This book shines much-needed light on the history, structures and films of the Amharic film industry in Ethiopia. Focusing on the rise of the industry from 2002, until today, and embedded in archival, ethnographic and textual research methods, this book offers a sustained and detailed appreciation of Amharic-language cinema. Michael Thomas considers 'fiker'/love as an organising principle in national Ethiopian culture and, by extension, Amharic cinema. Placing 'fiker' as central to understanding Amharic film genres also illuminates the continuous negotiations at play between romantic, familial, patriotic and spiritual notions of love in these films. Thomas considers the production and exhibition of films in Ethiopia, charting fluctuations and continuities between the past and the present. Having done so, he offers detailed textual readings of films, identifying important junctures in the industry's development and the emergence of new genres. The findings of the book detail the affective characteristics that delineate most Amharic genres and the role culturally specific concepts, such as fiker, play in maintaining the relevance of commercial cinemas reliant on domestic audiences.

'Batman's Hill, South Staffs' is non-linear sequence of poems set largely in Staffordshire, between 1961 and 1972. Quietly contemplative and playful with language, the poems derive their energy from the dialogue between memory and hindsight, the moments where the present - physically, or through lived experience - throws a clear unrelenting light on the past, 'coming for you in the dark'.

""And, as always, the wake of the sun caused temporal havoc. A Razalian hour passed normally enough, then shrank to ten minutes, then sneezed out a good half-day, then stabilised at an hour and a bit. Bobbing on the top of planetary time like corks in a bucket, the three moons spread out and were still - this time like kids glued to a screen. For, as the sunlight disappeared and the minutes passed more confidently, Razalia shook off its desolation. Across its face, a million torches shone under the amethyst skies: Razalian faces, each its own sun." Small, unfinished, more like a blueprint for a world than the real thing, Razalia props up one end of the Arc of the Fifteen Planets. In some places, its landscape looks like the efforts of a water-colourist suddenly called away from his easel. The Razalians live with the gaps - those spaces of unfathomable white - in many of their ridges, valleys, forests. And then the white begins to move..."