence of  her situation, of  her life. Almost every person she has 
loved has slipped through her fingers like sand, crossed over the border of  death and left her 
feeling entirely alone. She is precariously caught between life and death, and transgressing 
this border means embracing her family but sacrificing her new relationships, her new 
experience. In visualizing the chaos as a dust storm, Amabelle is able to grapple with her 
isolation, to give herself  tangible meaning to her grief  and loneliness. 
 Amabelle further confronts and soothes her mounting grief  by recognizing the 
healing power of  her dreams after first speaking with other survivors. They attempt to 
provide her with support but can offer no salve as potent for Amabelle as her own inner 
sanctuary. She speaks with Yves, with his mother, Man Rapadou, and Sebastien’s mother, 

Babcock

77



Man Denise, all in hopes of  finding closure; while she emerges from each conversation 
with more strength, she is also reminded of  her grief, of  the things she had lost. After all 
these conversations, Danticat includes one of  the longest bolded passages yet, allowing 
Amabelle the space to arrange her complicated feelings and understand that her old life 
has disappeared, has died with many of  her loved ones. In her dream, she claims that the 
“dead season is, for [her], one never ending night,” and that the only way to ease her pain 
is to cross into “heaven,” or the “veil of  water that stands between [her] parents and [her]” 
(Danticat 262). The fact that she frequently emerges from her liminal space, from her 
dreams, from her heaven, is the only thing that “makes [her] alive” (Danticat 263). Literary 
critic Jennifer Harford Vargas asserts that, “in her interior life,” Amabelle becomes the 
most cognizant of  her suffering and comes to terms with it by meditating “on her own 
shadows and hauntings by fusing them with collective losses and disappearances” (1166). By 
giving her loved ones new life in her mind, Amabelle transcends the previously solid border 
between life and death. However, she cannot exist in this liminal space permanently despite 
the relief  it gives her from her “internal struggles” and “the pain of  her losses” (Vargas 
1166). She compares her dreams to an “amulet” that protects her “from evil spells,” from 
experiencing further suffering (Danticat 264). She is slowly discovering that, in order to 
truly heal from her trauma, she must embrace the hurt, her grief, and her life’s transience by 
leaning into her past.
 Nadia and Saeed, however, come to terms with their losses together. Since they do not 
carry their liminal space with them, since their memories do not feel tangible like Amabelle’s, 
they can grieve as a pair and, eventually, as a collective. According to scholar Michael Perfect, 
Hamid extends the liminal space of  his portal-doors to the descriptions of  refugees across 
the world, stating that migrants are “between roads and next to boundaries, and they sleep 
in the margins of  streets” (191). Upon trying to navigate their new environment and their 
evolving relationship, Nadia and Saeed become increasingly aware of  their surroundings. 
They initially cling to one another for support. They pitch their tents together, sleep in the 
same bed, share the same food, and make joint decisions on when and where they want to 
go next. They shield one another from extra pain by providing each other with reminders 
of  home. They notice that their own migration, their own difficulty, is similar to every other 
person who passed through that marginal, liminal space between the portals. According to 
scholars Knudsen and Rahbek, the fluid migration and the suffering that often accompanies 
it in Exit West is “intrinsic to human nature,” and the experiences of  Nadia and Saeed are 
recognized as almost universal (445). They recognize that loss is a part of  movement, that 
“this loss unites humanity” and their ability to understand the “temporary nature of  our 
being-ness” allows them to find support and comfort (Hamid 203). Even when cognizant 

Babcock

78



of  the inevitability of  dying, “in the face of  death,” both Nadia and Saeed are aware that 
a better world for themselves, for their families, and for their peers is possible (Hamid 
203). They find solace in community, in collectivity; they see impermanence represented in 
themselves and in their fellow portal migrants. 
 However, the strain of  migration and the constant pressure of  becoming houseless, 
starved, or marginalized like the people they see around them strains their relationship. As 
they grow into two separate people, their idea of  what their lives should be changes. Nadia is 
socially active and areligious, while Saeed is internal and deeply spiritual. They simultaneously 
feel “friction,” “resentment,” “love,” and “loyalty” towards one another, but their tension, 
proximity, and shared trauma prevents them from attaining comfort and happiness in their 
new existence (Hamid 203). Their connection makes them feel caught, pulled between their 
lives before the portals and their lives after. They make the decision to separate as they have 
made every other: together. Hamid calls attention to the end of  their relationship by framing 
it as a sort of  passing on. He notes that the end of  a couple is a “small death” in and of  
itself  (Hamid 205). The “notion of  death, of  temporariness” is highlighted through Nadia 
and Saeed’s breakup, through their mutual decision to cut ties, but so too is the “value of  
things,” especially their lives (Hamid 205). At the end of  the novel, Nadia and Saeed are 
completely at peace, but they are completely separated. Nadia has found companionship 
with a cook, Saeed with a pastor’s daughter. Love still exists between them, but it is not 
romantic; the consequence of  their continuing lives is their relationship. In order to live on, 
to escape the constant middle-existence the portal passages and border-crossings presented 
to them, their partnership must come to an end.
 The final scene of  The Farming of  Bones, in contrast, is one of  reunion in death. After 
weeks of  existing between her dreams and her new reality, Amabelle makes the decision to 
travel once more over the border to make a final visit to her old home in the Dominican 
Republic and the Massacre River. As she stands before the place her parents died, the place 
where hundreds of  Haitians were murdered, and the symbolic resting place of  Sebastien, 
Amabelle makes one final reference to the salvation of  her dreams. She claims that she 
looked to them “for softness, for a gentler embrace, for relief  from the fear of  mudslides 
and blood bubbling out of  the riverbed” (Danticat 308). She sees the river as “Sebastien’s 
cave, [her] father’s laughter, [her] mother’s eternity,” and so as she floats atop its waters “like 
a newborn in a washbasin” (Danticat 308). She surrenders her life over to her dreams, over 
to her past. She embraces life’s impermanence by launching herself  into her dreams, living 
amongst her family rather than her painful new memories. She heals her trauma by leaning 
into her own mortality, by accepting it with the sense of  peace that was not afforded to her 
parents, to her beloved. Her trauma is healed through dreaming, through reunification. 

Babcock

79



 The climaxes of  The Farming of  Bones and Exit West explore both the 
acknowledgement of  death and of  life, but the decision to accept life’s impermanence is 
carried out by Nadia, Saeed, and Amabelle to differing degrees. The choice to embrace death 
or rebel against it reveals the long-term effects of  emotional pain and the volatility of  life; 
both sets of  characters have to survive in tumultuous, unfamiliar settings, yet both react 
differently. In both these instances, Amabelle, Nadia, and Saeed develop new “strategies of  
selfhood” as a result of  their passages through liminal as described by Bhabha (Bhabha 2). 
While Nadia and Saeed’s senses of  identity have been strengthened by their communities, 
Amabelle’s is uniquely “singular” because of  her choice to embrace her own dreams, her 
own memories of  the past (Bhabha 2). Though Amabelle’s ultimate fate is intentionally left 
ambiguous, she acknowledges her mind and her dreams as her safe haven. She decides in 
her final moments to side with her memories and her lost loved ones, to cease her internal 
liminality by excluding herself  from her post-massacre life. Amabelle reconciles with her 
trauma by exploring and embracing death, choosing to “reunite” with the figures she lost in 
both her dreams and at the conclusion of  the novel. Conversely, Saeed and Nadia choose 
to embrace their new lives after traveling westward, choosing to appreciate their lived 
experience for what it is, while they have it. After confronting liminality and emerging from 
the other side, Nadia and Saeed are reborn. However, the end of  their relationship still 
reflects the impermanence of  the human experience. While Amabelle’s journey concludes, 
Nadia and Saeed’s just begins. After the doors, Nadia and Saeed are bright, alive, and 
separated; after her dreams, Amabelle is tranquil, at peace, and reunited. 

Babcock

80



Works Cited

Bhabha, Homi K. The Location of  Culture. Routledge, 1994.

Danticat, Edwidge. The Farming of  Bones. Soho Press, 1998.

de Souza Ávila, Eliana. “Decolonizing Straight Temporality Through Genre Trouble in 
Edwidge Danticat’s The Farming of  Bones.” Ilha Do Desterro: A Journal of  English Lan-

guage, Literatures in English and Cultural Studies, no. 67, 2014, pp. 21-36, https://doi.
org/10.5007/2175-8026.2014n67p21. 

Feifer, Megan. “The Remembering of  Bones: Working through Trauma and the Counter Ar-
chive in Edwidge Danticat’s The Farming of  Bones.” Palimpsest: A Journal on Women, Gen-

der, and the Black International, vol. 9 no. 1, 2020, p. 35-49. Project MUSE, doi:10.1353/
pal.2020.0011. 

Gheorghiu, Oana-Celia. “As If  by Magical Realism: A Refugee Crisis in Fiction.” Cultur-

al Intertexts, vol. 8, no. 8, 2018, pp. 80–93. https://doaj.org/article/70ebc85a4ef-
54d8aa901d7b35a35b15c.

Hamid, Mohsin. Exit West. Penguin Publishing Group, 2017.

Knudsen, Eva, and Ulla Rahbek. “Radical Hopefulness in Mohsin Hamid’s Map of  the 
World: A Reading of  Exit West (2017).” Journal of  Postcolonial Writing, vol. 57, no. 4, 
2021, pp. 442–454. Taylor and Francis Online, https://doi.org/10.1080/17449855.20
21.1889641.

Perfect, Michael. “‘Black Holes in the Fabric of  the Nation’: Refugees in Mohsin Hamid’s 
Exit West.” Journal for Cultural Research, vol. 23, no. 2, June 2019, pp. 187–201. EBSCO-
host, https://doi.org/10.1080/14797585.2019.1665896.

Vargas, Jennifer Harford. “Novel Testimony: Alternative Archives in Edwidge Danticat’s ‘The 

Farming of  Bones.’” Callaloo, vol. 37, no. 5, 2014, pp. 1162–80. JSTOR, http://www.
jstor.org/stable/24265199.

Babcock

81


