Calabrese, Michael A.  Chaucer’s Ovidian Arts of Love.  Gainesville: University Press of
Florida, 1994.

            Michael Calabrese’s Chaucer’s Ovidian Arts of Love explores the context in which Chaucer would have known Ovid and how Chaucer applied this knowledge to his works.  Consisting of five chapters and an introduction, Calabrese’s book divides the topic into two areas.  First Calabrese explores the medieval dialogue on Ovid’s life and works.  Then Calabrese examines how Chaucer used the information, with a special emphasis on Troilus and Criseyde.

            Calabrese’s first chapter examines the context in which Chaucer knew Ovid.  For the medieval scholar, according to Calabrese, Ovid’s life and his writings were a single meta narrative to be interpreted (13).  Medieval critics knew Ovid began as a love poet before switching to more serious subjects after he was exiled (Calabrese 15).  Calabrese says scholars discussed the correct context in which to read Ovid (23).  One version read Ovid as a moral voice, in which a work like Ars Amatoria III serves to teach women to be retained by men as is proper (Calabrese 26).  In contrast, another school of thought declared Ovid immoral, notably in an anonymous text entitled Antiovidianus (Calabrese 24).  Calabrese explains how this author argued that Ovid used attractive poetry to hide sinful advice (28).  It is from these understandings that Chaucer writes.

            Calabrese also examines Ovid and Troilus and Criseyde, in which he notes how both Ovid’s Ars Amatoria and Metamorphoses come into play.  Calabrese says that Chaucer uses these sources in his examination of how rhetoric is used to control change, and ultimately fails (35).  According to Calabrese, Troilus becomes a battleground for the different Ovidian perspectives (36).  Calabrese says that Troilus is initially in a world of Ovidian rhetoric, dominated by Pandarus (36).  However, Troilus lacks the language skills so prized by Ovid and Pandarus, and is therefore controlled by those who do succeed in rhetoric (Calabrese 36).  However, Calabrese says that rhetoric skill does not continue to dominate.  It is when the characters must deal with changes that Chaucer moves in the world of Ovid’s Metamorphoses (Calabrese 51).  Calabrese says that since Ovid’s remedies for love fail Troilus, Chaucer is exploring how a world based in words fail those seeking truths (72).  Troilus, the only character who desires love to reflect something meaningful, is the one who dies, while the others continue in the false world of rhetoric (Calabrese 72).  

            Michael Calabrese’s book examined how Chaucer was influenced by Ovid’s works with a special focus on the Ars Amatoria and the Metamorphoses.  Calabrese argues that towards the end of Troilus and Criseyde, the characters face changes, a theme from the Metamorphoses, and learn that the rhetorical arts praised earlier, drawn from the Ars Amatoria, nor longer suffice.  I found this an interesting interpretation, especially as Criseyde copes with being sent to the Greeks and Troilus deals with the separation and later her betrayal.  However, I found myself reconsidering Calabrese’s assertion that the earlier advice drawn from Ovid’s Ars Amatoria, ceases to function.  By taking a new lover to replace the old, Criseyde adapts to her new circumstances and survives.  Also, her new lover Diomede is a better rhetorician than Troilus ever was.  The Ovidian arts of love may fail Troilus, but not Criseyde.  In considering this, I decided that Chaucer’s combination of the more lighthearted Ars Amatoria and the Metamorphoses is not entirely to reveal the flaws of rhetoric to control the world, as Calabrese argues.  The end of Troilus and Criseyde serves to show a dark side to the seemingly lighter arts of love.  Criseyde obeys the rules and exchanges one lover for another when the first becomes inconvenient, and this in turn reveals how Ovid’s guidebook on love can hurt people.  Love cannot have a guidebook because people are too real and emotional to have their lives reduced to some witty advice.  This ties in with Calabrese’s explanation that some saw Ovid’s works as immoral.  A world constructed by rhetoric is a world that is ultimately selfish, as one uses words to manipulate others.  Troilus is unable to obey the rules and dies.  However, Criseyde, who does obey the rules and betrays him for the more convenient Diomede, in turn harmed him. I agreed with Calabrese’s interest in how Ovid shaped Chaucer, but found a different interpretation supported by Chaucer’s use of the Ovidian influence in the text of Troilus and Criseyde.

             Calabrese’s book attempts the useful task of placing an important influence on Chaucer, Ovid, in context and also exploring how that influence is reflected in Chaucer’s writings.  I found some parts of Calabrese’s analysis of Chaucer, Ovid, and Troilus and Criseyde interesting, but disagreed with the direction he chose.  Calabrese’s arguments are not perfect, but the context he provides is helpful in drawing my own conclusions about Ovid’s appearances in Chaucer’s works.

Courtney Brown

Moore, Marilyn Reppa.  “Who’s Solipsistic now?  The Character of Chaucer’s Troilus.”  The Chaucer Review 33.1 (1998): 43-57.

            In
Moore’s analysis of Chaucer’s Troilus, she argues that reading Troilus as self centered is incorrect, and in fact, Troilus gains an understanding of the world outside himself through his devotion to Criseyde. 
Moore says that Troilus’s relationship with Criseyde is not about romantic love, but instead about Troilus converting to a more moral life.  I thought that
Moore’s exploration of the religious element of the poem was interesting, but disagreed in the application.

            According to
Moore, Troilus is only self centered at the beginning of the poem, but changes when he sees Criseyde (44).  Prior to seeing Criseyde, Troilus is an arrogant young man mocking others while in the temple (
Moore 48).  However, when he sees her, Moor argues, Troilus experiences a significant change.  Moore characterizes this change as being parallel to a religious conversion, pointing out that many of Troilus’s speeches regarding Criseyde are prayer like, such as in his songs (45). 
Moore furthers this understanding in her interpretation of Troilus’s decision to seclude himself in his room after seeing Criseyde.  While some critics see this as proof of a self centered Troilus despairing over his life,
Moore views this scene as proof of Troilus’s new devotion (47). 
Moore interprets Troilus’s behavior as a form of meditation, in which he focuses on the image of Criseyde in order to discover the greater concept of love (49).  In connection to this argument, Moore refers to the philosophy of St. Anselm of
Canterbury, which encourages the devout to seclude themselves when in prayer, and to meditate on the face of God (54).  Chaucer would have known this discourse,
Moore says, and therefore the close parallels between Anselm’s advice and Troilus’s behavior are intentional (53). 
Moore believes that the intended perception of Troilus is that he discovers devotion to others through his love for Criseyde.

           
Moore also argues that Troilus’s devotion makes him a better person. 
Moore states that the Narrator establishes a change in Troilus’s public behavior, which proves Troilus has learned empathy from his devotion (51). 
Moore refers to lines in Book I describing Troilus as becoming “the frendlieste wight… dede were his japes and cruelte” (51).  Another example
Moore uses is from Book III, in which the virtues of Troilus become so laudable that they reach the “yate of hevene”, a phrase that suggests a strong religious component to the change in Troilus’s behavior.  According to
Moore’s interpretation, Troilus becomes an improved member of society.

            After reading
Moore’s essay, I noticed several things.  The first was that out of the essays I read,
Moore focused the most on the religious aspect of Troilus and Criseyde.  In the essays by Love and Davis, they discuss religion and contemporary religious discourse, but not to the degree that
Moore did, as those essays covered other subjects as well.  However, I was disappointed in
Moore’s application of the elements she discussed.  Moore’s analysis creates Criseyde as the one who inspires Troilus, and
Moore makes no mention of how that concept relates to the tradition of courtly love, a central topic in Troilus and Criseyde.  In fact,
Moore dismisses the romantic aspect of Troilus in favor of religious devotion.  This weakened the argument, as the romance of Troilus and Criseyde is the subject of Chaucer’s poem.  The story of the failed lovers overwhelms a story about a converted Troilus.  By dismissing the larger plot, 
Moore neglected to consider how the interpretation of the devoted Troilus could connect to the love story.

However, I found
Moore’s connection between Troilus’s behavior and the philosophy of St. Anselm intriguing.  I would have preferred
Moore to explore this further, and determine how those parallels tie in with the conventions of courtly love.  In his essay, “The Ends of Fiction,” Adam Davis suggests that courtly love represents a sort of counter religion to Christianity. 
Moore establishes Criseyde as a godlike figure, and then does not discuss how in the courtly tradition, the woman is created as a sort of goddess to which the man pledges his devotion.  I think that if Chaucer is drawing on the works of
St. Anselm, he does so to underscore the parallels between a courtly lover and the faithful.  By ignoring the romance,
Moore does not explore how the changed Troilus reflects a courtly lover.  In the courtly tradition that the Narrator uses, Troilus must be changed to a better person by his love for Criseyde, because in that tradition the lover always strives to be worthy of his lady. 
Moore does not discuss how the appearance of a religious discourse in Troilus’s behavior connects with the other traditions Chaucer uses.  I believe that the religious element Moore notices could be used to understand the complexity of the world Chaucer creates; a world in which different traditions interact and use each other to achieve their ends.

Moore examines the religious component in Troilus and Criseyde, and in doing so reveals why a narrow examination of a complicated text like the poem is unwise. 
Moore’s reading of Troilus as devout, and not merely a lover, limits the interpretation of the character.  Chaucer thrives on ambiguities, and
Moore does not discuss how someone like Troilus can reflect multiple traditions, even when one tradition appears to contradict the other.  In this essay,
Moore has the opportunity to examine layers but instead chose to be limited, a decision that weakens the impact of the essay.

Courtney Brown

Sadlek, Gregory M.  “Love Labor, and Sloth in Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde.” The Chaucer Review 26.4 (1992): 350-368.

            In his essay “Love, Labor, and Sloth,” Sadlek discusses Troilus’s passivity and how Chaucer enhanced this trait from Boccaccio’s Troilo in order to create a more flawed character.  Troilus suffers from sloth on his private life, a failing recognized by Chaucer and his contemporaries.  Sadlek argues Troilus’s sloth impacts the interpretation of Troilus the lover.

            The first point in Sadlek’s argument is that love requires work to succeed.  Sadlek refers to Pandarus comparing a love affair to building a house, which emphasizes that a relationship requires sustained effort (354).  However, Troilus is unable to motivate himself to perform the necessary work to successfully pursue and keep Criseyde (Sadlek 355).  Instead, he is passive and prefers to lie in bed in the grips of despair and bemoan his life (Sadlek 356).  For Troilus, explains Sadlek, his fears regarding love overwhelm him to the point he does nothing (359).  According to Sadlek, Troilus represents medieval understandings of one of the seven deadly sins, sloth.  Sloth is a spiritual and physical failing, in which the sufferer sinks into despair and lacks the fortitude to take action in life (352). 

            Sadlek continues the connection between love and work when he explores how Pandarus acts as an enabler for the slothful Troilus.  Pandarus, Sadlek points out, is the one who takes on the work of arranging the affair between the lovers, and that Chaucer greatly increased his role from Boccaccio’s Pandaro (356).  When comparing Chaucer’s version to Boccaccio’s, Sadlek refers to the initial tryst between the two lovers.  Troilo is capable of actively pursuing sex with Criseyde, while in contrast Troilus is far more passive and requires the intervention of Pandarus to interact with Criseyde (Davis 360).  Sadlek explains that Chaucer must have a motive in changing the character of Troilo/Troilus to such a great degree.

            The motive that Sadlek favors is that Chaucer intended to introduce a flaw into Troilus.  Troilus is the hero, with a truly powerful fidelity to the ideals he holds and his love for Criseyde (364).  By creating this major flaw, the sin of sloth, in Troilus, Sadlek says that Chaucer is increasing the complexity in understanding the relationship between Troilus and Criseyde (365).  Since Troilus is more flawed, the balance of guilt between the two lovers becomes more equitable, since both are now less than perfect (363).

            Sadlek’s essay examines the character Troilus and declares that he exhibits the sin of sloth.  I think that Troilus’s behavior in the poem reveals Sadlek’s point to be a very valid interpretation.  I noticed that Sadlek’s argument could work in conjunction with several other essays I read on Troilus and Criseyde.  Love’s essay, “‘Al This Peynted Process” establishes that Troilus has an obsessive personality, and a single emotion can become his entire world.  I thought this interesting in connection with Sadlek’s assertion, because Sadlek argues that, a primary factor in Troilus’s sloth is his fear.  Since Love points out that Troilus is obsessive, it is clear that when Troilus is afraid, that feeling overwhelms him.  And now that Troilus is afraid, he cannot see beyond that fear, leading him to passively wait instead of taking action to deal with that fear.  For example, it is Troilus’s fear that Criseyde will not return his love that prevents him from seeking out Criseyde without Pandarus’s help.  Sadlek and Love’s arguments work together to interpret Troilus as someone too obsessive to move beyond the thought into action.

           
Moore’s article “Who’s Solipsistic Now?” is also interesting to relate to Sadlek’s essay. 
Moore argues that Troilus experiences a sort of religious conversion and surge in devotion when he sees Criseyde, which leads him to become a better person.  Sadlek’s argument contradicts this statement, as he proves Troilus continued the sinful behavior of sloth, even with his new religion.  However, Sadlek does argue that it is Troilus’s fidelity that enables him to enter heaven, despite his slothful behavior.  Fidelity is an important aspect of the devotion
Moore argues for in Troilus, suggesting that the religious component remains in Troilus, even as others see him as flawed.  Chaucer creates Troilus with the failing of sloth, but does not allow that fault to destroy him, as Troilus continues to possess the heroic trait of fidelity.

            In the essay, Sadlek explains that Chaucer creates Troilus with the sin of sloth in order to have a more flawed character.  Troilus remains passive in his private life because his fears are too strong to overcome.  This assertion works even when related to other essays regarding the behavior of Troilus in Chaucer’s poem.  Sadlek’s argument is important in understanding Troilus and Criseyde. 

            Courtney Brown

Davis, Adam Brooke.  “The Ends of Fiction: Narrative Boundaries and Chaucer’s Attitude toward Courtly Love.”  The Chaucer Review 28.1 (1993): 54-65.

            According to
Davis in his essay, Chaucer uses the opposing discourses of courtly love and religion in order to question the ability of either to understand the complexities of love. 
Davis emphasizes the beginning and ending and their different approaches in his argument, but in his interpretations of why Chaucer designs those approaches to ultimately fail, I noticed some distinct flaws.

            The beginning and ending of Troilus and Criseyde use distinctly different approaches.  Chaucer opens the poem with references to courtly love (
Davis 56).  The beginning establishes its pagan past in the references to both the Fury Thesiphone and Cupid (Davis 56). 
Davis states that the narrator appeals to lovers, and creates itself as a sort of “love priest,” an authoritative voice on the religion of love (58-59).  Chaucer sets up the reader to accept certain conventions and behaviors, such as the reader’s willingness to accept Troilus’s odd behavior as the price to enter the story (
Davis 59).  Once the conventions are in place, the poem explores how they do not work. 
Davis points out how the narrator’s counterpart in the text, Pandarus, who is also a self styled love authority, is unable to successfully orchestrate Troilus and Criseyde’s affair (59).  Criseyde leaves Troilus, and Troilus dies.  These events undermine the authority of the courtly love.  The system does not prove to be as good an authority as the narrator initially created it.

            In contrast to the earlier domination of courtly love,
Davis reveals how the narrator ends the poem by advising a contemplative lifestyle (56). 
Davis refers to the multiple religious references of the ending, such as the advice to love God, Chaucer’s request for correction in morals and philosophy, and the invocation of the Holy Trinity (57).  Since the religion of sex and Cupid has failed, the narrator turns to Christianity according to
Davis (62). 
Davis says this switch in focus reflect Chaucer’s desire to undermine a discourse that tries to be an absolute authority (62).  The two systems oppose each other in a way that encourages the reader to question both (
Davis 63). 
Davis argues that the narrator’s initial approach is proven unreliable, which suggests that any further recommendations from the narrator could also be tainted.  Chaucer gives no discourse absolute authority over understanding love.

           
Davis says the reason both systems fail at understanding love is because courtly love and medieval Christianity deny power to women.  According to
Davis, a successful love is a mutual love, which cannot happen when a relationship is unbalanced (65).  The conventions of courtly love may promise women a more power in romance, but in the end, the man’s desires dominate the tradition (
Davis 62). 
Davis argues that Criseyde internalizes the importance of male desire over own under the tutelage of Pandarus and Troilus, which leads her to submit to the next man desiring her, Diomede (60). 
Davis then dissects the other authority on love, the religious perspective.  Medieval Christianity marginalized the voice of women and maintained the superiority of masculine opinions, which would also limit Criseyde’s ability to love well (
Davis 63).  Neither system can be relied upon as the basis for sustaining a relationship according to
Davis.

            After reading
Davis’s essay, I found that the most interesting contribution was the exploration of the contrasting philosophies of the beginning and end of Troilus and Criseyde.  Any noticeable change in narrative style is important, and
Davis creates that change as being Chaucer’s way of undermining his narrator’s credibility to the reader. 
Davis does not give the final verses greater weight in interpreting the poem than the beginning, despite the fact that it is easy to assume the last words are most important.  The radical shift that marks of the end of Book V must be more important than Chaucer’s quick reassertion of proper values in the face of his romance, and Davis explores how that can be so.

            However,
Davis weakened the argument by explaining why both the courtly love and religious discourses fail Criseyde.  I agree that the tradition of courtly love proves problematic in actuality for the lovers, because it is so artificial.  But
Davis interprets part of the problem to be the effects of the rules on Criseyde, and credited that with her decision to choose Diomede. 
Davis argued that Criseyde chose Diomede because Pandarus and Troilus trained her to obey the rules of courtly love, which require a lady to favor the man who shows interest. 
Davis neglects the fact that Diomede is not only Criseyde’s second lover in the poem, but that he is the more effective lover. 
Davis complains that courtly love limits a woman’s voice, and it is true that for Troilus this is the case, as Troilus’s speeches about his love remain self centered.  However, Diomede asks Criseyde for her opinions and seeks her voice (Book V, 858).  Diomede is working the false reversal of power in courtly love, but he does so much more effectively than Troilus does under Pandarus’s instruction. 
Davis argues that Criseyde learns to tolerate the lies of men in her relationship with Troilus, and that is what makes her susceptible to Diomede.  However, Diomede is simply a more effective lover; his lies are nicer than those of Troilus. 
Davis does not consider how the differences between Troilus and Diomede affect Criseyde’s decision. 

           
Davis also has some difficulty in supporting why religion is not the perfect authority on love. 
Davis’s argument against medieval Christianity as a guide for lovers revolves around the lack of equality between men and women.  This does not seem supported in the text, especially as the outright Christian element enters late.  A side note to this argument that
Davis briefly mentions would be a better starting point: since religion advises against physical love, it sidesteps the very real issue of a more secular love.  This would have been a better place to explain how Chaucer is subtly undermining the answers each system claims to provide.  The tradition of courtly love creates a highly limited set of rules to govern romantic encounters, and it is not trustworthy because people are more complicated that a rulebook will allow.  When someone breaks from the mold of courtly love, as Criseyde does when she initially ignores Pandarus’s attempts to involve her, the system breaks down.  Courtly love is a limited system, but in this argument
Davis suggests but does not explore, so is the purely spiritual answer.  Ignoring a situation creates its own set of limitations in how to deal with an issue as complex as love.  Since this is the advice espoused in the ending,
Davis would have done better to focus on that, and not the tenuously connect subject of women in the Church. 

            In “The Ends of Fiction: Narrative Boundaries and Chaucer’s Attitude toward Courtly Love,”
Davis discusses how Chaucer contrasts discourses in the literal boundaries of the text, the beginning and end.  Troilus and Criseyde does reflect on the relationship between courtly love and religion, but I disagreed with
Davis’s exact interpretation. 
Davis wants to prove both discourses false in the poem, but does not examine all elements in the course of doing so, an unfortunate flaw in an otherwise valuable essay.

                  Courtney Brown

Love, Damian.  “‘Al This Peynted Process’: Chaucer and the Psychology of Courtly Love.”  English Studies 5 (2002): 391-398.

            In his essay “‘Al this peynted process’: Chaucer and the Psychology of Courtly Love,” Damian Love explores the connections between the psychology of courtly love and the psychology of Chaucer’s Troilus.  Love discusses how the Troilus’s obsessive nature interacts with the lyric, religious, and secular elements of courtly love.  His essay contains several interesting insights, but Love fails to explore them fully.

            The most important thing Love establishes about the psychology of Troilus is that he is an absolutist (397).  Whatever Troilus is currently experiencing is everything to him, even when he felt the opposite moments before.  An example Love gives to support the absolutist Troilus is the rapid change from Troilus’s wholehearted dismissal of love to an equally wholehearted devotion to love (395).  Love also points out the constantly changing emotional state of Troilus, as he moves from despair about loving Criseyde, joy in receiving her love, and back to despair (397).  Troilus’s emotions consume him.

            Since the character of Troilus is so obsessive and absolute, Love explains that the addition of courtly conventions serve to heighten his flaws.  The lyricism that Troilus embraces reveals why such an embrace is bad from someone like him.  As Love says, “The lyrics transfixes a moment of passion and lends itself to stasis and introspection … a dangerous tendency for one of Troilus’s temperament” (396).  Troilus’s passions rule him.  The addition of lyricism, with its inward focus, increases this as he is encouraged to think and reflect on that emotion.  Troilus is too obsessive for introspection to be healthy; instead, it heightens his melodramatic nature.

            Love connects the absolutist Troilus with a religiously minded Troilus, suggesting that this also draws Troilus to courtly love (395).  Early in the essay, Love discusses how the courtly tradition combines the sacred and profane, as a knight pledges an almost spiritual devotion to his lady, while at the same time possessing a physical desire for her (392).  Love explains that Troilus is religious in temperament, as he wants greater meaning in his life.  Troilus’s purely physical desire for Criseyde is insufficient, so he enters a tradition that elevates that desire (Love 396).

            Love never dismisses Troilus’s emotions as anything less than honest.  However, he suggests that Troilus is aware that his internal drama regarding love and Criseyde might not bear up outside of his own mind (Love 396).  Troilus experiences a fear of exposure for all five books of the poem (Love 397).  The psychology of Troilus is focused inward, and Troilus knows his world might not survive if he turns outward.  An example Love refers to is how Troilus faints upon meeting with Criseyde, as this forces his internal drama to become external (397). 

            Love’s examination of the psychology of courtly love raises some interesting points, but ultimately Love did use all the information at his disposal.  I like Love’s description of how the conventions of courtly love were harmful to Troilus because of his personality.  In Calabrese’s book on Chaucer and Ovid, he notes that Chaucer uses Troilus to reveal problems in the art of rhetoric.  Love’s essay supports this as he shows the lyricism of courtly love enabling Troilus to continue to obsess over an event or emotion.  I believe this was the most valuable contribution from Love’s essay.         

            Love also briefly discusses the connection between courtly love and the religious tradition in Troilus and Criseyde, something noted in other essays I have read on the subject.  Love notes how “the lyrical love of a woman” reflects religious devotion in Troilus, a subject that is explored further in
Moore’s essay “Who’s Solipsistic Now?” (Love 394).  In
Moore’s exploration of devotion, she refers to the writings of St. Anselm.  Similarly, Love turns to
St. Augustine at the beginning of his essay.  However, despite using extensive quotes from the Confessions of St. Augustine, Love does not explore how Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde is connected to the writings of
St. Augustine, though Chaucer would have been aware of him.  He refers to the words of
St. Augustine regarding the ability of the mind to order itself to change, and how difficult it can be to summon enough willpower to effect change, such as increasing one’s devotion (Love 391).  This struck me because in the essay “Who’s Solipsistic Now?”
Moore notes how devotion is a process of persuading one’s self what is true.  To mention such an idea from
St. Augustine in an essay about Troilus and Criseyde and not continue to explore the connection is unfortunate.  I would have taken
St. Augustine’s remarks and connected it to Chaucer’s discussion of the power of rhetoric to control one’s world, something explored in the poem.  Troilus and Criseyde is full of instances in which characters try to convince themselves to believe something.  For example, Criseyde convinces herself to accept Troilus, and later Troilus attempts to convince himself that Criseyde’s love remains true.  These instances, however, involve characters persuading themselves that courtly love is viable, and not the religious devotion
St. Augustine discusses.  The combination of secular and religious elements in Troilus and Criseyde reflects a desire on Chaucer’s part to explore the ambiguities of these conventions.  In his essay, Love refers to these ambiguities, but does not use the information he has to examine them fully.

            Love’s essay on the psychology of courtly love in Troilus and Criseyde declares that Troilus has an obsessive and absolutist personality.  However, Love also refers to several interesting ideas regarding the connection between
St. Augustine and Chaucer’s obsessive Troilus that he fails to utilize fully.  Love’s essay can serve as a starting point in understanding interpretations of Troilus and Criseyde that others go into in more depth and detail.

Courtney Brown

            In reflecting on my performance as a student, I have realized several things.  While I do complete the readings in a timely manner, I should take more notes when I do so.  My reading is usually passive and not active.  Since I use online versions of Troilus and Criseyde, my preferred method for active reading, which is to underline any text I find interesting, is not practical.  I should compensate for this by either taking notes while I read online in a notebook or on the pages of the textbook itself.  There needs to be some way for me to take the necessary notes.  Sometimes when I find something that strikes my interest in my reading, I visit multiple versions of the text to determine the meaning.  When I was working on my close reading essay, I used a modern translation to locate the section I found interesting, and then used a site with a modernized spelling in combination with the textbook to help me examine it in more detail.  Comparing the different versions, including the text and given footnotes, helps me when I am having difficulties.

            As we study Troilus and Criseyde, I find the approach taken in class interesting.  In most literature classes I have taken, we examined the works from a more serious angle.  In this class, we discuss the likelihood that Troilus and Criseyde should not be read as a great tragedy and romance, but rather as a satire.  Lectures indicate that the more satiric interpretation is not a standard reading.  Thinking about different interpretations for a text like Troilus and Criseyde reminds me how complex understanding literature can be, and how multiple ideas can exist within a text. 

            I have begun working on the second part of my research portfolio.  I initially was unsure of my focus for this until I found an article examining the nature of courtly love in Troilus and Criseyde.  Since our class discussions on that subject have interested me, I decided to focus my research on articles dealing with the relationship between love and the poem.  Some of the interpretations I have found favor class discussion while others offer different perspectives.  There is an active dialogue on the subject that I can read and form my own opinion on the subject. 

Laskaya, Anne.  Chaucer’s Approach to Gender in the Canterbury Tales. 
Cambridge: D.S. Brewer, 1995.  

         Anne Laskaya’s Chaucer’s Approach to Gender in the Canterbury Tales, focuses on, as the title suggests, how gender functions in the Canterbury Tales.  Laskaya centralizes the socially constructed nature of gender in the analysis.  I found the book to be an interesting examination of the Canterbury Tales and of Chaucer, as Laskaya’s research offered some valuable insights.            The introduction to the book establishes Laskaya’s focus.  Laskaya is very much concerned with the concept that gender, and a person’s gender identity very much affects one’s understanding of the world (Laskaya 2).  Therefore, it is important to note that while Chaucer writes about the interaction between two genders, he is affected by his status as a man, who is writing mostly about men for an audience consisting of men (Laskaya 4).  Gender affects not only Canterbury Tales, but Chaucer as he writes Canterbury Tales.  With this as a basis, Laskaya goes on to explain the three goals of the book, which are to discuss the gender discourse of the Late Middle Ages, to explore how Canterbury Tales resists this discourse, and how gender is explored in Canterbury Tales (Laskaya 14).              Grounding Laskaya’s entire discussion on gender in Canterbury Tales is her research on medieval ideals regarding gender.  Ideals can reveal what behaviors and beliefs were valued, even if they were not always put into practice.  Laskaya identifies four separate ideal masculine types and one ideal feminine type.  The masculine types are the heroic or epic ideal, the Christian ideal, the courtly lover, and the intellectual.  Laskaya ascribes certain characteristics to each type, and highlights how the different masculine ideals contradict each other.  For example, the heroic ideal focuses on a man’s strength, his power, and control (Laskaya 15).  In contrast, the Christian ideal held that men should be noncompetitive, peaceful, and embrace sacrifice (Laskaya 16).  These offer mixed messages to men, as they are given conflicting advice to both rule and obey.  Laskaya explores this conflict throughout Canterbury Tales.  For example, the concept the tales revolve around is a competition, referencing a preferred masculine form of interaction (Laskaya 44).  Understanding masculine pressures reveals how Chaucer and his characters are seeking to understand the world.  The contrasting masculine ideals reminded me of discussions we have had in class about stories such as “The Knight’s Tale” and “Gawain and the Green Knight.”  We have discussed how the literary tradition dealt with the difference between the heroic tradition and the Christian tradition, and the difficulties of reconciling them.              The other aspect of gender analysis is the feminine.  Laskaya discusses the feminine ideal in the Late Middle Ages, noting that the ideal comes from “the Church and the aristocracy, both bastions of male power” (Laskaya 31).  The feminine ideal condemns a woman’s sexual nature and holds virgins as perfection (Laskaya 34).  The Virgin Mary is considered the greatest example of femininity, as she maintained her purity while being a mother.  Also, she was obedient to her fate and remains subservient to both God the Father and Christ her Son (Laskaya 41).  Therefore, women faced their own conflicting pressures, as their worth as virgins and as mothers create contrasting values.  In discussing the feminine ideal and women in literature, Laskaya is quick to note that most literature available, such as Chaucer’s works, may be about women, but reflects masculine concerns about what women are thinking (Laskaya 42).  As we read women in literature, is important to remember they are filtered through masculine perceptions.            I found Laskaya’s focus a different way of considering gender. 
Reading gender in literature often focuses on the text, and then on the historical situation, but Laskaya includes an examination of how the author’s gender and situation relate to the text.  Canterbury Tales is a fascinating work in that it is open about its constructed nature, because it is about the act of telling stories, so Chaucer has created different narrators the reader is aware of.  In my readings about the tales, I have noted that critics usually refer to the narrator’s motives in the story, which acknowledges how perceptions affect stories.  Laskaya connects each narrator’s motives with a gendered perspective, and how this relates to the different ideals that governed their behavior, such as the desire to compete among men.  One of the most interesting aspects of Laskaya’s analysis is the focus on the masculine.  In my past exposures with gender criticism, there is usually more weight placed on examining women in literature.  However, Laskaya places the analysis of the masculine as central to the book.  Studying the masculine discourse relates to several of the chapters, and when she goes to examine the feminine, it is always done with an awareness of the male author.  Laskaya acknowledges that men are dominant in the world of Chaucer and often resists more feminist readings of Chaucer throughout her book.  She points out that such readings grant Chaucer a greater gender awareness than he might have earned.              Chaucer’s Approach to Gender in the Canterbury Tales uses historical research and interpretation in order to illuminate a very important aspect of society and how it is used by Chaucer.  Laskaya’s argument was clear and well reasoned.  The book is useful in Chaucer and gender studies.  

McGregor, Francine.  “What of Dorigen?  Agency and Ambivalence in the Franklin’s Tale.”  The Chaucer Review 31.4 (1997): 365-377.             Frances McGregor offers an analysis of Dorigen’s agency in “The Franklin’s Tale.”  McGregor examines how Dorigen attempts to use social institutions to create her agency, and how others use those same institutions against her.  The essay is one voice in the ongoing conversation about Dorigen and “The Franklin’s Tale.”  I found some of the analysis about Dorigen’s motives compelling, but other aspects were inadequate.            McGregor argues that Dorigen tries to construct her agency within the society that denies it, as she clings to her status as a true wife.  Averagus promises an equal marriage in action, with his sovereignty only maintained for public reasons.  However, Dorigen acknowledges that he does have total sovereignty in her promise to him that she will be a “humble trewe wyf” (McGregor 371).  As McGregor explains the situation:Dorigen’s vows can be read in the same way as her pledging to be a real wife, subject to the hierarchy of husband over wife.  Where he [Averagus] says she will retain the ‘name of soveraynetee’ but not the practice, she sees beyond him, recognizing the sovereignty his vow implies, making it visible, and accepting it. (McGregor 372) Dorigen understands that for their marriage to function under their social system, she must maintain the conventional hierarchy.  McGregor argues that Dorigen attempts to assert her own destiny by embracing her subordinate position to her husband.  When Aurelius propositions her, Dorigen refers to her status as the wife and property of another man in her efforts to dissuade him (McGregor 374).  By creating her refusal in terms of her subordinate position to Averagus, Dorigen seeks to assert her own wishes as being the wishes of Averagus (McGregor 375).  Since a good woman cannot disobey her husband, Dorigen protects herself by using Averagus’s presumed wishes as a shield.  She continues this practice in her so-called “rash promise” to Aurelius, connecting her potential infidelity with the disappearance of the coastal rocks.  McGregor says that Dorigen “expresses her own desire, complete devotion to Averagus, in the most stable medium she can find – again, the rocks off the coast of
Brittany” (McGregor 375).  Dorigen wants to exercise her own agency, and she understands that she must do is within the limits of her social context as a woman.However, when Aurelius interprets her promise literally, and not in the way Dorigen intended, he takes away her agency.  By constructing her words as an honest promise, Aurelius alters the situation (McGregor 375).  Averagus agrees with Aurelius’s interpretation, and insists that Dorigen keep her word.  Dorigen intended her promise to reflect her refusal as the will of Averagus, and so when Averagus reinterprets the promise, her protection is removed (McGregor 375).  Averagus declares that for Dorigen to be true, she must go to Aurelius despite her distaste.  Society does not even allow Dorigen “the agency of relinquishing agency to the project of wifehood” (McGregor 377).  Dorigen’s attempt to use her subservience to her husband as protection backfires.As I read McGregor’s essay, I found her assertion about how Dorigen tries to create agency interesting.  Agency is usually conceived as an active and direct behavior, and not the more passive and subtle behavior that McGregor ascribes to Dorigen.  McGregor seeks to create a more active Dorigen that remains in the context of the disempowered world of medieval women.  I accepted that Dorigen ties her identity in with being Averagus’s wife, but am unsure if the more intuitive Dorigen of McGregor exists.  One of the most difficult points in reconciling an intelligent Dorigen with the tale is her lament on endangered women, which McGregor does acknowledge as problematic.  However, her attempts to refute more frivolous interpretations of Dorigen, such as that the lament is a comic device, are weak here (McGregor 376).  McGregor argues Dorigen uses her list to understand feminine agency and action, but the conclusions are unclear.  In another article on Dorigen, “Half as she were mad: Dorigen in the Male World of The Franklin’s Tale” by Mary Bowman, I noted a similar issue.  I find it difficult to reconcile a serious interpretation of Dorigen with her overwrought lament.  McGregor’s essay briefly discusses why Aurelius and Averagus take Dorigen’s agency away.  Mention is made of how the two men reject Dorigen’s intent for their own personal desires (McGregor 377).  However it is a very brief treatment on the men’s reasons, as the essay focuses more on Dorigen’s agency and not the men’s.  I thought this lack most unfortunate in the case of Averagus, as he would presumably perceive Dorigen’s fidelity to him a key part of her being a true wife.  McGregor refers to Averagus’s focus on the literal meaning of words and therefore the weight he places on Dorigen’s words to Aurelius as the cause, but does not delve very deep.  Another essay I read on the subject, by Mary Bowman, served to illuminate the masculine motives to a great degree, with more explanation of Averagus’s behavior and its relation to knightly ideals.  However, McGregor’s essay offers a much more detailed examination of Dorigen’s motives than Bowman’s did.  This reveals how different essays on the same subject can demonstrate varying aspects of the argument.  McGregor and Bowman discuss very similar topics, but the focus of their arguments differ, enabling a reader like myself to study how each argument relates and builds on the other.   “What of Dorigen?  Agency and Ambivalence in the Franklin’s Tale” seeks to explain Dorigen’s behavior.  McGregor constructs Dorigen’s behavior in the context of the social constraints, and how a woman could try to use them to her advantage.  The essay makes a good case, but has a weakness in attempting to understand Dorigen’s lament.  I found the article valuable in expanding my understanding of “The Franklin’s Tale.”   

Bowman, Mary R.  “Half as she were mad: Dorigen in the male world of the
Franklin’s Tale.” The Chaucer Review 27.3 (1993): 239-251). 

            Mary Bowman’s examination of “The Franklin’s Tale” in The Chaucer Review discusses how the narrator reduces Dorigen’s role to being an object of exchange among men in their pursuit of honor and ‘gentillesse.’  I found her arguments for this interpretation of Dorigen compelling, but there were some points that weakened the essay.            Bowman argues that Dorigen, at the end of “The Franklin’s Tale,” ceases to be a person, but a commodity according to the men of the tale.  The giving of Dorigen’s favors represents a transaction between her husband Averagus and potential lover Aurelius, with each demonstrating their ‘gentillesse’ by giving her to the other.  The commodifying of Dorigen continues with the parallel display of gentillesse, the forgiving of Aurelius’s debt to the clerk (Bowman 242).  The men use Dorigen’s person as money, only useful for satisfying a debt of honor.  Bowman ties this treatment of Dorigen in with the
Franklin’s purpose for the tale, which is to stimulate discussion on the ‘gentillesse’ of the male characters (Bowman 241).            Bowman’s argument then moves to respond to critical discussions regarding Dorigen’s honor in the text.  There is a school of thought that when Averagus insists Dorigen uphold her promise, he applies his code of honor to her, allowing Dorigen to be treated as equal to men (Bowman 244).  Bowman responds to that by saying it is unwise to assume the same moral codes for both genders (Bowman 244).  She refers to the research of psychologist Carol Gilligan, who states:  Men are more likely to follow the ‘ethic of justice,’ which emphasizes abstract rules that can be applied to all situations … women more often exhibit the ‘ethic of care,’ which… privileges the preservation of relationships (Bowman 244).Bowman suggests that gendered moral codes are in “The Franklin’s Tale.”  She points out that the masculine code, privileging devotion to an ideal at personal cost, is evident in the behaviors of Averagus and Aurelius.  Averagus gives Dorigen to Aurelius to prove his honor, while Aurelius gives her back to prove he is just as honorable as the higher ranked Averagus (Bowman 245).  Dorigen, instead, ties her honor into maintaining her relationship as a good wife to Averagus; she goes to Aurelius when Averagus declares his honor requires her to go (Bowman 246-47).  Dorigen’s honor is part of her relationship, and not an abstract ideal.            In examining Dorigen’s views about morality, Bowman goes to Dorigen’s long lament about exemplary women.  Dorigen’s understanding of her dilemma reflects her own moral code, for “to have share of her body is to be false to Averagus and to lose the one name that she values, the name of ‘trewe wyf’” (Bowman 246).  It is better to commit suicide than be unfaithful; there is no reference to the ideals of Averagus (Bowman 247).  The examples she considers show how Dorigen understands the world (Bowman 248).  Her moral basis is different from the men, but they force her to conform to their own ideals, as Dorigen exists in a male dominated society.            After reading Bowman’s essay on Dorigen, I felt that the strongest point was how Averagus and Aurelius ignore Dorigen’s opinions in favor of their own needs.  Bowman’s connection of Dorigen and the money exchanged between Aurelius and the clerk reveals the degree to which the male characters ignore Dorigen’s value as a person.  There was also a clear argument for why the men behaved in this manner, for they were working in accordance to the abstract ideal of ‘gentillesse.’  However, Bowman’s attempts to illuminate Dorigen’s morals in opposition were unclear.  Dorigen’s lament shows that maintaining her chastity is important, but Bowman’s analysis did not explain why Dorigen was at risk.  In Bowman’s interpretation, Dorigen goes to Aurelius at Averagus’s insistence, but her lament occurs before Averagus orders her to go.  Dorigen’s promise to Aurelius was not serious, and without the pressure from Averagus, Aurelius could not enforce it, so the extremes she contemplates do not fit.  Bowman declares the lament key in understanding Dorigen’s moral code.  I agree that the lament shows Dorigen’s beliefs about extramarital sex, but Bowman’s analysis does not adequately explain the pressure Dorigen is under.            Central to Bowman’s essay is the trouble Dorigen experiences in a male dominated world.  Taking the idea of woman in man’s world, Bowman refers to the character Britomart from The Faerie Queene (Bowman 239).  The essay actually begins with a brief discussion of Britomart’s problems in a man’s world.  The subject then shifts to the examination of Dorigen, though Bowman continues to reference Britomart.  “Half as she were mad” is intended for literary scholars, so certain assumptions of knowledge on the reader’s part are acceptable.  I will not complain of my personal unfamiliarity with the subject.  What I will say, however, is the addition of Britomart is jarring.  The opening of the essay suggests the subject is the similarities between Dorigen and Britomart, when in fact the subject is just Dorigen.  The inclusion of Britomart and The Faerie Queene builds false expectations and draws attention from Bowman’s rule focus in the essay.  This is easily the weakest point of the essay.            “Half as she were mad: Dorigen in the Male World of The Franklin’s Tale” offers some insights as to the beliefs of the male dominated world Dorigen exists in, but fails to give a clear understanding of Dorigen’s own opinions.  The essay suffers from extraneous references that draw the reader’s attention away from the subject, but Bowman does contribute meaningfully to the literary discussion regarding “The Franklin’s Tale.” 

Hallissy, Margaret. “Widow-to-be: May in Chaucer’s The Merchant’s Tale.” Studies in Short Fiction 26.3 (1989) 295-304.

Margaret Hallissy’s essay on “The Merchant’s Tale” examines the historical context the characters exist in and how that context highlights the intended humor in May’s behavior. Hallissy refers to medieval understandings regarding widows, sexuality, and fertility in her efforts to illuminate May’s behavior. However, the interpretation Hallissy offers is not without flaws, as the history gains precedence over the facts within the text. Hallissy’s argument lies in May’s status as a future widow. Using Chaucer’s own Wife of Bath and historical research, Hallissy proves widowhood is a desirable state for May. A widow would no longer be under the control of men, such as a daughter or wife was (Hallissy 295). Many women entered this state, as the female life expectancy was significantly higher than a male’s (Hallissy 296). As May has married a significantly older man, Januarie, she becomes that much more likely to reach the relatively autonomous state of widowhood. Having established that the audience would understand May is a soon to be widow, Hallissy then examines why this is financially desirable and how May’s behavior hurts the potential financial success. Hallissy researches English inheritance laws, and determines that May would inherit a significant portion of Januarie’s wealth (Hallissy 298). However, if May gave Januarie a son, the child would inherit instead, though May would retain some control until he was of age (Hallissy 298). Therefore, Hallissy explains, Chaucer’s audience would have known it was in May’s best interests to have no children and keep the inheritance all to her. Pregnancy is not desirable for May. With that in mind, Hallissy examines how Chaucer and his audience would have perceived the likelihood of Januarie or Damyan impregnating May. References are made to medieval conceptions about the fertility of old men like Januarie, and it is determined that he would not be considered capable of impregnating May. Hallissy explains that since Chaucer highlights May’s distaste for sex with Januarie, he intends for the audience to see the marriage as infertile (Hallissy 301). According to medical texts by Galen and later Albertus Magnus, both of which Chaucer would have known, a woman’s ability to conceive is tied to her achievement of orgasm during sex (Hallissy 301). May is obviously not receiving any pleasure from sex with Januarie, so, Hallissy reasons, the audience would understand that this relationship will produce no children to challenge May’s claims on Januarie’s wealth. However, May could conceive from a pleasurable interlude with the younger and more attractive Damyan (Hallissy 303). When May has her affair with Damyan, she is working against her established interests, which reveals how foolish May’s behavior is (Hallissy 303). The tale ends ambiguously, with the suggestion that May is indeed pregnant. May cannot put aside her physical desires long enough to work for a future goal, and therefore is as a comic figure in “The Merchant’s Tale.” In reading Hallissy’s essay on “The Merchant’s Tale,” I found her examination of medieval conventions helpful. Chaucer and his audience possessed a different belief system from my own, so an exploration of those differences can help reveal new levels of meaning. Throughout our studies of medieval literature, we have discussed how the historical context affects the writer, the reader, and the characters’ expectations and behaviors. Hallissy’s strongest argument was the assertion of May’s prosperous future as a widow. Even without Hallissy’s supporting evidence, the disparity in age and class between May and Januarie allow for reading May as a woman who will benefit from her husband’s demise. In the tale itself mention is made of Januarie making payments to May. It is an established fact that May will inherit, and that the inheritance is not a trifling amount. Using the fact that May is Januarie’s heir, Hallissy seeks to discover a humorous dimension in the situation. At the end of the tale, according to Hallissy, the foolish May has lost the significant advantages she has gained. I found that Hallissy’s interpretation worked best if several assumptions about May’s character hold true. The humor from May’s foolishness works best if May is actively scheming to inherit from Januarie. There is a difference between a schemer undone by her lusts and a foolish woman unaware of her situation. I cannot tell if Hallissy is arguing that the calculating May forgets herself for a moment of pleasure, or if the ignorant May ruins her possibilities while seeking relief from an unhappy marriage. This is a subtle difference, and Hallissy’s remarks do not make it clear what she is arguing. The essay clearly works from the angle that May does have several advantages that pregnancy would curtail, but there is nothing as to how aware Hallissy thinks May is about those advantages. Since Hallissy’s essay is about how understanding May’s status leads to the humor, there should be a better explanation of what kind of humor Hallissy perceived to be in the story. In making her case, Hallissy turns to several outside sources. This helps with the historical dimension of understanding “The Merchant’s Tale,” but there must be a serious consideration of the text itself. Januarie’s speeches clarify that he fits the stereotype of an old lecher in pursuit of a young woman, and that he is paying May for marrying him. However, May makes no comparable speeches about her motivations, making any understanding of her behavior a matter of interpretation. Perhaps that is why Hallissy makes no concrete statement about May’s personal motives, but focuses on May’s situation. However, I would be intrigued by what interpretation for May Hallissy favored. Hallissy’s essay “Widow-to-be: May in Chaucer’s The Merchant’s Tale” offers some interesting historical context but lacks in the best application of that context. The research given on medieval perceptions about widows, sex, and conception offer a good framework in which to place May and Januarie. But beyond a brief moment connecting the history with the humor, Hallissy does not successfully apply the research to understanding the tale’s comments on May.