From expansive glittering dance halls to the ways cramped bathrooms and dressing rooms become undeniably intimate gatherings, Queer Nightlife journeys through spaces and social landscapes constructed ephemerally and under the cover of night—sites of pleasure, performance, and collective labor by and for LGBTQIA+ individuals navigating systemic marginalization and ongoing social pressure. This anthology explores the myriad ways queer communities emerge in daily life and endure frequently violent social and political economies that surround them. Contributions from 25 authors and artists in various disciplines examine nightlife as performance—a method of inquiry to establish how bodies “hold and repurpose history” (3). The collection is thoughtfully organized by tracing pathways through the night, including themes of “Before,” “Inside,” “Show,” and “After,” to temporally situate the diverse array of essays that are otherwise unbound by geographic location or a moment in history. Collectively, Queer Nightlife intentionally centers the voices of queer and trans people of color whose perspectives and labor have been historically underrepresented in academic literature.

At the Intersection of Disability and Drama offers an expansive collection of deeply personal perspectives within the disability community—21 new plays by 21 playwrights who grapple with the complexities of navigating a society that assumes a narrow representation of the true human experience. From Amy Oestreicher’s An Open Letter to the Usher at the Theatre Who Asked Me if I Was “the Sick Girl” (52) to Bradley Cherna’s profound account of being immunocompromised during a pandemic in The Plague Plays (347), each work unapologetically dismantles stereotypes about the experiences and appearances of those in the disability community. The text is arranged into three sections. The first includes autobiographical plays in first-person perspective, and others that bring in external voices surrounding a solo performer. The second section, “Past Is Present,” features four plays in which the writers mine their memories or recount another subject’s voice to call back the stories of those who are no longer with us. Each play is accompanied by a short essay from one of the editors—providing context and bringing into conversation additional relevant scholarship. A welcoming preface and an introduction by John Michael Sefel offer guiding notes on “Disability Aesthetics,” the diversity of language, and how both have been shaped over time by members of the community. This anthology is rigorously crafted, intersectional, and intentionally accessible for students, casual readers, and scholars alike. The collection also notably includes a brilliant foreword by Calvin Arium in the form of a two-page comic spread. The illustrations introduce the use of “person first” and “disability first” language, while highlighting various characters who may (or may not) identify themselves as members of the disability community. Arium reminds us, “this book is for all of them” (3).

In Attention in Performance, Kilian draws upon her expertise in acting and anthropology to examine how gaps in anthropological research methodologies might be served by the manifold sensorial skills and training approaches employed by actors. Each of eight chapters is dedicated to an actor whose process was influential to the author’s work. Kilian provides generous personal accounts of her interactions and collaborations with these figures. She offers a concrete strategy highlighting various training methods commonly utilized in acting to heighten the senses and focus the power of attention and observation in ways that may be fruitful for anthropologists. In one such example, she dedicates an entire chapter to a formative experience in her study of acting that led her to the repeated careful observation and imitation of a tiger. This process she later analyzes as a sort of hypnotic state or mimetic experience facilitating a quality of presence required in both acting and anthropological fieldwork. While immensely detailed and intriguing, the text can meander at times and feel a bit opaque when referencing the work of other scholars or describing various personal anecdotes.

In The Performances of Sacred Places, Battista brings together nine chapters by scholars in performance, cultural, and religious studies to examine the nature of sacred places—how they exist in locations real and imagined, and how they are perceived and shared in conventional and emergent ways. The text is divided into three sections, beginning with “Crossing,” which investigates themes of traversing, journeying, pilgrimage, and process. The second section, “Breathing,” includes Battista’s compelling chapter, “The Introspective Theatre of Spirits Read Foucault,” examining the author’s experiential and digital performance practice that leads participants into internal, sensory, invisible processes of vivid visualization. Passing beyond and obscuring a threshold of what is real or imagined, Battista invites participants and readers into a “theatre of the inside” (148). “Resisting” presents multiple perspectives on how resistance and ritual can represent or even transform markers of history into sacred places and acts. From transcultural dialogue confronting the devastation of colonialism on faith traditions to the architectural gesture of monuments and memorials, part three explores the grounds of remembrance marking shared and public space.

Through extensive primary and experiential research based mainly in the Atlantic port city of Essaouira, Becker examines how Gnawa cultural identity emerged during the decline of slavery in Morocco at the beginning of the 20th century. She credits Africanist art historians for inspiring her interdisciplinary, multisensory approach that “acknowledges the living, dynamic, and kinetic character of African expressive culture” (23). This study is supported by the author’s travels throughout Africa and attendance at more than 50 Gnawa spirit-possession ceremonies in Essaouira, in addition to the examination of colonial-era imagery and representation of Blackness in popular media. Becker’s remarkable work asserts that Gnawa cultural legacy unites people from various regions in Africa under a unique identity of Blackness whereby shared performing arts and spiritual practices serve to heal communities from the obscured history of enslavement. Blackness in Morocco is an immense interdisciplinary contribution that will appeal to cultural historians, anthropologists, and scholars of North Africa, the visual arts, and performance studies. Her attention to detail and approachable use of language is welcoming also to students of these disciplines.

Cinematographer Mario Masini (b. 1939) recounts his colorful experiences capturing on film the works of Carmelo Bene (1937–2002) in this slim memoir that has been translated from Italian to English and French to encourage broader study of Bene’s work internationally. The book is arranged into recollections from specific films, told from Masini’s perspective, aided by editor Carlo Alberto Petruzzi. Included are specific details and stories from the making of Nostra Signora dei Turchi (Our Lady of the Turks; 1968), Don Giovanni (1970), and Salomè (1972). Masini recalls the immense creativity and intensity involved in collaborating with Bene, describing various experimental in-camera effects he created, managing all camera and lighting angles on set with little assistance, and the unexpected conditions he found himself working in. He describes Bene as affectionate and respectful—“an uncontrollable, unstoppable volcano of ideas” (44). Masini’s collection of stories here provides a charming and personal account of his experiences on-set in making mid-century avantgarde cinema.