Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

It has become clear throughout all of our Grail Quests that the Grail is unattainable. I found it particularly interesting that Indiana- the "superhero" or "action figure" who always wins (or, really, takes the treasure) in the end- actually does not get the Grail in the end. I think it is an indication that no person can have it- not even Indy! (And it's Indy's job.) While the Grail is often viewed as a representation of religion or an understanding and appreciation for the maternal, I feel that all of our quests so far have had included an even deeper meaning behind the Grail: the maturing of the main character. In all three of our quests, the main character has been immature, brash, and naive in regards to appreciation of the feminine. Indiana is impulsive and often acts like a teenager, especially with the woman with whom he sleeps and then falls into the trap of. He does not appreciate his family- much like our other two 'knights'- and, likely because he seems to have no living mother figure in his life, must come to acknowledge his father. He also embarks on an "impossible" journey. This journey, though- through all three of the quests- is actually seeking to end the human habit of ignorance and immaturity. Indeed, all three of our 'knights' set on "pointless" journeys- though here, the journey is the most important part. The real point is not for them to eventually possess the Grail, but that they grow into a better human being while on the journey. Being able to let go of the Grail is the ultimate test of the quest- the ability to let something go when they know they should. Persse had to learn to let go of his infatuation with Angelica's image, and to become an adult who acted responsibly rather than impetuously. In Indiana's case, he came extremely close to getting the Grail- but his father knew that Indiana had to act like an adult, be smart (and stop endangering his life), and let it go. In letting the Grail go, Indiana is actually attaining it after all: he has matured into a true man, a worthy 'knight'- which was the point all along. He- and the other knights- have to recognize that there is more beyond the dangerous quest, and that one should work to live a life that is good and charitable, rather than one that is focused on attaining immortality.

Small World, part four

1. How do you feel about the end to Persse's story? Was there a resolution? Did he make the right decisions?

Wow. This character's ending was nearly infuriating. While most of the other characters make some sort of movement or transition at the end of their stories (such as Zapp and Kingfisher), Persse seems to not learn anything; in fact, it seems as though he takes a step backwards. After spending all of his time and money on his quest in following Angelica (and listening to others when they tell him to continue in a display of his own naivety), he finally finds out that she never wanted him after all. Angelica, the woman he told himself he deeply loved, is even cruel in her "gentle" way of letting him down: knowing that he has been chasing her across the world, she allows him to run longer instead of ever sending him (so perhaps his university) a message telling him to stop; she has already involved herself with another man and is engaged; and she sends her twin, of all people, to break the news. Angelica has burnt Persse bad; and yet at the end, he decides to hopelessly chase yet another woman. (She even states outright to him his ridiculous views of love: "Persse, I'm trying to tell you that you're not really in love with Angelica...you were in love with a dream" 326; even this does not seems to affect him.) Persse essentially has the immature romanticism of a teenager, but with the passport and budget of an adult: he believes each chase to be after the woman he truly adores and needs; and he relies on Cheryl as his "back-up plan" after having lost Angelica. He has proved that he's learned nothing at the ending; apparently his disillusionments about Angelica would never repeat themselves with another woman. Furthermore, he is now pursuing a woman he knows even less; he has barely spoken to Cheryl at all, and seems to convince himself of his liking for her. I think Persse should just act as he really feels: he should admit to loving being a lost foreigner, get a Visa, and pitch a show to the Travel channel. I had so much hope in Persse, but Lodge once again proves himself a superior writer in his choice to display the character as, unfortunately, a real person would act.

Small World, part three

1. This section covers a plot arc in which Philip meets Joy and they reassume their relationship; but shortly after he decides not to break ties with his wife. Is he making the right decision by staying with Hilary? What do you think will happen to his character and his relationships?

To be honest, when I wrote this question, I had solidified an answer, and by the time I got down to this part of the typing, I have begun to doubt myself. I am truly confused as to what the right decision for Philip is. He is caught in a very difficult situation, but it is notably all his fault. If he had separated from Hilary long ago, when he began to feel as though the marriage was over, he may have saved himself, and Hilary, much trouble and pain. "We nearly separated ten years ago. I think we should have done," Philip states (221) to Joy while on the train; and he makes another point for their divorce: "I've stood in Hilary's way. She'd do better on her own" (221). Though this may be another of his excuses to forget her, it is true that their marriage is probably holding both of them back. Furthermore, my personal beliefs influence my statement that they should just get separated. I believe that couples should separate if they truly believe they might have to, most particularly for their children's sake, but also for their own mental health. On the other hand, there appears to be a rekindled flame after Philip kissed Hilary in the taxi. This leads to a confounding conflict: who does he stay with? At the end of the chapter, it seems as though he spares Hilary the bad news out of cowardice to let her down; but it seems to me as though he is hopeful that they will repair their relationship. Though he believes that he loves Joy (which he states quite rashly to someone with whom he has only spent one night), it is probably the equivalent of Calisto's love for Melibea in The Celestina: he lusts after her, but does not truly know her well enough to love her. Philip probably feels a responsibility in taking care of his child, but he is turning it into an idealized life with a person he barely knows. Hilary is a person whom he truly fell in love with; he had new experiences with her, lived with her for many years, and once felt a passion that may now be returning. I'm not sure what to do, but I'm sure Philip will figure something out (though it is guaranteed that someone will be hurt in the end).

2. What are your thoughts on Persse's journey so far? Will he reach his goal? Has he changed at all?

In my opinion, Persse is mirroring his model character (Perceval), by entertaining a pretty impossible task. To locate a person somewhere in the world without any solid information proves to be much more difficult than he thought. (Of course, he set off with the naive hope that he could find her or her family within a whole country). It seems as though Persse's obstacle in completing his journey is the same as Perceval's: himself. Persse becomes overconfident and overwhelmed by his romanticism, forgetting the logical point of view, and instead brashly setting on a quest with little information to work on. He is still naive, without changing at all as a character (much like Perceval). For whatever reason, he acts betrayed by Angelica's (seeming) actions to lead a life as a stripper/some sort of performer; he then proceeds to judge her, and seems to think that because of this profession, he cannot be with her. (As Zapp points out, a man might marry a woman of such a profession because "perhaps he wouldn't know" (201)...thus, Persse's quest for a perfectly innocent woman is likely in vain. He will probably need to compromise a partner's past at some point, but does not seem to realize this.) Persse is still a static character, still allowing his emotions and romantic fantasies to get the best of him; but hopefully, he will change soon, and find his Angelica in another quest.

Small World, Part 2

1. In this section of the text, Arthur Kingfisher (Lodge's rendition of the Fisher King) is introduced. How is he different or similar to Chretien's rendition? How does the character's presentation differ?

Chretien's description of the Fisher King is "a handsome nobleman with greying hair seated upon a bed" (Chretien, 419); he is sure to imply an older but wise and poised gentleman. Conversely, Lodge presents Arthur in his signature form- facing the flaws upfront and unabashedly. He is first found lying spread-eagle and naked on his bed (a notably much less dignified position to be in). His body is imperfect and aged, but handsome nonetheless. He is being attended to by an Asian woman, and it is noted that he is impotent (Lodge, 93). While the Fisher King's introduction is enigmatic but stately, Arthur's introduction is confusing and slightly graphic. The Fisher King's handicap is accepted and almost respected by Perceval (and the wound was acquired in battle (Chretien, 424)), while the reader may feel slightly taken aback or bothered by Arthur's impotence. (Though it can be inferred by the reader that the Fisher King's wound represents impotence, Chretien is still far more reserved in his presentation of the handicap.) Overall, the Fisher King is presented in a far more dignified manner than Arthur is, in line with all of Lodge's blunt and candid treatment of each character's "real" downfalls and less desirable characteristics. The Fisher King's treatment by Perceval is refined; Arthur's treatment by Lodge is candid and unforgiving. While Perceval must focus on the mystery of the Grail, the reader must wonder about Arthur's impotence. I believe that, in the same way the Fisher King's injuries are a result of the out-of-control violence of knighthood, Arthur's impotence is a result of attacks and stress within the out-of-control competitive world of literary academics. (I think it is noteworthy that impotence is considered by many to be a primarily psychological rather than a physical condition, and I believe that will factor into our understanding of the character).

2. In this section of the text we encounter a sudden sweeping-in of a whole new group of characters. Why does Lodge do this? How is it similar to Chretien's story?

Lodge's swift introduction of more than ten new characters could be seen as a summary of the collection of characters from Perceval's story. Each literary professional from each different region or country may represent all of the knights from different countries that Perceval/Persse encounters, and must befriend or defeat, on his quest. This sudden divergence from Persse's story is similar to Chretien's sudden interruption of Perceval's story in order to focus on Gawain's travels. Just as Chretien only returns to Perceval's story momentarily, Lodge only jumps back to Persse for a second, but does end the section with his situation. Unlike Chretien, who presents new characters to the reader the same way they are abruptly met with by Perceval, Lodge introduces each character in full detail before Persse even knows of them. This correlates with Lodge's writing style, which involves presenting a situation in full depth, without adjusting or polishing his characters in order to glorify them for the reader (in fact, he appears to do the opposite, making sure to bring out their flaws immediately). Most, if not all, of these characters are introduced as being lonely or depressed (or both): Rudyard Parkinson and Akira Sakazaki both live alone, Morris Zapp's and Philip Swallow's marriages are both dead, Howard Ringbaum and Michel Tardieu are both shown unsure in their relationships; and the list goes on. Lodge is clearly comfortable with depicting the more realistic, and often darker, side of life.

Small World, part one

2. Persse is first introduced to the reader with his simple quote: "April is the cruellest month" (3). Here, readers get a quick glimpse at his recognition of literary eloquence. Despite his constantly lyrical inner monologue (that often quotes the works of his favorite authors, such as the beginning quote), he is clearly quite reserved and cautious in conservative speech. The author's and Persse's observations seem to mesh, since the narrator mirrors the main character's careful articulation. The most important point in Persse's first appearance is perhaps the fact that he barely speaks at all (and this strangely beckons Dempsey to a rambled confession). He only talks when he finds a topic of interest to him, such as when he challenges Dempsey to complete a rhyme: "But, you know, they very seldom get further than the first line. There aren't many rhymes to 'Limerick'" (7). Though Dempsey thinks himself triumphant, Persse corrects him, proving his intelligence without an outward show (unlike nearly all of the other male characters): "The metre's all wrong...'Limerick' is a dactyl" (7). Persse's blushing in response to Dempsey's crude rhyme is also telling: he obviously is uncomfortable with any communications about sex, and quite a prude. Persse is the opposite of practically every other man attending the conference (including his ability to be respectful towards others). Despite his regular logical posture, though, it takes only the entrance of a beautiful woman for him to lose his cool altogether. Persse is definitely not the typical masculine figure: he is immature and naive, and is most notably a hopeless romantic (three qualities that tend to correspond with each other).

3. Rummidge is described, overall, as a pretty disgusting and disappointing place. The first paragraphs of the story describe in-depth the utter failure of the setup of the conference. The attendees are clearly in "dismay" (3); their accommodations include "stained and broken furniture...dusty interiors of cupboards [without] coat-hangers...and narrow beds, whose springs sagged dejectedly in the middle, deprived of all resilience by the battering of a decade's horseplay and copulation" (3). The rooms, food, service, and lectures are all dissatisfactory, leaving the attendees glum. Nature itself seems in opposition to the conference: "Persse gazed...at the unseasonable snow crusting the lawns and flowerbeds of the Rummidge campus" (3). This is perhaps a parallel of the Waste Forest; both settings are the decayed origins of the quest and rite of passage of the naive main character. Lodge attempts to show that the main character will be moving above and beyond the restrictions of their first setting; and thus growing as a person.

4. Angelica is presented as breathtaking (literally for Persse) in her first appearance: a crowd appears to part at her entrance to the room, making a direct path between the two. Before any qualities are described (in true Chretien style) Persse internally proclaims that she is "the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life" (8). The narrator then goes on to describe her as "tall and graceful, with a full, womanly figure, and a dark, creamy complexion". Probably purposefully, Lodge goes out of his way to avoid medieval beauty standards- in fact with completely opposite qualities. While Blancheflor's pale skin, rosy cheeks, and "golden" hair are completely fulfilling of the medieval beauty aesthetics, (as well as presumably a small and diminutive figure in comparison to a man), Angelica is tall and voluptuous with dark features. Angelica is powerful and a challenge to any man, most notably in her extensive literary knowledge. She is also extremely mysterious: by the end of the first chapter, it is revealed that Angelica did not even belong at the conference and had been tricking several men all at once. I still find her untrustworthy: manipulating a sweetheart such as Persse just seems too wrong.

Perceval part three

3. Perceval has failed to act charitably several times throughout the story. One of the most notable of the acts- due to the fact that it is clearly his familial duty to do so- is his inability to return to his village and assure the safety of his unconscious mother. Perceval also fails to aid others in need many other times: he runs away from the lady of King Arthur's court who was slapped instead of avenging her immediately; he is unable to ask a question in order to save the Fisher King and thus his kingdom, as well as the Waste Forest; and he apparently cannot even restrain himself from harming innocent others, such as the maiden in the tent. Perceval's interests in charity lie only in the tasks that further his quests as a knight. Perceval is essentially the opposite of the man that he is told he must worship and embody: Jesus Christ. Christ made the ultimate act of charity by sacrificing his own life for the sins of all mankind; meanwhile, Perceval is committing those sins. Perceval so constantly misses the mark on what it means to be a good knight because he is more enraptured with the image of knighthood rather than the true meaning of it. He is the equivalent of a policeman who becomes part of the force not because he wants to help others, but because he is absorbed with becoming a powerful source of authority. Perceval needs to discard his glorified perspective of the selfish, violent masculine world and join the charitable maternal world that Jesus so embodied. In doing so, he parallels Jesus in being "resurrected" and starting a new life, closer to God. It can even be said that Perceval was "crucified" and outcast by others for doing what in their eyes was wrong- for not helping the Fisher King. As Jesus was elevated from the violent earthly realm to the transcendent divine realm, so is Perceval. He even experiences a cycle parallel to that of Jesus': He faces the end of his old life on Good Friday, as he "acknowledged that God was crucified and died" (461); that night he faces the scarcity of resources in torture and death with his dinner; he comes to face God; and then on Sunday receives communion, realizing the meaning of true sacrifice. As Chretien notes:

5. I finished the text with mixed feelings: I was both irritated and intrigued by the abrupt ending. I was most bothered by the fact that Perceval's story- and thus the Grail quest- was unresolved. Conversely, I think the ending is a valuable opportunity to consider and reflect on Chretien's creation. The fact that it ends with Gawain- who clearly is not the main character- is upsetting to Chretien's earlier promise to return to Perceval's story. I believe that, if given the chance, Chretien would have continued the story for much, much longer with many more enigmatic passages and symbols. I believe Perceval would have discovered the true meaning of the Grail, thus saving the Fisher King, his kingdom, and the Waste Forest, and would have become absorbed in the maternal world of charity, holiness, and valiance (and therefore becoming a true knight). On the other hand, Chretien is not one to end a story simply and straightforwardly- and not without a hint of irony- so I would not be surprised if Perceval fought an epic battle for the Grail, saved the Fisher King, and went back to Blancheflor without ever realizing his own errors. This story is probably the best to be left unfinished, because just as Perceval is left without an explanation of the Grail, so is the audience. Chretien's skill shows itself once again in his stunning ability to end a story only partway through but for the text itself to still (to this day) be renowned, studied, and investigated. Because of this, I believe this to be Chretien's greatest work.
On another note, I would not be surprised if Chretien killed of Perceval at the end. I think it would further and complete his metaphorical transition as Christ, and would prove to be a largely unforeseen ending with his most ostentatious ending. If I were to write the ending in what I would believe to be Chretien's intentions, I would lead Perceval to be killed in an important battle after becoming part of the matriarchal world, thus sacrificing himself for all others (including the Fisher King, King Arthur's Court, and the Waste Forest). Perceval's death would lead to a renewed world, better for its inhabitants (since he died for their sake). He would then be making the greatest sacrifice possible within the text, as a suddenly appearing and benevolent man losing his life too early; all would mourn the loss.

Perceval part two

1. Blancheflor's name -meaning "White Flower"- is clearly Chretien's allusion to her role as an innocent, virginal woman. She is delicate and pure: her hair is "so lustrous and blonde that anyone who saw it might mistake it, if that were possible, for strands of purest gold. Her forehead was high, white, and as smooth as if it had been moulded by hand or as if it had been carved from stone, ivory, or wood" (404). It is also worth noting that pale white skin was the most admirable complexion for a woman in medieval times; thus she is even more pure and deserving of her name's meaning. She is polite, elegant, and devoid of immoral action. Even when she makes moves on Perceval, she maintains her dignity and chastity by simply kissing or embracing him; it is noted that they simply lay next to eachother without acting further (and thus maintaining Perceval's promise to his mother). She is one of the few characters who do not give in to the temptation of sin; thus, she can be read as an example of a true role model in the text, as well as Perceval's opposite. He is simple-minded, quick to act, and juvenile; she is intellectual, poised, and mature. They would not seem to be an appropriate match, but Chretien still puts them together- perhaps to note the ironic outcomes of many of his actions (such as his rudeness garnering his knighthood and armor). Furthermore, her virginal "white" representation is invaded or perhaps "stained" by Perceval's "red" representation. His brash and violent actions earn him the color red; and as he intrudes into her life, his bright, graphic personality mixes with her pure, chaste characteristics.
Another quality in Blancheflor that I find intriguing is her sense of manipulation. Despite the fact that she appears to perfect and untouched on the surface, she still knows how to get what she wants through others. This is first seen when she approaches and embraces Perceval on his first night's stay, crying about the situation of her town. She explains her problems while weeping profusely (on him) but ends by saying, "Clamadeu, who hopes to have me, will not possess my body until it's devoid of life and soul for I keep in one of my jewellery boxes a knife of flawless steel that I intend to plunge into my body. This is all I had to tell you. Now I'll go back and let you rest" (406). Blancheflor -becoming the damsel in distress Perceval was taught to defend- is clearly baiting Perceval to help her in this explanation; and so her ability to control him through her relationship with him develops. The text notes that she purposefully says no instead of yes to him in attempts to make him more passionate in defending her (407). This process is repeated again througout the text; and it becomes clear to the reader that Blancheflor is not as pure as one would suppose.

3. The blood on the snow is yet another representation of Perceval's "red" personality intermingling with Blancheflor's "white" personality. Perceval sees the three drops of blood and it causes him to recall his lady: "When Perceval saw the disturbed snow where the goose had lain, with the blood still visible, he leaned upon his lance to gaze at this site for the blood mingled with the snow resembled the blush of his lady's face" (432). Though it is, at the surface, another example of their "colors" mixing, there seems to be an even more violent undertone. The manner in which the blood dropped to the ground- a falcon attacking at a goose's neck, thus drawing the blood- can be seen as symbolic of Perceval's violent actions leading to his meeting (and relationship) with Blancheflor. Even when they have already established their mutual affection, his violent actions (such as the defense her town) bring them closer together, thus further intermingling the red and white. There seems to be a hint from Chretien here that the violence that brought them together could tear them apart- and will possibly injure Blancheflor herself (please don't take her away, she's one of my favorites!) Also, the red blood on the white object can be connected back to the "bleeding lance"- another symbol of violence invading purity. Chretien is showing the reader once again that the beautiful and the pristine can- and will- by interfered with and possible desecrated by the corrupt and indecent (and furthermore the dangerous). The eternal bleeding of the lance could indicate that there is an infinite suffering ahead- specifically for the characters of the red and the white.

Perceval, part one

2. In the first scene in which Perceval encounters the knights in the Waste Forest, it becomes clear to the reader how naive and juvenile Perceval is. Firstly, Perceval is completely undereducated as to any life outside of his home forest in Wales (a place Chretien does not represent very positively). Despite having a seemingly very religious mother and understanding the concept of God himself, his grasp on religious details such as what angels are as opposed to knights is embarrassingly weak. (Since we see Perceval ignore and deny his mother's statements at other points in the text, I find it very likely that his mother has explained the concepts of Christianity to him before, and he has simply not listened- until it all became vital to his knighthood.) Perceval is easily distracted and childish, unable to pay attention or heed commands from even the knights he admires: "...And the boy, who lacked instruction, said to him: "'Were you born like this?'" (384). (He also seems to lack the understanding that people are not born with metal hauberks or shields melded to their person.) Meanwhile, the knights are stoic, patient, and quite friendly towards the unhelpful young man with the short attention span. The leader of the knights is especially tolerant of Perceval questions, even noting after scolding him that "'So I'll tell you, come what may, because I've grown to like you'" (384). The text portrays the knights in a very positive light- they appear noble, valiant, and even very polite. On the other hand, the text is sure to point out the dangerous nature of their lives; but Perceval gives knighthood the typical male teenager "awesome" and "thumbs-up" and is enticed by the idea of danger and power (while disregarding all of the rules of basic knighthood- and thus basic humanity- given to him by his mother). Chretien uses this to emphasize how one person's glorified view of knighthood (such as his own readers) can be quite different from the harsh (or even nonexistent) reality.

(I think it is noteworthy that we encounter some medieval "Welsh Racism"- a phenomenon that exists to this day addressing the widespread European-based -- and occasionally United States-based-- mocking of the Welsh culture. Welsh comedian Rob Brydon notes this in his material, which I recommend. Chretien clearly criticizes the underdeveloped Welsh community of the forest several times, including jabs at their manners, intelligence, and clothing).
(Search "QI Welsh Racism on Youtube).

3. In his meeting with his mother, Perceval does essentially everything he can to disregard and disrespect his mother and her words. While his mother is in anguish over his prolonged disappearance, Perceval tells his agreeable mother to "Hush!" (386). She is clearly distraught by his learning of the existence of knighthood and will do everything she can to prevent him from seeking this life- including a harrowing tale of how his whole family save for him and his mother were killed by the profession- but Perceval barely listens, if at all. "The boy paid scarcely any attention to what his mother said. 'Give me something to eat,' he said. 'I don't understand your words, but I would gladly go to the king who makes knights; and I will go, no matter what'" (387). I think that it's fair to say that at this point in the text, Perceval is a complete idiot. He ignores her because he obviously finds no weight in her words, and only selectively listens to the parts convenient to him- such as his twisting of her recommendation to accept a ring as a gift from a woman into a justification for him to attack and steal from one. If Perceval had listened to his mother fully before leaving and had dared to take her suggestions into account, he would have started his journey much more cautiously (and would not have harmed the people he did, including the maiden who was forced to follow her lord naked (391)).

4. In order to become a knight- after assaulting and stealing from a young woman- Perceval bursts into King Arthur's court, bothers King Arthur by repeatedly demanding knighthood, ignores the King's command to dismount, demands the pretty armor of another knight, and causes a woman to be slapped and a jester to be pushed into a fireplace. Shortly after, he kills the knight whose armor he wants in order to obtain that armor. All the while, he rudely commands people and essentially blames his innocent mother for his outrageous actions. Perceval has not become a knight by being noble, valiant, or proving himself helpful or agile; he instead told others what to do until they gave in to his force. This discrepancy between the real behaviors of a knight from the expected behaviors is further commentary from Chretien as to how people tend to inaccurately perceive their heroes; Perceval gets away with ridiculous behavior but still becomes a knight- an obvious error in the typically-praised system. He is even obnoxious to the King whom he would usually have to impress in order to be granted knighthood from: "'Make me a knight, sir king,' he said, 'for I wish to be on my way'" (393). He even sees himself as equivalent to the far nobler knights that inspired him earlier in the text: "'The knights I met in the heath never dismounted, yet you want me to dismount! By my head, I'll not dismount, so get on with it and I'll be on my way'" (393). Sadly, no one ever denies Perceval what he wants- and if they do, they are injured or killed. (Perceval is off to a wonderful start.)

"That Obscure Object of Desire"

1. I think the film uses such a title to represent Conchita as an obscure object. To be obscure is to be ambiguous and not clear or plain; to be concealed or reduced. Matthieu believes that sexuality and love should be expressed together, as he wishes to; but Conchita constantly holds back, never allowing a sexual union, instead reveling in their shared love. Matthieu is shown to clearly love Conchita, but because she will not give herself to him fully, the relationship becomes unbalanced. While Conchita is satisfied with just spending time together, Matthieu can only focus on their lack of sexual connection. For this reason, Conchita becomes a sexual being in his eyes; she becomes the woman he can never fully possess; thus an object he can never fully possess. The only part of her he cannot have is her sexuality; therefore, it is the part he wants most. Conchita complains that he objectifies her by constantly insisting on intercourse (such as her repeated statements that she's "not that kind of girl"), and Matthieu denies this lustful focus; but in a way it is true, because he has become more obsessed with her sexuality than with her true being.
4. I believe the animal imagery is all used to convey how Matthieu is somehow an inferior, less intelligent (and overwhelmed) being that is caught in Conchita's trap. When the animal imagery appears, he thinks he is in control (when the mouse appears, he is planning to "purchase" Conchita; when the fly appears, he has temporarily lost Conchita but plans to get her back through his influential friend, the judge). Truly, though, Conchita proves herself to always be in control: she leaves when he attempts to pay for her, and she takes him back when he sees her in the resraurant. The imagery really represents Matthieu falling under her spell and into her traps. He is crushed and left by her after the mouse is caught in the trap; and he is "dead in the water" like the fly when in the restaurant, completely obsessed with getting her back and insisting that he cannot live without her. Matthieu is powerless to Conchita, despite the fact that he thinks he is the dominant person (displayed by how she is the one who reguarly ends the relationships).

Celestina, Acts III-VI

I found these acts to be so different from the others based on the fact that there is more internalized dialogue from Celestina. In the previous two acts, though she was introduced as the bold protagonist, there were almost no inner monologues, if any at all (though nearly every other character had moments of thought to themselves). Right in the beginning of Act Four, we witness Celestina’s first instance of speaking to herself and analyzing her situation. It seems noteworthy that this first takes place so far into the play; this may be the author’s attempt to build up Celestina’s outward reputation in the reader’s mind before revealing her true flaws. As Celestina has been described and celebrated as an almost superhuman power up until now in the play, her thoughts display to the viewer her real human conflicts. Like all of the other characters (and all humans in general), she is nervous of her plans and experiences doubts and worries. Though Celestina seemed infallible and powerful before this exhibit of self-questioning, this instance only gives her character an added depth and complexity. Now we understand that there is a great difference between her confident, almost arrogant exterior and her flawed, frightened interior. Though she readily guarantees to deliver all that her clients wish, she laments after making her first promises what happens if she cannot keep them with Calisto: “What will Calisto say? What will he do? What will he think, say that I’ve lied to him and revealed his plan in order to get money from the other side?” (45). She even must remind herself to be courageous (46). In her musings, she first carefully reviews what has happened (noting the nature and order of events), and then considers the possible consequences and outcomes of her actions. This proves how she is always thinking and planning, constantly assessing her environment and finding new ways to dominate it. Though she is not very pious, she is admirable in her composition of a polished façade, composed of her systematic arrangements and unapologetic statements of her own power.

Celestina, Acts I, II

I'm afraid I'm not so familiar with the story of Adam and Eve, so please bear with me :)

The fact that the opening scene takes place in a garden is clearly representative of the Garden of Eden. Calisto, in a role representing Adam, is rejected by Melibea, who represents Eve. The fact that Melibea is portrayed to be somewhat wicked or evil in denying Calisto is very true to the story of Adam and Eve, in which women are demonized. Calisto wants to pursue his one-sided infatuation regardless of Melibea’s feelings, expecting her to love him back just as much. In this sense, Calisto employs Adam’s characteristic of separation from knowledge: he denies Melibea’s lack of interest in him, further courting her and expecting reciprocation; this self-sheltering and distancing from the truth is symbolic of Adam’s disinterest in attaining the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Melibea, with Eve’s characteristic curiosity, is convinced by the serpent (the devil) to try the fruit, thus supplying her with knowledge of both good and evil (and therefore, of the reality of the world). Melibea thinks (which is quite unlike Calisto) and comes to the conclusion that she has no ambition for Calisto, and that he will have to accept this. In tandem with the Bible, just as Eve is attacked for wanting to break free of ignorance, Melibea is blamed for not breaking free of the traditional courtship of a man she doesn’t care for. As Eve is blamed for having a curiosity outside of her own being (unlike Adam), Melibea is interested in her life options outside of Calisto’s offers. Melibea represents truth in her actions: there is a world apart from the courting of one childish, desperate man. In eating the fruit, the reality of their lack of equal feelings is revealed- though Calisto further denies this, viewing Melibea’s judgment as clouded by a separate force (the serpent, or the devil for Eve). Therefore, Calisto sees Melibea’s disinterest as a symptom: as a work of the devil that should be cured or overtaken immediately.

The Decameron, part 6

Day Nine, Story Two
1. Once again we encounter a story that displays a less than flattering view of the church. By now, the readers have become used to this sort of behavior from people of religious positions. In fact, there has not been one positive review of Christianity. Just as the reader does not think twice about her actions, these sinning characters do not, and this story’s nun does not: instead of feeling discomfort from the fact that she has unholy desires, she is instead discontented that she and the man “bore this fruitless love for some time” (660). This character, like the majority of the others we have read about, considers her own pleasure more important than her religion or of the needs of others. And once again, the Abbess does not reprimand the sinning nun and again proves herself to be just as fallible: she is interrupted to punish the nun while “in the company of a priest whom she often had brought to her bedroom” (661). Here, Boccaccio manages to throw another member of the clergy into an already blasphemous situation. Even worse, neither the nun nor the Abbess resolve to change their ways, and instead decide that it is “impossible for people to defend themselves from the desires of the flesh” (662). These nuns (and the priest) are not very good examples of clergy members, and it is clear that Boccaccio wrote it to seem that way.
Day Ten, Story Ten
2. To be honest, I was very disappointed that this was the final story. Boccaccio has given us plenty of other better and more creative stories, with more entertaining endings and more complex characters. Gualtieri definitely does not deserve his wife’s love: she puts up with his ridiculous and cruel antics and never stands up for herself (and for whatever reason, the characters consider this a virtue). Griselda is tested supposedly because she is not to let her newfound power and riches go to her head; but it is clearly her husband who requires this testing. Also, if Gualtieri was to test a wife for thinking too highly of herself and believing she deserves the luxurious lifestyle; he should be testing a woman of noble lineage who would be more likely to not appreciate the marriage. Griselda’s clothing represents her honored position as Gualtieri’s wife (and is not Boccaccio’s strongest use of symbols). If anyone deserves an obedient love, it is Griselda- who, as Dioneo points out, would deserve “another man to warm her wool in order to get herself a nice-looking dress out of the affair”! (798). This story is different in the way that there is no person who sins outright; instead there is a debate as to how justified Gualtieri’s actions were. Though this was an interesting conflict in the tamer Erec and Enide, it’s not nearly as compelling when compared to the far more outrageous stories of The Decameron.

The Decameron, part 5

Day Eight, Story Seven
1. Is Rinieri’s revenge justified and equal to the torture Elena subjected him to?
I do not believe that Rinieri’s revenge is justified. Though it is understandable to want to subject someone to the same discomfort that you have experienced, Rinieri takes his “punishment” too far. As Boccaccio notes at the beginning of the next story, “Grievous and painful as Elena’s misfortunes were for the ladies to hear, they listened to them with restrained pity, since they felt she had in part deserved them, although at the same time they did consider the scholar to have been somewhat rigid, and fiercely relentless, not to mention cruel” (614). What Rinieri forgets is that he easily- perhaps too easily- fell for Elena’s trap in the beginning, abandoning all of his scholarly logic for a taste of love. In a way, his torture is partly his fault, because it takes Rinieri far too long to discover that he has been duped. He becomes completely shamed and embarrassed, and in his mind, the only way to gain back his honor is by shaming Elena in return. He is so overcome by his uncontrollable wrath that he must destroy Elena in order to regain confidence in himself (a juvenile form of getting back at someone). Though their respective gullibility and punishments are very similar, Rinieri does not take the high road and instead lowers himself to her level, thus making him not better than her. It seems that Rinieri has never considered that “the greatest revenge is living well”.
Day Eight, Story Eight
2. Through most of these stories there is a common theme of the trickster being tricked. At the end of this story, unlike the others, the characters come to a content resolution. Is this a fair ending?
I think this is somewhat of a ridiculous ending. There is not much fairness in it due to the fact that they are all cheaters, and have forgotten the fundamentals of marriage. The reason one person marries another is to be committed to him or her and only that person, and these characters have no concept of this. I think the reason that this is the only trickster story with a peaceful ending is because it is unrealistic for people who have manipulated each other and then get over it so easily. There is also a lot of contradiction in their actions. For example, Zeppa criticizes and bemoans Spinelloccio for betraying their friendship, but by the next day he is taking Spinelloccio’s same path with his friend’s wife, which she points out to him: “Is this what you had in mind when you invited me over? Now what about the love you bear for Spinecolloccio and your loyal friendship for him?” (617). These characters degrade and demoralize themselves and each other, but let it all go in the end- an obviously very unlikely outcome.

The Decameron, part four

Day Five, Story Ten
1. This story very clearly alludes to the homosexuality/bisexuality of the characters involved. How does the author address this issue? How is this story similar or different from the other tales of lust that we have read?
In the creation of this tale, Boccaccio proves that there is no sin to be spared from his writing. Pietro, though is very obviously implied to be gay: “[His wife] found herself with a husband who was more interested in other men than in her” (433). In his usual manner, Boccaccio does not directly name the sin committed by the characters involved (never saying outright that Pietro is gay), and in doing so levels homosexual actions with the other lustful activities. This story follows the same path as the others depicting lustful or adulterous attractions: though they are at first pegged as “wicked”, the characters rejoice in their “wrongful” practices in the end, without much objection from the storyteller (and not true moral statement from Boccaccio revealed). This sort of addressing of homosexuality is a telling glimpse of how it was (if only in secret) practiced at this time, despite its great punishments if discovered. Bisexuality is even depicted (which is still a somewhat taboo topic today). This should be not surprising, though; Boccaccio has had no trouble in exhibiting practically every other sin known to man (especially the ones that people typically avoid discussing, such as incest or bestiality). Boccaccio once again proves himself as the author willing to speak of the unspeakable action, without shame or embarrassment; and instead as almost embracing of each sin that constructs humanity.

Day Six, Story Ten
1. Here we see Brother Cipolla take advantage of other peoples’ faith. What does this say about his view of religion, and about the state of religion at the time?
Brother Cipolla is obviously motivated by his greed rather than his faith in God in all of his actions; it even seems that he became a member of the congregation of Saint Anthony just for the money he could acquire. Brother Cipolla understands the leniency with which worshippers give away their money “to the cause” and takes advantage of it: “Because [Certaldo] was such good grazing ground, one of the brothers of Saint Anthony used to go there once a year to collect the alms that people were stupid enough to give him” (470). Brother Cipolla simply travels from place to place, finding ways to charge churchgoers, such as encouraging the townspeople of Certaldo to give some of their grain and crops to the “poor brothers” of Saint Anthony; in return, Saint Anthony will keep their livestock from danger (471) - an obvious ploy for money. Brother Cipolla even goes so far as to note that giving more grain and crops are giving because of their greater capacity and piety (another maneuver to ensure the townspeople will give away more.) Brother Cipolla’s greatest trickery, though, is in representing a parrot’s feather as a feather of the wing of the Angel Gabriel. Though it is not the fault of the townspeople to have never seen a parrot before, it is sadly too easy for them to believe the feather came from an angel and not simply an animal they haven’t encountered before. What is even worse is that this was a common practice of medieval times; it was often that a commonplace object was transformed into a holy object, and then charged for to see (since many Christians were ready to give away their money to view a relic, and many members of the clergy took advantage of it). Brother Cipolla flaunts this widespread gullibility in their faces when recalling all of the holy relics he has encountered, including recollections of the sweat, bones, and shoes of sacred people (476-8); they unfortunately do not notice and are quick to believe that he accidentally took the charcoal of Saint Lorenzo. This story, combined with his other less-than-flattering depictions religion, display Boccaccio’s true understanding of the corruption and deceit that constructed Christianity at the time (and this understanding is mirrored in Brother Cipolla’s actions.)

The Decameron, part 3

I found this story especially interesting because it possesses the theme of one-sided love. Though Beltramo could not want her less, Giletta continues to pursue him. She first falls in love with him when she was a child, feeling “a boundless love, one which was far more passionate than was suitable for her tender age” (266). This love appears to be an obsession, bordering on unhealthy. One unusual quality is her undying love for him through the years, starting when she is young, which is often when a person feels overwhelming and uncontrollable love for another without much power over it. Giletta maintains this love for him as she grows up, loving him “most passionately” (268), unable to let go of his image after he leaves for Paris, and turns down the offers of many other men. Her affection for him seems strange due to the fact that he does not seem to know her very well at all: the author remarks that he knew her and had seen her, but was obviously unaware of her infatuation. Most strangely, she still wants to pursue him after the death of her father, and seems more interested in her newfound opportunities to travel to him, rather than with grieving. She is even “overjoyed” (267) to discover that the King of France is sick and needs a physician, because it means she will have the chance to see Beltramo again-and she even plans to marry Beltramo while there. Here we see her using someone else’s sickness to her own advantage, all in the name of love. Quite ironically, Beltramo has no interest whatsoever in Giletta, since her lineage is not noble enough; he even leaves her after the wedding, and sends harsh words back to her, implying that they will never be lovers. Unfortunately for Beltramo, there is no way to escape someone who is determined to seek their lover; and Giletta manipulates her way into his life until she gets what she wants. Giletta peculiarly bemoans “all that she had done out of love for the Count, and pointed out what had come of it” (270), not seeming to grasp the concept that he does not have feelings for her like she expects him to. To fulfill her long-held fantasy, she moves to Florence to be close to him, pretends to be another woman whom Beltramo cares for, and pays off the family of the woman in order to assist her in this ruse (not considering that the woman would actually want and merit a relationship with Beltramo; this woman’s feelings do not matter, as is evident in Giletta’s choice not to include her in on the details of the plan). Giletta seems in denial of the fact that Beltramo doesn’t like her, so she plays the other woman’s role, leading her to bear his children and receive his ring (the two qualities he said she would never possess as his wife). At the end, she reveals her true self, and Beltramo eventually accepts her. It is interesting that she changes herself to someone else so that he will love her; she is so desperate for his affection that she will even accept his loving someone else instead of her, as long as it is directed towards her. This love seems wrong in too many ways.

The Decameron, part 2

My favorite story from our reading was that of Alatiel (Day Two, Seventh Story). I enjoyed this story for a few reasons: the first is the way the narrator, Panfilo, takes an unusual perspective on beauty. Panfilo renounces the ways women try to make themselves more attractive, and even names this as a sin: “…and you, gracious ladies, sin in a most particular way: that is, in desiring to be beautiful—inasmuch as, finding the attractions bestowed upon you by Nature to be insufficient, you go to astonishing lengths to improve upon them” (128). Panfilo demands a woman in her most natural state, viewing it as her best form. His (somewhat unconventional) argument is that women, in their great vanity and need to improve themselves, do not realize how some other are cursed with great beauty; and such is the story of Alatiel. Alatiel is so striking that nearly every man who encounters her does all he can to possess her. She is stolen and transported from place to place several times without any say in the matter; she is treated more as a pet than a person most of the time (a treatment further enhanced by the fact that she does not speak the languages of any of the countries or cultures she is brought to and is therefore mute). Eight different men consummate their lust for her (though the majority do not marry her.) On the other hand, though Alatiel’s beauty tends to make her life difficult, it still provides her with a deep-rooted sexual power over men. Though Alatiel is never seriously harmed, many men are killed in argument over her (and even a war is begun due to one of her kidnappings); meanwhile, Alatiel is noted by Giovanni to eventually become content with Fortune and her newfound life after every relocation. And though the men may believe that they are the only ones whose satisfaction is important, and therefore only consider their own sexual activities, nobody realizes that Alatiel is also satisfied with her sexual relationships and is therefore enabled by the men who perpetually kidnap her. She constantly exercises her resources of beauty to her own advantage, making Alatiel less often a victim and more often the prosperous receptor of what she wants from the men. This in a way gives her character stereotypical male qualities (which are echoed by the male characters of the text): she considers sexual gratification to be more important than anything else, and since she is receiving it, she is pleased, and is living in complete satisfaction.

The Decameron, part 1

1. “He was as fond of women as dogs are of a beating with a stick; he was, in fact, more fond of men, more so than any other degenerate” (27). I took this passage in the First Day’s first story to be alluding to Ser Cepparello’s homosexuality; I find it especially interesting that this is limited to just one sentence, meaning the reader has to dig into the text to find and analyze it. Homosexuality in the Middle Ages was not doubt a taboo (as it still is in many cultures today) and was grouped with such behavior as bestiality (and no doubt garnered punishment). It is clear that the storyteller is grouping homosexuality in with the other vile qualities of this character, and this stands as a passing glance of the view of such behavior in those times.
2. “No one will ever know, and a sin that’s hidden is half forgiven” (48). In this quote, the Abbot of them First Day’s fourth story justifies his behavior in having sex with the young woman the monk was just with. This quote is peculiarly irrational; it seems illogical for God to forgive someone for concealing their sins (rather, I would assume that God would not appreciate a human trying to lie as well as to fornicate simultaneously). The only justification for this I can conceive is that the person is hiding because he or she recognizes his or her own wrongdoing against God (and God appreciates their knowledge that they are sinning), and they will presumably repent afterwards. I am not aware of this as an actual tenet of Christianity, but based on the lack of findings in my research of the principle, I can only conclude that it is a convenient and creative form of rhyming justification.
3. “Worthy ladies, if we examine closely the ways of Fortune, we will see that the more said about her ways, the more there remains to be said, and no one should be surprised at this fact, if he or she bears in mind that all those affairs which we foolishly call our own are in her hands, and as a result it is she who, according to her own secret judgment, endlessly moves and rearranges thing from one place to another and then back again without any discernable plan whatsoever” (86). Pampinea begins her story this way in the Second Day’s third story; and she reveals some of the principles of life of the Middle Ages- that all actions are part of a plan from the heavens/God. This reasoning denies that any person has control over their own matters, and suggests that our actions really have no effect on the outcomes of our lives. This is especially noteworthy when applied to the particular story presented- that of The Tebaldo brothers and their nephew Alessandro. Despite the fact that it is clearly the brothers’ fault that they have ruined their families’ and their own lives, the storyteller still insists that it is part of a greater design (in which these actions are designated to happen). The chance meeting and marriage of Alessandro and the Abbot is viewed not as a random encounter but instead as the work of Fortune. This perspective, in complete opposition to realism, claims that their meeting was more than just pure coincidence; and to me, this is once again a creative way to justify what one denies or doesn’t understand.

Response for "Tristan and Isolde" Film

This film adaptation is devoid of the magical love potion that brings Tristan and Isolde together in the original Beroul story, changing the interpretation significantly. Both versions prompt the reader to ask a pivotal question (though based on different events): Who is really to blame for the damage Tristan's and Isolde's love causes? In Beroul's version, one could argue that the love potion's supernatural force overwhelmed the characters to a point where they could not resist each other. Therefore, readers can negate the responsibility of the lovers for carrying on their affair behind King Mark's back (and subsequently damaging his kingdom). In the movie, there is no enchantment over them; they are thus completely to blame for their adultery. The film's extraction of this plot element, in my opinion, makes the story much less engaging and challenges the audience less.
Ultimately, I found the movie’s rendition of their love for one another far inferior to that of the text. Beroul expertly crafts an alluring tale that leaves the reader questioning his or her own morals in relation to love. The text’s characters are dynamic, moving from innocent and noble to adulterous and manipulating (and even murderous). Tristan and Isolde continue their trickery after the love potion wears off, leaving the reader to ponder how in control of their lust the lovers are. Conversely, the movie provides a flat, one-dimensional, (and cliché) perspective, limiting the characters to being (likely inexcusable) "cheaters", instead of Beroul’s complex and shifting characters.

The Knight With the Lion/Yvain, pages 353-380

1. Yvain needs to gain a new identity because his old name was filled with shame and carried a bad reputation. After betraying his wife and going mad, he realized that he couldn’t continue “Yvain”’s lifestyle- one of stupidity and rash, juvenile behavior. The name itself is tainted in his and many others’ eyes (proved by Laudine’s inability to recognize him by his new name- “Everyone there offered to serve their lord, as was proper, without knowing he was; even the lady, who possessed his heart but did not know it” (352). The lion represents Yvain’s new triumphs and achievements as an adult person; with the lion, he has learned to be a responsible and benevolent knight who thinks before acting. In taking care of the lion and having a constant companion, Yvain has matured, and is now simply an honored knight. He has been reborn from being “Yvain” and is the new man his wife needs.
3. Yvain and Laudine meet at the end and reconcile due to trickery on the part of Lunete. This ending is especially ironic, since Laudine has apparently not learned her lesson in trusting Lunete, and they are tricked again. This may mean that they cannot meet without Laudine being manipulated; otherwise they may never be together. Fortunately, this time Laudine knows that she is getting a knight known for being noble and courageous, and realizes that he is now worthy of being with her. He implores her, “I have paid dearly for my foolishness, and I am glad to have paid…I’ll never do you wrong again” (380); and though Laudine is quick to point out that she takes him back only to avoid breaking her oath, one would suspect she is much more satisfied with Yvain the second time around.

The Knight With The Lion/ Yvain, pages 324-353

In his speech, Gawain encourages Yvain to consider himself an entity apart from his wife and to spend some time away from her at the tourneys with King Arthur. Gawain begins by asking what Yvain truly wants in his marriage: “’Would you be one of those men…who are worth less because of their wives?’” (326). Gawain is not demeaning Laudine; he is instead claiming that Yvain must be a better and more respectable man for his wife, and that Yvain will find no purpose in abandoning his knighthood for her. He warns against a loss of reputation, noting that Laudine will “quickly withdraw her love- and she’s not wrong to do so-if she finds herself hating a man who has lost face in any way after he has become lord of the realm” (326). Gawain is counseling Yvain to learn to be both an honored knight and a loyal husband (a strikingly familiar conclusion that Erec journeyed to find for himself). The advice emphasizes how a couple must be honorable for each other, therefore keeping them equal (and a wise recommendation, since we saw how it impaired Erec’s relationship). The struggle for balance between man and woman in marriage is one Chrétien continues to utilize; and he is smart to do so, because these matrimonial issues are prevalent throughout practically all times and cultures (keeping the story still practical for us today).

The Knight With The Lion/ Yvain, pages 295-324

I found the first third of this story to be very interesting, most notably in the way it treats love. Throughout his stories, Chrétien treats love as if it is an instantly affecting occurrence, like a lightning strike immediately impairing the person’s heart; it is even an intent force of its own (Love). This can be seen with Erec and Enide, who fall in love (rather conveniently) just as Erec claims her as his future wife. Chrétien often employs the “love at first sight” phenomenon, making the characters instantaneously affectionate of one another; but it’s worth pointing out that these loving couples have never even conversed (or, like Yvain and Laudine, they have never even met). This means that their sudden love for each other was not based on any personality chemistry or shared characteristics. Instead, both find the other extremely physically attractive, and “Love” works her magic for the two. Chrétien somewhat idealizes the event of falling in love; a naïve reader may be led to believe that two people who recognize the other as handsome or beautiful are destined to be together eternally.
Conversely, though, Chrétien states that this instant love can be somewhat of a punishment or burden, which the person does not choose: “The lady…has fully avenged the death of her husband; she has taken greater vengeance than she could ever have thought possible,” (311). Chrétien gives and takes from his characters: After he gives the couple true bliss in finding one another, they are forced to endure great hardships (often because of their love). Yvain even points out that he "must love whomever Love chooses" (312). As the author points out, “anyone who loves is a prisoner” (319).

Erec and Enide, pages 90 to 122

In the last passage, Enide passes Erec’s test, resolving all conflicts in their love. Though this appears to means that Erec has finally come to trust the loyalty of Enide, it seems to me that it is actually Erec coming to trust himself. Erec now understands that he can be a respected knight and a loving husband simultaneously (his confusion over which caused him to begin his journey in the first place). Unfortunately, both he and Enide suffered a great deal in order to reach this place: “They had endured so much trouble, he for her and she for him, that now they had done their penance” (101). I believe Erec may have let this happen because (perhaps subconsciously) he wanted Enide to suffer for him the way he had earlier felt suffering for her: he could have blamed all of his distress on Enide, since he had sacrificed his knightly honor to dote on her, and had felt great pain due to her revealing speech. Furthermore, he may still blame his loss of peer respect on her, since he doesn’t even grant her an apology for his actions and instead (somewhat absurdly, and despite his cruelty towards her) forgives her misdoings: “’…and if your words offended me, I fully pardon and forgive you for both the deed and the word’” (97). Maybe now, in Erec’s eyes, Enide has atoned for what she has said, and they can be equals in their sacrifice for love.

Erec and Enide, pages 60 to 90

In this section of the text, it becomes even clearer how Enide is really seen and treated by the people around her- the most important of these being Erec. A main point in our discovery of Enide is her name, which we do not learn until her marriage to Erec. This event reinforces the idea that Enide is property and that no one cares for her true identity until she becomes important enough (which is when she marries Erec). Even after the wedding, she is still Erec’s possession- evidenced by his nearly abusive behavior towards her. Though their relationships begins in bliss, their honeymoon stage ends quickly when Enide reveals that Erec’s love for her – and his subsiding interest in knighthood- has led him to be mocked by the kingdom. Afterwards, Erec takes out his anger on Enide, as if his cruel (and stereotypically dominant and masculine) treatment of her will make up for his peers’ view of him as oversensitive to his wife. Erec no longer allows her to speak without being spoken to first; he “threatened her” (83) after her third attempt to save his life from opposing knights. Despite Erec’s words, Chrétien still claims that Erec “had no wish to harm her” (83) and that he loved Enide, but sadly, these words are reminiscent of any abuser trying to convince their victimized partner to stay. Erec’s hurtful but then forgiving pattern of behavior, as well as Enide’s personal view that she owes herself to him (another example of her as property), may convince her to stay; unfortunately, it seems as though she barely has a choice.

Erec and Enide, pages 37-60

In starting the text, I am discovering a huge difference between this story and that of Tristan and Yseut. One vast dissimilarity is the style of the narration: Béroul presents Tristan’s life and romance as being tragic before the story even commences, while Chrétien opens Erec’s tale with almost no introduction whatsoever. Readers of “The Romance of Tristan” are likely accustomed to Béroul’s constant, almost signature foreshadowing of sorrowful events to come; so much so that the story takes on a negative tone. Chrétien’s straightforward, factual storytelling feels almost positive in nature and makes it seem as though even he does not know what will happen until the reader does. Despite this, I still predict harrowing events to come. The reason for this is the perfectly arranged sequence of events, since it appears as though everything goes nearly flawlessly for Erec and Enide. Erec’s swift chain of triumphs is almost suspiciously impeccable: he avenges Queen Guinevere’s maiden, defeats and shames an opposing knight, and finds and becomes engaged to a perfect maiden-all in three days. So far, the text completely lacks serious conflict, so it is almost as though the author and the reader are both waiting and preparing for something to tear the lovers apart and to destroy their perfect lifestyle. I do not believe that the couple itself will separate willingly from each other, but I believe it’s quite possible that the text is providing an immaculate setup for an attack against them.

The Romance of Tristan, parts 14-19

3. Tristan’s madness, though he first suggests it to himself as a disguise and a ploy to access Yseut, appears to truly be the manifestation of his accumulated grief. Tristan has spent an (unspecified) and prolonged amount of time away from his true love, Yseut, and is further grieved by his reception of the news of King Mark’s threats against him. His heartache leads him to commit crazy, outrageous acts (such as “walking night and day...until he reached the sea” (153)) to see his beloved again, the same way people today may obsessively and repeatedly call an unresponsive love interest. Tristan’s overwhelming distress is conveniently concealed with the mask of a fool. Today these symptoms would reveal themselves in what psychology defines as a mental breakdown.

4. I believe Tristan and Yseut must die because there is no true relief for their struggles in love. In addition to being victims of the misplaced love potion, they truly fell in love with each other, becoming further entangled in a giant, complex web of lies, lust and loss. It was clear that no matter how many times the couple deceived the king or was separated, more harm was brought about. The text presents their deaths as a great but inevitable tragedy, perhaps because there was never any real hope for them. Despite this, though, the “branches intertwined” (165) above their graves imply that they are connected to each other, even in death.

The Romance of Tristan, parts 7-13

The text has once again proved engaging by throwing more twists and turns at the reader; I find the most promising plot point to be the question of whether or not Tristan and Yseut are truly stopping their relationship. It appears as though Tristan and Yseut are ending their romance not because of the worn-off love potion or because of their guilt, but instead because their life together is less convenient than it could be (in which case Tristan would be knight at King Mark’s court and Yseut would live the luxurious life of a queen, which they both contemplate (96)). Furthermore, they still seem to be very loving of each other, even without the love potion: in their parting at the King and Queen’s reconciliation, Yseut begs Tristan to stay close by in the forester’s hut, referring to him as “my love” four times throughout the conversation (110); they even “looked at each other affectionately” (112) before Tristan carried out her wish of staying near to her instead of leaving (once again deceiving the king for Yseut’s sake, displaying his true priorities despite his earlier lamenting of how he “caused [King Mark] so much distress” (96)). Regardless of the fact that the love potion has finished its duration, they still appear to be in love, and are simply tired of running. I believe it is very likely that they are only manipulating everyone around them in order to return to a comfortable lifestyle whilst still continuing their affair.

The Romance of Tristan, parts 1-6

Here's my take on the book so far:

So far, I have greatly enjoyed this book. It is full of rich language, engaging stories, and deep-rooted themes that resonate through every page. One of these themes is love: Tristan and Yseut experience, in great euphoria and also agony, the ups and downs of their unstoppable love. The book condenses the traditional path to finding love (a time-consuming, back-and-forth game of courtship) into just a drink of love potion, leaving the lovers vertiginous with what they must suspect was meant to be. Though some could view their chemically-induced love as not real love at all, it is really a metaphor for how real love truly feels: though it may creep up on someone, it will at some point hit them powerfully and leave them feeling incomplete without their love: in a perpetual state of uncontrollable desire. This metaphor is further proved by how Tristan and Yseut did not plan to love each other at all: it simply came over them unexpectedly, and against their wishes (they would never wish to hurt King Mark), as love often does. Tristan and Yseut feel horrible to betray Mark, but cannot do anything to stop their love. One of the main differences, though, between real love and the love induced by potion is that it appears as though the potion amplifies the love to a level where they have no power to stop their secret actions; but we see that this is also true for the people with real love who have affairs.