Showing posts with label Amanda Tapscott. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Amanda Tapscott. Show all posts

Sunday, April 9, 2017

Something to Harp About

Well, I've spent a good week tracing my memory for the original story, "Orpheus," and I don't think I've ever heard it, despite how familiar the word Orpheus sounds. That's a shame because I'm really into the Underworld setting, fairies are the only mystical creature that never fail to interest me (this I've known since 5th grade), and "Sir Orfeo" is definitely one of my favorite medieval tales thus far. It would be enriching to read where it came from.

I found myself most attracted to and fascinated by the symbolism imbedded in the tale. Most memorably, this version retains the original symbol of a harp. A harp free associates well in my mind. I think of Greek Gods looking to the Heavens and stringing their harps like they're making love to them - something angelic and passionate. Harps sound like poetry, and with all those strings, it takes a lot of skill to play one. Both Orpheus and Sir Orfeo are known for their mad harp skills. In fact, it's his harping that ultimately grants Sir Orfeo his wife:

Minstrel, your harping pleases me,
So ask whatever it might be,
And generously your boon I'll grant.
Now speak, and tell me what you want.
(Lines 449-452)

Of course, the Fairy King has to let us know he doesn't want to give Sir Orfeo's wife up but that he will, since he just said he'd do anything. What a nice guy! Who knew he was such a man of his word, let alone a man so moved by strings. You know, it's really a surprise that anyone keeps his word when he doesn't want to. If an evil fairy king can keep his word when he doesn't want to, why can't you?


After the Fairy King teaches us to stay true, Sir Orfeo reminds us to stay humble. First of all, this guy and his wife were the king and queen, and they aren't even recognized when they return to Winchester. Okay, maybe the lack of technology and passage of time can explain that one, but Sir Orfeo is still smart enough to remember that he really ditched out on his people, they might not understand why, and they might even hate him, so it's probably not be a good idea to reveal himself in his return without giving it much thought.

Instead, he chills on the outskirts of town and stops by a "beggar's hut by the city wall" (Line 486) to get the inside scoop on his kingdom. Then, he puts on "a suit of borrowed rags" (Line 501) and goes into town with his harp on his back with intent on finding out how loyal his people really are. I have to admit, I was looking forward to some drama in the kingdom upon his return, but once his squire's loyalty is clear, Sir Orfeo reclaims his throne and everything is pretty much happy ever after. Oh well, this anticlimax still teaches me two things:
  1. Love deserves your time and energy above all.
  2. Those who love you will not stop loving you when you're gone.

Nine Medieval Romances of Magic,re-rhymed in modern English by Marijane Osborn.


Sunday, March 26, 2017

#TeamPalamoun

I’ve actually enjoyed Parts One and Two of “The Knight’s Tale” more than I anticipated, mostly because I assumed I had already read every possible plot outline for a story about a knight, and I assumed any tweaks Chaucer made would fail to impress me, but I was wrong. Chaucer provides us with a rich backstory about King Theseus, Queen Ipolita, their kingdom, and their two prisoners: Arcite and Palamoun. The unique dynamic the backstory sets up between knight and lady is rather exciting for me. As we’ve seen a few times before, there are actually two knights who love one lady, and it’s clear from Part One that there will be some sort of struggle between the two knights over that lady. However, in this story, the two knights are also brotherly cousins and rightfully locked up in the dungeon; they can see and hear the lady they both claim to love, but they cannot speak to or touch her. In addition, one knight is granted freedom from the prison but is exiled so that he could not possibly have a chance to speak to or touch the lady.


At the end of Part One, Chaucer asks us who is worse off: Arcite or Palamoun? I thought I’d make a list of pros and cons:

Arcite                                                                          Palamoun
Pros
Cons
Pros
Cons
·      Not in prison
·      Free to find another lady
·      Free to start a war with Theseus
·      Cannot see, hear, speak to, or touch Emelye
·      Can see and hear Emelye
·      In prison
·      Cannot speak to or touch Emelye


As you can see, the only thing Palamoun initially has over Arcite is that he can still see and hear Emelye. Arcite has much more over Palamoun, so his lack of sensory stimulation altogether doesn’t seem to matter so much. Besides, the pros and cons don’t really matter anyways when both nights disobey their fate. Arcite disguises himself so that his cons are entirely eliminated; then, Palamoun escapes prison to fight Arcite to the death. At this point in the tale, I feel like Palamoun deserves Emelye more than Arcite. I mean, he stays locked up for some seven years, finds out Arcite hasn’t been banished from Emelye after all, and he’s still down to fight to the death over her. Palamoun is a true knight. #TeamPalamoun.

Chaucer adds another exciting quality to this tale: Theseus provides both knights with an entire army to fight each other. (At least, that’s my understanding of what’s about to go down in Parts Three and Four.) Wait a second…why do they need armies if the fight is between the two of them? Are they still going to fight each other as knights would, meaning the armies are for show, or are they going to sit back and compete their war strategies as kings would? Couldn’t Theseus just give the better army to the knight he favors? Couldn't he conduct the demise of both prisoners, since they both ulitmately committed more crime and disobeyed their fates? I don’t know man, but this story is heating up, and I’m really nervous to find out what happens in Parts Three and Four. Poor Emelye, by the way…it's hard to choose between two guys who aren't good enough in the first place. I mean, she's a fresh, bright, flower goddess (flowers most likely signifying her virginity); are these prisoners really the only guys trying to court her?


"The Knight's Tale" in The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer

Monday, March 20, 2017

This Woman Just Wants Food

Because however bad we are within,
We want to be thought wise and free from sin.
(Lines 943-944)
            
Although I’ve read Chaucer’s “The Wife of Bath’s Tale” before, I had no idea it was inspired by Gower’s “The Tale of Florent.” Whoever had this copy of Nine Medieval Romances of Magic before me marked up Chaucer’s tale quite remarkably…no pun intended. He or she definitely loved to highlight and color code, so I didn’t have to read Gower’s tale (or even the little introduction) to discover and analyze the similarities and differences between the two. I have to say, I’m kind of glad Chaucer added the rape because it creates a more interesting story, even if “more interesting” includes the fact that there’s a “happy ever after” for the rapist knight in the end. Let me emphasize this a little more in case Chaucer didn’t hear me in his grave: YOU GAVE THE RAPIST KNIGHT A HAPPY EVER AFTER DUDE.  WHY? I understand that a male raping a female is relevant to the hierarchy of the sexes that practically produces women’s desire for power, but I’ve still always hated it about the tale, so I’m excited to read “The Tale of Florent” and pretend the rape never happens. Anyways, there’s nothing else about the tale I have to complain about it. I was a little shaken up when I read that King Arthur’s court didn’t have a feast because, you know, that’s what King Arthur’s court does best, but that’s exactly what makes the absence of a feast especially significant, so I get it. I just wanted a feast. Food is the answer to the riddle, guys.


 The concept of a male trying to find out what a woman wants in general is classic, and Chaucer writes the search as a literal quest, which is rather humorous to me. I mean, I’m imagining a medieval man, post-argument with his wife, posed like “The Thinker,” and the thought bubble above his head is like, “What do these women F*CKING WANT? SOS.” Jump cut: he hops on his noble steed and rides off into the countryside. There’s a music overlay as he inquires far and wide about the answer. In the end, his wife just wants him to let her on top more… Come on, guys, that’s hilarious.


 I’m curious to see how other people interpret the old, ugly woman the knight meets because, to me, the riddle has no single answer if every woman the knight speaks to desires something different. I think the desire for sovereignty is unique to the hag, even though “no woman, wife, or maid, or widow” contradicts the knight when he gives it to King Arthur as the answer. I think the hag strips herself of any actual power when she asks, “Then have I got the upper hand, since I may choose and govern as I say?” Then, she only becomes both fair and good because her husband gives her permission to choose between ugly and good or fair and (possibly) bad, which is just so nice of him that her magic unlocks the options for her - I guess. Girl, you say power is what you want most. No one ever said that power had to be granted to you by a man. Are we to assume that a woman can only obtain power if a man gives it to her? (For Christ’s sake, Word (2010) won’t even let me type that last sentence with the female pronoun before the male pronoun. I’m pissed.) Seriously, where’s the tale where a woman takes power away from a man without his permission?


"The Wife of Bath's Tale" in Nine Medieval Romances of Magic by Marijane Osborn.

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Let's Play a Game

Okay, I want to talk about Guinevere because I've read this story before, and I'm most fascinated with the queen's character. I’ve read quite a few stories about Queen Guinevere, and her character never changes too much. She usually represents a pretty powerful female role – one that makes decisions and takes action – so it surprises me that King Arthur asks her to be passive and that Mélégant so easily takes her back to his land as his prisoner in “The Knight of the Cart.” Guinevere doesn’t even put up a fight! To me, this weakens her character. Whether she likes being held hostage and used as man-bait or simply got tired of being badass, Guinevere goes from queen to damsel in distress too quick.

It also irritates me that Guinevere’s character becomes so cold towards Lancelot when he first comes to Gorre to save her, but in some ways, her coldness also shows me that she’s still a little badass inside. She’s the damsel, and he’s the hero, but Guinevere isn’t ready for her “happily ever after.” Somehow, she knows Lancelot hesitated to ride in the dwarf’s cart in the beginning of the story. Omniscience is badass. (That’s right, boys. Women know everything. Women have always known everything.) Perhaps she wants Lancelot to understand that there’s nothing more shameful than thinking twice about love…

OR maybe Queen Guinevere is secretly Queen Drama who is obsessed with creating high-energy, tense, life-or-death situations.  Guinevere lets Lancelot fight Mélégant when he accuses her of sleeping with Kay. It’s not worth pointing out, since I never read a truly logical story for one of Dr. MB’s classes, but the logic behind this accusation is…well, stupid. Nonetheless, Guinevere watches Lancelot do her dirty work for her…for the second time. I guess I can’t blame her for just wanting to watch Lancelot sweat, but why does she ask him to lose the fight until he’s losing; then, she asks him to win? It’s like Guinevere is playing a game the entire story – a game that she thinks will either prove or disprove Lancelot’s love for her, but she has to know he loves her the entire time. To Guinevere, there is no proof or disproof of love unless she denotes it as such.
Yup, this is how I view Guinevere.
"The Knight of the Cart" by Chrétien de Troyes.


Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Never Judge a Beast by His Body

Wouldn't it have been great to be an intellectually advanced, rational man in the twelfth century, able to convince your wife that you actually become a werewolf on the days you sneak away to your lover's chambers?

Bisclavret's wife admits she's hesitant to question him specifically because she fears his anger, even though he is convincingly calm and sweet when she admits this - so convincingly that she announces, "...now I'm cured!" Let's keep in mind, the only thing she's questioning are his whereabouts over the course of three days...that's about half a week! She should be the angry one! However, I can't blame the girl. She's only trying to foreshadow the fact that half of him physically becomes a beast.

When she finally does ask, Bisclavret says, "'I become a werewolf: I go off into the great forest, in the thickest part of the woods, and I live on the prey I hunt down,'" (and how does he say he goes? Stark naked? Yeah, I'm sure you do, bud. Your side babe probably finds the werewolf fantasy sexy too.)



Bisclavret's wife responds to the apparent truth that her husband becomes a werewolf on the days he is missing without surprise; she expresses no shock or amazement that her husband does this. It's as if it's normal for people to become werewolves, and perhaps, to her, it is. Either way, her only response is to further question him - this time, on the whereabouts of his clothes. At this point, Bisclavret had already declared, "'There's nothing you could want to know that, if I knew the answer, I wouldn't tell you.'" Hence, he reveals the location of his clothes as well. It's after this truth that the wife expresses "fear" or "terror" for "the whole adventure," or the whole idea of her husband in physical beast mode. (She doesn't even want to sleep with his savage ass.) Wait...I thought the only thing she had to fear was his anger? WAIT...the beast is the anger. The husband's physical werewolf state is the symbolic representation of actual, emotional anger, which Bisclavret doesn't express at all until his wife betrays him. The wife fails to separate the physical world from the emotional one. She immediately decides to telephone a new lover, but I don't know why. Is she getting even?




The wife's betrayal seals Bisclavret in his lean, mean werewolf body forever, just like he says it would. However, the king and his court recognize that Bisclavret may look like a beast, but his mind is still human. His gratitude toward the king and his court for protecting him makes sense, and his anger towards his wife and her new husband also makes sense. I'm glad there was a handy-dandy wise man to speak up for this sense in defense of Bisclavret by informing the king that there must be a reason why the beast is nice to everyone except two specific people. 

At this point in the poem, my little cheating metaphor falls apart entirely and it becomes clear that this lai is more about fear, anger, and mistrust than anything. The poem ends with the only punishment worse than death for this wife: banishment and a noseless lineage. Fine, but...is this nose thing supposed to be humurous? I agree that it would stink (no pun intended) to live without a nose, but it can't possibly have any significance, can it?


The Lais of Marie de France. Translated, with an introduction and notes, by Robert Hanning and Joan Ferrante. (1978)