Fabulous!

Breaking from custom here to take advantage of my editorial vantage and throw some kudos to our writing collective for their most recent issue, "Medieval Love: Crossover Edition". Four great pieces this time, each of them on point, informed, insightful, but fun at the same time--a tough balance to maintain, particularly in short-form writing like this. So, for Alison's new career, the continuing trevails of Andres on the dating scene, Andreas Capellanus's wise (?) words to Lanval, and Heloïse's pilgrimage to Canterbury: many thanks!

Lanval and Lady Love

Dearest Lanval,

I have heard word of the fortune recently sent to you by Lady Love! What a phenomenal bit of luck. I do hope that you are relishing life’s incredible happiness. Love is the most powerful force in this universe. It can reshape this very Earth; it is capable both of breathing new life into what was once gone and destroying the strongest man in the same breath. With that in mind, good sir, it is important to understand just how quickly love can be torn from your grasp. Before you have even a second to gather your wits, the thing that matters to you most will have been ripped from your arms. So, my good man, I write to you as a sort of preemptive strike. Armed with my tips and tricks, you are sure to benefit from love’s good favor for as long as you desire.

In the letter you wrote me not a fortnight ago, you spoke of a most indecorous secret: a secret lover! You say that you are not sure how to secure this maiden so that she is forever yours. According to your own pen, this woman is a true beauty. You wrote of “her face, neck, breast, her whole side/All whiter than hawthorn blossom in May” (Marie de France, "Lanval" p. 5).  An enviable woman is she! And a fortunate fellow is you. Let me begin by saying that although a woman of fair face is ideal in the dreams of men, she is less manageable in reality. A woman like the one you describe will incur the flirtations of every man and the venom of every woman she encounters. With this danger in mind, I encourage you to marry the lady! I hope that you have familiarized yourself with my works, specifically the rules I outlined at the request of Marie de Champagne. There is one that becomes especially relevant at this juncture. It reads, “it is not proper to love any woman whom one should be ashamed to seek to marry,” (Andreas Capellanus, The Art of Courtly Love, p.45) I would contend, given your flowery prose and effusive praise, that you love this girl and thus, you should marry her.

With that advice in mind, I remain aware of the secrecy which seems to pervade your relationship. You write that she warned you to never “reveal yourself to any man!/I tell you, if you break this ban,/You will have lost me forever!”  (Marie de France, "Lanval" p. 6). I am going to assume that you writing to me is an act of desperation and her warning does not extend to acts of desperation? Regardless, fear not, I will never breathe a word of your tryst to another. I will instead breathe only words of wisdom to you. I advise, dearest Lanval, that you convince your lover to take this affair public, for how else are you to be assured of her love for you. In fact, your proposal will serve two purposes, the first being the most important. I believe that “love can deny nothing to love,” so should she deny your proposal, you know that her love is not true (Andreas Capellanus, The Art of Courtly Love, p.177). The second purpose is that marriage is the only way you can take your bond to the next level, because it is true that “nothing forbids one woman being loved by two men or one man by two women,” but the bonds of marriage prevent both parties from straying outside of the union (Andreas Capellanus, The Art of Courtly Love, p.178).

In summation Lanval, I urge you to push your beloved towards the light of the public. You need not woo her with your earthly belongings, but instead your loyal nature and dedication to her and her needs. In doing so, I do believe that you will be able to hold onto this love forever more.

Yours in service,

Andreas Capellanus

Heloise: A Canterbury Tales Pilgrim

Prologue:

I, next, would like to share a tale.

So long have I lived in a convent alone

Apart from a man, my one true love.

I tried to conform to the nunnery life

Praying and singing, singing and praying

I performed the motions and tried to devote

Myself to studying how to serve the lord.

But my days were filled with such despair

Pining after my life’s one love,

My friend and teacher and true soul mate.

Decades and decades have passed

Since last I saw my Abelard.

But in our letters it seems like

Never were we ripped apart.

These past few years have I lived

An abbess of a new establishment

Arranged by Abelard my love

When of my convent’s demise he learned.

Despite the kindness that he showed

By finding my sisters and self a new home,

I can no longer bear the life of an abbess

Thinking always of my Abelard somewhere.

Having tasted true love, life now seems a waste

Separated from love by time and space.

For this reason I have set out

To find my love and reunite

And remedy this forced loneliness

Brought on by my family’s violence.

Now deceased they cannot object

To a marital union of Abelard and myself.

Where exactly he lives, I do not know

Yet I refuse to waste any more of my life

Sitting and waiting inside stone walls

Much better to journey and seek him out.

Fortunate am I to have met all of you

With whom travel is safe and conversation is lively.

Now to my story I will turn

And share with you a tale of a time long ago

When across the land such creatures did roam

That scarce a person can imagine

Ever called the Earth home.

Tale:

Once there was a maiden fair

Born in a cottage on the verge

Of a deep and darkened woods.

As the girl grew, her family oft told

She was not allowed to venture out alone.

But, one night, when she had grown,

The stars were bright and spritely moonbeams
Crept through her window on tiptoe.

They woke her up and urged her to roam,

To explore the night and dance under the sky.

Once she obeyed, tree leaves whispered

Calling her into the velvet-dark forest.

Through the trees, the stars looked on

As the young woman wandered and wondered

At nature’s night-hidden secrets.

Bushes rustled, but the girl felt no fear,

As out stepped a creature with a beard.

His face and chest were like a man’s

But his body was covered with mahogany hair.

So too were his four legs and tail.

The centaur halted and bashfully spoke,

 And quickly the two with love were took.

As the years passed the girl’s parents grew

Tired of her rejecting suitors young and old, short and tall.
“Why,” they begged, “can you not just choose

One of the many men who call on you?

Beggars can’t be choosers. It doesn’t matter which,

Just find someone who will be your groom!”

Seeing their despair she was moved to tell

Of her secret moonlight love affair.

He was mostly man, and for a marriage they wished,

So surely they would be happy she had found a man to marry.

But, upon meeting their daughter’s chosen man,

The girl’s mother shrieked and fainted

And her father grabbed up his sword.

Not understanding the unusual love,

He assumed evil and cut the groom in two.

Part man, part horse lay upon the grass

Leaving the girl filled with shock and dismay.

Tears fell on the body as she cried and cried,

And soon she was met with a surprise.

Upon her love’s body there quickly grew

A bright-eyed and snorting horse’s head.

Up the beast jumped and faced the girl

The two locked eyes and immediately understood.

They could no longer be together but always would share

A mutual love and deep desolation.

For years the horse through the wild ran

Thinking of the girl forced to give her hand

To a foolish man and a loveless marriage.

Her days were sad, but nights were bright

When she dreamt of her stallion and heart’s one desire.

Alison's Next Act ...

I have married five times, and know well the ways of men. Some are young and full of vigour, some are old and set in their ways. Others delight in their own knowledge, and still others in their lands, their ancient families, their nobility and their honour.

I have been married five times – I have married rogues and scholars, old men and misers. But I have never married a king.

My husband is a good man, they say. He does his work fairly. He is well-liked by the people of our land, and trusted by the king himself to arbitrate on his behalf. He has never been unkind to me, which is not to say he has been kind. To the contrary: he has been nothing at all. He is so busy dispensing justice that he forgets there are other ladies who need their servicing. He rides from hamlet to hamlet, and when he does not ride, he hunts.

And so, given that I myself have been long lacking a good ride, I must go on the hunt myself.

I invited the noblest people of my husband’s acquaintance to feast with us. I know how to make an impression; I know how to impress. "Fama volat," said the Roman poet, and I made sure there was a ready vehicle to spread the good news of my own being. And spread it did: soon my goodness, my beauty became known throughout the kingdom. And how can something be known throughout the kingdom without it becoming known also by the King?

He sent me gifts. My husband was never home to notice – and if he had been, he would have seen them only as tokens of appreciation for his own noble service.

Eventually, gifts and good tidings would not be enough, however. And one day when I was quite alone, with only my servants as company, he appeared: the King. Equitan. He made it known that he would like to deposit more than gifts upon my person.

But: As I say, I know men. And while I do not apologize for seeking my own pleasure, I am not stupid. Even a King can not be trusted to treat me as a partner should be treated. Indeed, he is even less likely to treat a woman well than an average man. After all, if it is true that every man has in some degree an amount of power to hold above a woman, how much more true is it of the king, who holds power over all of these men. I knew I could not accept his offer straightaway. I knew I had to have him in my own power.

By means of clever words and forthright speech I bound him to me. He was mine, and he would do my bidding. And yet still, I am not an adulteress. I have been married five times, but never did I leave a husband while he was yet alive. We have come to the present now, and there is only one solution: My husband must die.

I cannot kill him of course. I am not a murderess, any more than I am an adulteress. I know any schemes in our household could be traced to my own hand. My King could protect me from earthly accusation of wrong-doing: but what about my spiritual well-being? If my husband should die directly at my own hand, what fate would I suffer?

So I know I must not kill him. But is there harm in preventing him being killed?

I heard a story at supper one night: a story of a knight and an enchanted spring, and a terror of a storm that descended when its water was poured upon a stone. A storm that brought with it a knight set on defeating anyone who dared bring trouble to his territory.

My husband loves magic things. I made sure he heard the first part of the story; I took care to neglect to tell him the last.

I have overheard the stable-boys talking about his newest quest: to find the spring, to discover its source, and what power it may possess. He sets out on the morrow.

I have been married five times. I am waiting for the sixth. 

Medieval Love: The Crossover Episode

INT- SPORTS-BAR. LATE EVENING. 

The place isn’t very packed. There are a few families and quiet couples eating at the tables. The BARTENDER wipes down the soda machines. A TV hangs over the bar, broadcasting a game that no one takes much interest in. The bar is completely deserted, save two people seated quite a distance from one another. The WOMAN scribbles on her small, white napkin while the MAN glances around the bar, people watching. The TV sports game switches to commercial, a trailer for the modern remake of “She’s All That”.

WOMAN

I can’t believe they’re going through all this again! I mean talk about the decline of Hollywood!

MAN

I know! They just go with whatever makes the most money at the box office. This movie can’t really even be called a rom-com! Its definition of love is the real comedy! I mean-

MAN, WOMAN (unison)

The movie feigns love based on the growth of character, but its entire plot is a reinforcement of society’s infatuation with physical aesthetics and reputation! Woah!

They look at one another, shocked.

MAN

That’s exactly-

WOMAN

-I mean, I suppose-

MAN

-It’s crazy because I’ve been trying to-

WOMAN

-It’s so difficult nowadays to-

MAN

-Wait, wait, wait. We’re getting ahead of ourselves. I’m Andres.

ANDRES moves next to the WOMAN and extends his hand and the WOMAN accepts.

WOMAN

Mary, it’s a pleasure. That’s so insane that we were in sync about “She’s All That”. I mean, I think it’s obvious, but people either ignore my opinion or just don’t get it. I keep trying to explain to my audience that love is all about virtue and the nobility of character, but it honestly falls on deaf ears.

ANDRES

Your audience?

MARY

Yah, I write children’s books. 

ANDRES

Well, children-

MARY

-Don’t give me that. Kids are much smarter than we think, and it’s never too early to teach them about love. When you look at society today, there’s this focus on love as some external thing that you can’t control but controls you. You can basically get a pass on anything as long as you say the magic words “I’m in love”. I mean look at that movie. The entire time, the characters are just dragged around at the behest of this thing called love! They abandon their obligations, their sensibilities, everything for what is perceived as an external actor.

ANDRES

Granted, there is a time to be sensible, but love is something external that affects you. You can’t control it. To fall in love… well, you have to fall.

MARY

That’s very poetic, Andres, but with your line of reasoning, anything can be justified with love. Loosing all your money for love! Leaving your wife! Cheating on your husband for love!

ANDRES

Cheating isn’t all bad. Once you’re married, the love fades so-

MARY

Love fades in marriage? Really?

ANDRES

Yes, that’s my point exactly. Firstly, love is really reserved for things that you can’t have. It’s supposed to be exhilarating and new, not for something that you wake up with every morning and wash dishes with and that nonsense. Secondly, it’s a contract, an obligation. Love can’t thrive under forced conditions- it just turns into resentment. I don’t want to resent the person I love, hence, no ring on my finger.

MARY

Oh, I’m sure that’s it, and not that a woman would avoid you like sour milk.

ANDRES

If that were true, would I have literally thousands of men reading my op-eds on how to talk to women? My skill with love is responsible for the births of countless babies, sorry, your “audience”.

ANDRES pushes off his stool and heads back to his original spot at the bar.

MARY

Wait. You’re not … Oh my goodness you are. You’re responsible for that terrible advice column that runs in the paper- “The Art of Modern Love”.

ANDRES (turning back)

Of course you’d hate my articles. It fits in with your other bad tastes.

MARY

If not liking the objectification of women is in bad taste, then I’ll gladly accept that. Your articles make overly broad and insensible generalizations about classes of women, and that’s just the start of it.

ANDRES

Well, I’m sorry my characters aren’t deep enough for the author of a children’s series.

MARY

I mean, your men are greatly developed- they have the agency. As for the women, they’re robots with an imputed script. Never mind the fact that you only see class as a power imbalance and not gender itself.

ANDRES

If we had it your way, class power imbalance would just be accepted. Russian oligarchs would marry Russian oligarchs. Sweatshop workers would marry sweatshop workers. And no one could escape their marriage because of goddamn obligation! 

MARY

Now that’s not what I was-

ANDRES

-Because in the end it’s not based on agency or on character. It’s based on whatever conformist society wants you to do. 

MARY

Of course, I’m not-

ANDRES

-Maybe your stories don’t portray love as an external actor, but you know what’s driving you? Your desire to uphold tradition. You are-

MARY

-THAT’S NOT WHAT I WAS TRYING TO SAY, ANDRES!

The bar goes quiet.

MARY

That’s not what I was trying to say.

The BARTENDER moves towards MARY and ANDRES.

BARTENDER

If you ask me, you all are too obsessed with being the best. Your characters are always “the palest”, “the bravest”, “the most noble”. You’re in love with achievement, and now it’s started to affect your personal lives with “who can be the most trendy, moralistic author”. Well, let me tell you something. You’re tied for the prestigious achievement of most obnoxious, bothersome, people at the bar. That’s really something.

The BARTENDER gathers MARY and ANDRES’ glasses.

BARTENDER

 I think you all are done for the day.

The BARTENDER leaves for the kitchen but turns to MARY at the last moment.

BARTENDER

Just wanted to say that I love your work, though I wish you’d explore the spectrum of relationships more. I’m so sick of this heteronormativity in our literature.

The BARTENDER goes exits to the kitchen.

MARY

Wow-

ANDRES, MARY (unison)

Everyone’s a critic.

FIN

Our final fall edition!

So what if Bernart de Ventadorn tried to hit on Heloise ... if St. Augustine got called in to be Alison and Jankyn's therapist ... if Marie de France wrote a lay about Mary and Joseph? As winter fast approaches, tune in next week for our final fall issue: Medieval Love, Crossover Edition!

"Ghosting Isn't Cool" Commentary

In creating a modern version of Heloise’s first letter to Abelard, I chose to use the medium of text messages. This alteration highlights several differences between the two versions that affect what the reader takes away from reading each. One obvious difference in the modernized version is the adoption of a modern technology, and style, of communication. After the “playing it cool” stage, communication becomes more concise, straightforward, and blunt (especially when someone is communicating from behind the mask of a screen). This allowed me, as the modern Heloise, to be very straightforward and clear about how I felt. Though the original Heloise by no means hid her feelings in the letter, she sometimes played games in telling Abelard how she felt without (always) stating it directly. In converting the letter to today’s speak, I leaned on certain text conventions to emphasize certain things. All caps imply yelling. Emojis emphasize emotion or imply sarcasm. Short sentences with periods at the end make her seem angry or show emphasis, for example, she says, “I wanted you to CHOOSE to love me. Always” (Screenshot 6). I also cut a lot of the wordiness, anecdotes, and some of the repetition to condense and modernize the letter.

Despite condensing the letter to text format, Heloise’s series of texts was still very long. Writing a long letter is acceptable, possibly because of the length of time it takes a letter to get to the person and for a response to come back. Conversely, in the texting world in which exchanges can happen in a matter of seconds, sending a lot of texts in a row is socially unacceptable. At most, one could send several short texts in a row and still be within the bounds of what is considered socially acceptable. In my rendition of Heloise’s letter, I boiled it down to 46 texts. This allowed me to preserve several aspects of Heloise’s original letter, such as her thought process (points of argument as well as the order) and the emotional back-and-forth guilt-trip. In both the original letter and my modern version, she guilts him in several ways, saying he owes it to the community at large, telling him that it’s his fault her life turned out the way it did, reminding him of what they had, and citing his correspondences with others and laying claim to the same amount of care and respect, to name a few. In both versions, the length is in part owing to the fact that she tries to many methods to goad him into responding. Unfortunately, because of the convention to not “spam” someone’s phone, this number of texts in a row makes Heloise come off as a little crazy and obsessive. Another downside to this approach of mostly “translating” rather than completely rewriting (though I did sometimes rewrite and condense) is that the texts sometimes seemed a little unnatural. For instance, the first text says, “It’s me.” This just seems weird and a little creepy because in the world of cell phones Abelard would already know it was her texting him, and if he had lost her number, “it’s me” would not enlighten him as to who she was.

The style of speech also has its pros and cons. Some may think it odd that my modern Heloise uses complete sentences and a style of speaking that is overly formal for texts. That being said, I hoped that the formality would be understood in this context as underscoring the separation between Abelard and Heloise. Further, it can be read as an additional jab at Abelard. It’s like Heloise is saying, “you’ve become such a stranger to me now that I feel the need to speak to you formally”.  I also had Heloise use a semicolon (outside of the winky-smiley context) (screenshot 10). While this is abnormal in texts, because the Heloise in my story is an academic—I imagined her as a literature professor—the semicolon is in line with her backstory. Along with her speech style, the semicolon also implies she may be unfamiliar with texting conventions, as is common among older people. At the time they wrote the letters, Abelard and Heloise were indeed older. I considered also using frequent type-o’s and wrong autocorrects to point to Heloise’s age, but as she was an academic, I felt that she would probably proofread her texts before sending them. Type-o’s and wrong autocorrects would also have implied that she sent the texts quickly, in succession, and likely in at a time of heightened emotions without proofreading. It would then appear that that she didn’t put time into thinking through the texts and crafting her argument, which is far from what reads as a carefully and thoughtfully constructed letter.

Were I to write this again, I would consider using timestamps on the texts. This would show if she took a little time between the texts to think, if she tried one guilt-trip and waited a couple of days before trying the next, or if she wrote and sent all of the texts one after the other. Unfortunately, it is impossible to know how she approached writing her original letter—if there were drafts, if she wrote it one piece as a time, etc. So this approach would require me to take further creative license over Heloise’s thought process and backstory. Another thing I would do differently is that I would insert more jokes linking it back to the original, like Heloise’s comment “pardon my French”, literally referring to her use of a curse word, but alluding to the fact that the original Abelard and Heloise were French (screenshot 1). I would also consider boiling it down further to just the underlying sentiment. Something like “Hey, I miss you. I know we went through a lot, but this isn’t fair of you to ignore me like this. I’ll never stop loving you, but I’m fine with just texting as friends if it means keeping you in my life. Please stop ignoring me.” Still, I don’t know that this is the most effective approach as it loses a lot of what I was able to preserve by using 46 texts.