The 1804 painting The Murder of Jane McCrea by John Vanderlyn portrays a helpless white woman at the mercy of two Indian savages prepared to claim her tresses. McCrea appears completely vulnerable, with the cleavage of her voluptuous bosom exposed to the nearly nude male captors, one of whom wields an ax high above her head. The painting, based on the actual murder of a white woman at Fort Edward in 1777, utilizes an imaginary context in which to tell the story. This imaginary context paints the murder as a highly sexualized act of violence. This type of imagery repeats itself throughout many captivity and Indian war narratives, such as in James Fenimore Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans and “The Panther Captivity Narrative” written under the pseudonym Abraham Panther. Originally, the American frontier offered a truly masculine realm for the white man to explore his fascination with the red man, but the introduction of females to the wilderness undeniably upsets this exclusively male fantasy structure. Consequently, men of both races battle, not only for the dominion of the wilderness, but also to defend or possess the virtue of white women.
Captivity and Indian war narratives often aimed to displace the native as the proper hero of the American wilderness, and instead, suggested Indianized white men like Daniel Boone and Natty Bumppo should be the new chiefs of the frontier. Women, however, had no place in such a dangerous and intimidating territory. Colonists feared that a white woman captured by Indians might be defeminized by her interactions with the wild, or worse yet, that she might be forced to have sexual relations with – or even marry – an Indian. White men also feared that their women could potentially be attracted to these beautiful, physical and exotic natives. Therefore, colonists felt it necessary to protect the virtue of their women, and to a larger degree, the virtue of the nation. Violent sexual imagery like in Vanderlyn's painting helped many authors convey their anxieties about racial integration. Cooper's inclusion of women in the wilderness upsets the masculine balance that white men and Indians shared. The conclusion of The Last of the Mohicans indicates that racial integration is impossible, and that women have no place in the masculine wilderness fantasy between the white man and the red man. “The Panther Captivity Narrative,” on the other hand, challenges the notion that woman cannot survive in the wilderness, and instead indicates that not only Indians but men in general are a threat to woman's virtue.
Cora and Alice, the leading ladies of The Last of the Mohicans, are both inherently and potentially sexual characters. Alice is weak and innocent; she weeps and faints at the sight of physical danger. Cora starkly contrasts her sister, with a “rather fuller and more mature” figure, which quickly becomes the object of two Indians' affections (17). One of these men is Magua, a Huron Indian who threatens the white man's very fears of interracial relationships. Cora is prey to all of the perils white women taken captive by Indians face – defeminization, rape and Indianization. Vanderlyn's sexual imagery is evoked when Magua raises an ax above Cora's head, threatening to kill her: “The form of the Huron trembled in every fibre, and he raised his arm on the high, but dropped it again with a bewildered air, like one who doubted” (413). Magua's hesitation indicates a real affection for Cora. His feelings for her, predicated by violence, have become something more sentimental. Cooper ultimately determines that a white woman/red man relationship is immoral regardless of the foundation on which it is formed. The deaths of both Cora and Magua indicate that interracial relationships were not acceptable in the New World. Furthermore, the novel ends just as it began – with the wilderness as a masculine world with no room for female disturbances.
“The Panther Captivity Narrative” challenges notions that women have no place on the frontier. The tale of the woman taken captive by Indians in 1777 (ironically, the same year of McCrae's murder) is told within a letter to an unnamed recipient requesting information about the “Western wilderness” (211). The writer tells of how he and his companion, Mr. Camher, came upon a “most beautiful young lady! sitting near the mouth of a cave!” (212). As they approach her, the lady screams and swoons, and after coming to and being calmed by the men, tells them her story of captivity. The account, which began as a masculine tale of two men trekking through the wilderness, turns sharply at this point to accommodate the female captivity narrative. However, this captivity narrative does not resemble traditional tales of women like Mary Rowlandson or Maria Kittle. Instead, the woman presents all of the ways in which she is able to successfully survive in the wilderness after her capture.
First, she is driven into elopement by her father, who refuses to permit a relationship between the young woman and the man she loves. On the fourth day after she leaves her father's home, she and her lover are captured by Indians, and the latter is barbarously murdered. Surprisingly, by swooning and laying on the ground until her captors are preoccupied, the woman is able to escape, and subsequently wanders aimlessly in the wilderness for fourteen days. Most narratives would, at this point, focus on woman's lack of ingenuity and navigation in the wilderness. However, “The Panther Captivity Narrative” details this woman's ability to survive on her own: “By day the spontaneous produce of earth supplied me with food, by night the ground was my couch, and the canopy of heaven my only covering” (214).
On the fifteenth day of her wandering, she is approached by a “man of gigantic figure,” who captures her and leads her back to the very cave the writer finds her in (214). The man indicates that he would like to have sexual relations with the woman, and she declines his offer, prompting a scene very much like Vanderlyn's: “... at length he rose in a passion … and brought forth a sword and hatchet. He then motioned to me, that I must either accept of his bed, or expect death for my obstinacy” (214). Once again the woman objects and the man (whose identity is never clearly defined as white, Indian or other) ties her up for the night, giving her time to reconsider her decision. During the night, however, she frees herself from her restraints, and, taking up her captor's hatchet, “with three blows effectually put[s] an end to his existence” (214).
“The Panther Captivity Narrative” turns man's expectations of women in the wilderness upside-down, suggesting that, if white men have a place in the wilderness alongside Indians, so do white women. The woman in this narrative is neither masculinized or Indianized, as previously feared. Despite her nine-year experience in the wilderness, she still reflects a well-bred, sophisticated white woman. She swoons and cries, she is a gracious hostess to the men who discover her, she adopts a small dog as a pet, and her singing cannot be distinguished from that of a bird. Ironically, she also murders and dismembers her captor. This action is acceptable, however, because she commits the act in order to protect her chastity, which would have been wholly in line with white men's desires. “The Panther Captivity Narrative” helps displace the male wilderness fantasy by suggesting that women were indeed fit to survive on the frontier. The woman in the narrative is taken captive not only by Indians, but also by her father and another man whose race is unspecified, indicating that all men are a threat to woman's virtue.
Works Cited
Cooper, James Fenimore. The Last of the Mohicans. New York: Signet, 2005. Print.
Panther, Abraham. “The Panther Captivity Narrative.” Edgar Huntly. Ed. Philip Barnard and Stephen Shapiro. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing, 2006. 211-215. Print.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Sympathizing With the Savage
In 1759, Scottish philosopher Adam Smith wrote “The Theory of Moral Sentiments,” a treatise outlining how and to what extent one man is capable of feeling sympathy for another. His theory was particularly significant at the time because global interactions during the Colonial Era made humans from a variety of different cultures question their ability to interact with one another without provocation. Smith describes the personal affections we feel for others after forcing ourselves to relate to their sensations. He explains how we choose companions who are most likely to reciprocate our sympathies. He also contests that “we are often differently affected” by particular sensations, and that “our different habits of life” create varying possibilities for our capacity to sympathize. While Smith claims that men are capable of relating to one another through shared feelings, he also justifies their ability to disagree because each man perceives certain sensations as more important than others. In 1783, as a battle over American soil raged between European settlers and the land's native inhabitants, Benjamin Franklin channeled Smith's theory in his “Remarks Concerning the Savages of North America.” By drawing upon notions explored in Smith's theory, Franklin asserts that native American Indians are not “savages,” but rather part of a culture unfamiliar to that of European settlers.
The ability to sympathize with one another is of utmost importance, according to Smith, because “society and conversation … are the most powerful remedies for restoring the mind to its tranquility.” In his remarks, Franklin praises the Indians for their use of oratory, explaining how both public transactions and tradition are passed down through memorization, as they have no written language to utilize. He claims that they have an “abundance of leisure for improvement by conversation” and that “having frequent occasions to hold public councils, they have acquired great order and decency in conducting them.” According to their culture, it is extremely improper to interrupt someone speaking, even in common conversation. These images of peaceful communion are contrasted with Franklin's description of a chaotic session of the British House of Commons, where few men can come to agreement and politeness in conversation is hardly observed. The Indians' ability to successfully participate in “society and conversation” prove them to be much less “savage” than the Europeans who fail to utilize sympathy in their processes of communication.
Native American Indians' ability to listen when others speak is a direct result of the importance their culture places on politeness. Smith writes that we must “always endeavor to bring down our passions” to a pitch comparable to that of our company. Furthermore, he claims that “if we are at all masters of ourselves, the presence of a mere acquaintance will really compose us, still more than that of a friend; and that of an assembly of strangers still more than that of an acquaintance.” Smith advocates utilizing sympathy “especially when in their presence and acting under their observation.” Franklin identifies the Indians' extreme politeness in several instances. For example, at the Treaty of Lancaster in Pennsylvania in 1744, when the commissioners of Virginia offered the Indians of the Six Nations an opportunity to send their youth to a Williamsburg college, they waited a full day before making their reply. Franklin explains that this is an Indian rule, and that a public proposition is never to be answered before the tribe has a significant amount of time to weigh the issue, as doing otherwise would indicate the Indians' lack of appreciation, or sympathy, for the matter. Franklin, with his colonial conceptions, still finds this politeness troubling: “The politeness of these savages in conversation is indeed carried to excess, since it does not permit them to contradict or deny the truth of what is asserted in their presence. By this means they indeed avoid disputes; but then it becomes difficult to know their minds, or what impression you make upon them.” While this politeness is certainly of a peaceful nature, even Franklin admits the prospect of it causing tension between the cultures. He reminds us, however, that “if we could examine the manners of different nations with impartiality, we should find no people so rude, as to be without any rules of politeness; nor any so polite, as not to have some remains of rudeness.”
Franklin's illustration of the proposal at the Treaty of Lancaster also demonstrates the two cultures' differing sentiments regarding labor and education. The Indians' reply is thoughtful, with regard to the commissioners' good intentions: “For we know … that you highly esteem the kind of learning taught in those colleges, and that the maintenance of our young men, while with you, would be very expensive to you.” However, although they are able to sympathize with the white men's intentions, they reject their offering, stating that “different nations have different conceptions of things,” and that their “ideas of this kind of education happen to to be the same” as the Europeans'. They had experienced English education, and had determined it to make their men unsuitable for native American life. Franklin remarks that while the Indians may seem “slavish and base” to us, they regard the education with which we value ourselves to be “frivolous and useless.” Smith's theory that men are capable of varying degrees of sympathy according to the subjects which he is most personally affected by explains why colonists and Indians were likely to disagree on the importance of labor and education in their daily lives.
These varying degrees of sympathy manifest themselves in the two cultures' religions as well. Franklin writes that missionaries are often frustrated with Indians because they will listen to stories of the Gospel with patience, understanding and approbation, but fail to actually convert their own sympathies to the Christian doctrine. He writes about an Indian who attempts to relay the natives' version of Creation to a Christian missionary. The missionary becomes “disgusted with this idle tale” and lashes out at the Indian for delivering “mere fable, fiction and falsehood” in exchange for “sacred” Christian “truths.” The Indian replies that the missionary has not been properly instructed in the “rules of common civility,” and that it is ironic that the Christian should refuse listening to the Indian's revelation after he had listened intently to the missionary's. Smith claims that a spectator, or listener, in this instance, must “endeavor as much as he can, to put himself in the situation of the other, and to bring home to himself every little circumstance of distress which can possibly occur to the sufferer,” and that “he must adopt the whole case of his companion with all its minutest incidents; and strive to render as perfect as possible, that imaginary change of situation upon which his sympathy is founded.” The missionary fails to put himself in the position of the Indian, whose story highlighted his people's struggle with starvation. Despite the desperate tale, the missionary finds no way to sympathize with the Indian. Religion, one of the most affective sensations of all, prevents the Christian man from putting himself in the position of the Indian, whose conceptions of spirituality are vastly different.
Franklin recognizes the importance of Smith's theory in relations between the Europeans and the native Americans. He finds varying degrees of sympathy in men to be responsible for the inevitable clash of cultures. Smith forewarns that a lack of mutual sympathy can only result in malice:
With his remarks, Franklin attempts to create genuine sympathy for the native American “savages.” However, he seems to be keenly aware that a lack of sympathy on the part of the white man will be detrimental to the assimilation of both cultures.
Works Cited
Franklin, Benjamin. “Remarks Concerning the Savages of North-America.”
Smith, Adam. “The Theory of Moral Sentiments.” 1759.
The ability to sympathize with one another is of utmost importance, according to Smith, because “society and conversation … are the most powerful remedies for restoring the mind to its tranquility.” In his remarks, Franklin praises the Indians for their use of oratory, explaining how both public transactions and tradition are passed down through memorization, as they have no written language to utilize. He claims that they have an “abundance of leisure for improvement by conversation” and that “having frequent occasions to hold public councils, they have acquired great order and decency in conducting them.” According to their culture, it is extremely improper to interrupt someone speaking, even in common conversation. These images of peaceful communion are contrasted with Franklin's description of a chaotic session of the British House of Commons, where few men can come to agreement and politeness in conversation is hardly observed. The Indians' ability to successfully participate in “society and conversation” prove them to be much less “savage” than the Europeans who fail to utilize sympathy in their processes of communication.
Native American Indians' ability to listen when others speak is a direct result of the importance their culture places on politeness. Smith writes that we must “always endeavor to bring down our passions” to a pitch comparable to that of our company. Furthermore, he claims that “if we are at all masters of ourselves, the presence of a mere acquaintance will really compose us, still more than that of a friend; and that of an assembly of strangers still more than that of an acquaintance.” Smith advocates utilizing sympathy “especially when in their presence and acting under their observation.” Franklin identifies the Indians' extreme politeness in several instances. For example, at the Treaty of Lancaster in Pennsylvania in 1744, when the commissioners of Virginia offered the Indians of the Six Nations an opportunity to send their youth to a Williamsburg college, they waited a full day before making their reply. Franklin explains that this is an Indian rule, and that a public proposition is never to be answered before the tribe has a significant amount of time to weigh the issue, as doing otherwise would indicate the Indians' lack of appreciation, or sympathy, for the matter. Franklin, with his colonial conceptions, still finds this politeness troubling: “The politeness of these savages in conversation is indeed carried to excess, since it does not permit them to contradict or deny the truth of what is asserted in their presence. By this means they indeed avoid disputes; but then it becomes difficult to know their minds, or what impression you make upon them.” While this politeness is certainly of a peaceful nature, even Franklin admits the prospect of it causing tension between the cultures. He reminds us, however, that “if we could examine the manners of different nations with impartiality, we should find no people so rude, as to be without any rules of politeness; nor any so polite, as not to have some remains of rudeness.”
Franklin's illustration of the proposal at the Treaty of Lancaster also demonstrates the two cultures' differing sentiments regarding labor and education. The Indians' reply is thoughtful, with regard to the commissioners' good intentions: “For we know … that you highly esteem the kind of learning taught in those colleges, and that the maintenance of our young men, while with you, would be very expensive to you.” However, although they are able to sympathize with the white men's intentions, they reject their offering, stating that “different nations have different conceptions of things,” and that their “ideas of this kind of education happen to to be the same” as the Europeans'. They had experienced English education, and had determined it to make their men unsuitable for native American life. Franklin remarks that while the Indians may seem “slavish and base” to us, they regard the education with which we value ourselves to be “frivolous and useless.” Smith's theory that men are capable of varying degrees of sympathy according to the subjects which he is most personally affected by explains why colonists and Indians were likely to disagree on the importance of labor and education in their daily lives.
These varying degrees of sympathy manifest themselves in the two cultures' religions as well. Franklin writes that missionaries are often frustrated with Indians because they will listen to stories of the Gospel with patience, understanding and approbation, but fail to actually convert their own sympathies to the Christian doctrine. He writes about an Indian who attempts to relay the natives' version of Creation to a Christian missionary. The missionary becomes “disgusted with this idle tale” and lashes out at the Indian for delivering “mere fable, fiction and falsehood” in exchange for “sacred” Christian “truths.” The Indian replies that the missionary has not been properly instructed in the “rules of common civility,” and that it is ironic that the Christian should refuse listening to the Indian's revelation after he had listened intently to the missionary's. Smith claims that a spectator, or listener, in this instance, must “endeavor as much as he can, to put himself in the situation of the other, and to bring home to himself every little circumstance of distress which can possibly occur to the sufferer,” and that “he must adopt the whole case of his companion with all its minutest incidents; and strive to render as perfect as possible, that imaginary change of situation upon which his sympathy is founded.” The missionary fails to put himself in the position of the Indian, whose story highlighted his people's struggle with starvation. Despite the desperate tale, the missionary finds no way to sympathize with the Indian. Religion, one of the most affective sensations of all, prevents the Christian man from putting himself in the position of the Indian, whose conceptions of spirituality are vastly different.
Franklin recognizes the importance of Smith's theory in relations between the Europeans and the native Americans. He finds varying degrees of sympathy in men to be responsible for the inevitable clash of cultures. Smith forewarns that a lack of mutual sympathy can only result in malice:
But if you have either no fellow-feeling for the misfortunes I have met with, or none that bears any proportion to the grief which distracts me; or if you have either no indignation at the injuries I have suffered, or none that bears any proportion to the resentment which transports me, we can no longer converse upon these subjects. We become intolerable to one another. I can neither support your company, nor you mine. You are confounded at my violence and passion, and I am enraged at your cold insensibility and want of feeling.
With his remarks, Franklin attempts to create genuine sympathy for the native American “savages.” However, he seems to be keenly aware that a lack of sympathy on the part of the white man will be detrimental to the assimilation of both cultures.
Works Cited
Franklin, Benjamin. “Remarks Concerning the Savages of North-America.”
Smith, Adam. “The Theory of Moral Sentiments.” 1759.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Constructing a Monster
In the late 1980s, as the second wave of feminism ended and the third began, a variety of new approaches to gender criticism emerged. One such approach, founded on the ideas of linguist Ferdinand de Saussure, sought to deconstruct the world by analyzing the language with which humans describe it. Feminists became concerned with the acts of “conditioning” and “socialization,” attempting to determine how society distinguishes between the terms “female” and “feminine.” Socialization inevitably defines feminine characteristics that are accepted as “normal,” and creates a set of codes under which all females must operate. However, as the third wave of feminism highlighted the eclectic voices of modern women, society discovered that typically “feminine” characteristics are not inherent in every female. In her book, Sexual Politics, American feminist writer Kate Millett claims that the most crucial distinction within feminism is between sex and gender, “the former being a matter of biology, the latter a construct, something learned or acquired, rather than 'natural'” (Barry). Furthermore, French social theorist Simone de Beauvior claims, in Part Two of her book The Second Sex, that “One is not born a woman; rather, one becomes a woman” (Barry). Both of these statements assert that while gender may be a biological determination, sexuality is constructed by social experiences after birth. Society expects a woman's sexuality to evolve in one direction – toward her sexual subjugation unto male dominance. Once females discover their sexuality, they are expected to use it to propagate the male seed. As more sexually independent women emerged during the 1980s, it is no surprise that political issues evolved out of their desire to achieve gender equality. The 2003 film, Monster, which is based on the true story of the United States' first convicted female serial killer, Aileen Wuornos, is a testament to the danger of society's strictly defined gender roles. Women who are pressured to adhere to gender characteristics they do not biologically possess may potentially lash out against society for the gender branding to which they've been subjected. It could be said that society itself is responsible for the construction of the cold-blooded killer that Wuornos became.
Wuornos challenged traditional gender roles at every turn, working as a prostitute, being involved in a lesbian relationship, and eventually morphing into a man-killing “monster.” Wuornos admitted to killing six men between 1989 and 1990, and was executed for her crimes in 2002. She was unrepentant in her admission of the acts, as if the victims deserved to pay for what she claimed to be a life of male-dominated oppression. As a prostitute, she seduced men into desiring her sexual services, and then, just before she delivered, she murdered them. But the film depicts Wuornos as more than just a murderous prostitute. Flashbacks show that Wuornos turned to killing as a result of the constant oppression she'd endured because of her gender since she was a small child. While she may have used her gender to her advantage while seeking murderous justice, she had previously failed to escape the confinement of her gender time and time again. This is what drove Wuornos to her monstrous crimes.
Although the film doesn't attempt to justify Wuornos' actions, it does depict her as a flawed, loving, and hopeful character. It becomes easy to sympathize with her even though her crimes are so outrageous. The film begins with Wuornos' narration as she reminisces about letting boys look at her breasts for money and acceptance. She was raped by a family friend at age 8, and when she told her father about it, he beat her. She was pregnant by the age of 13, and by the time she was old enough to care for herself, all she knew was sex. She kept searching for the right man to take her away from her miserable world, exchanging sexual favors for attention. When men started refusing her attention and paying her money instead, she accepted prostitution as a way of life. At one point in the film, Wuornos makes up her mind to change her lifestyle, to get a job, and to clean up her act. She is ridiculed for her ignorance at every turn, and even a police officer propositions her for a sex act, telling her, “Once a prostitute, always a prostitute.” Wuornos claimed self-defense in the first murder; she said the man raped and brutalized her beforehand. But while the film generates some sympathy for Wuornos and her unfortunate life, it still depicts the brutality of the murders and the calculating attitude with which she carried them out. By the third murder, she was carefully planning the engagements and keeping newspaper clippings about the murders as mementos. Still, in defense of Wuornos, the authors of the article, “Serial Murder and the Case of Aileen Wuornos” state that “the social, psychological, and family history of Ms. Wuornos … is helpful as it explains the manifestation and maintenance of attachment disorder and psychopathy throughout much of her life” (Arrigo & Griffin). It is evident that Wuornos' cold-blooded demeanor emerged from the constraints placed upon her by society. Wuornos did not “become a woman,” as de Beauvior suggests, but was forced, time and time again, to fulfill the feminine roles prescribed to her.
Monster speaks volumes about what is typical and what is deviant regarding gender roles in modern American society. First, it proves that a society based on gender and class hierarchies has no sympathy for abused girls who grow up to be prostitutes. The legal system determined Wuornos to be not only guilty but deserving of the death penalty. Second, it reaffirms – and then challenges – the typical roles of dominant males and submissive females. It depicts how males work to keep females “in their place.” Wuornos' story is not typical of every woman's, but it is an extreme case of the male- dominated oppression many women encounter at some point in their lives. When Wuornos finally decided to act on the anger raging within her, she took on a more dominant role, and at last used her gender as a variable, luring men into a deadly trap. Third, the movie joins a long line of films depicting lesbians as dangerous. Wuornos becomes involved with a woman just as she begins her murderous rampage. Her disgust for men prevents her from having sexual relations with them outside of prostitution, so she becomes involved with Selby Wall who teaches her how it feels to be loved and then eventually gives her up for her crimes. But Wuornos is not the strategic, psychological killer that is portrayed in films like Basic Instinct. She phallacizes herself by killing with a gun, providing some distance between it and her victims, because she knows her physical presence is incapable of creating fear in the men. The evolution of Wuornos' criminality indicates that as she began seeking vengeance against her violators, she also began taking on more and more masculine characteristics. Wuornos challenged femininity at every turn. Not primarily feminine or masculine, Wuornos proved that women can not be held to typical gender roles in today's modern society.
As noted by Miriam Basilio in her article, “Corporal Evidence: Representations of Aileen Wuornos,” the case “is examined in relation to the high degree of violence against women and the marked disparities in prison sentences for men and women convicted of violent crimes.” At a time when women's social mobility caused anxiety in conservative sectors of American society, the story of America's first female serial killer became highly sensationalized by the media. Prosecutors and media commentators labeled Wuornos as a “highway sex worker,” and the FBI profiled her as “a (male) serial killer with the stereotype of a masculine lesbian” (Basilio). The media's stress on Wuornos as a female serial killer undermines the routine incidences of violence against women as well as any attempt for a woman to defend herself.
As depicted in the film, Wuornos supported her own death sentence. She lacked remorse regarding the murders and thought death to be the only way to escape her oppression. It is imperative that gender issues like those that Wuornos suffered are not ignored in the social arena. Men must not assume that they are losing a piece of the proverbial pie to women's social elevation. This power struggle must be abandoned for gender progress to be made in the world. Society as a whole must avoid creating language which engenders human beings who are incapable of being defined as primarily masculine or feminine. A female who had been sexually violated her entire life, Wuornos found it impossible to escape the oppression of her gender. She simply could not divorce a lifetime of experience from the urge to taste justice.
Works Cited
Arrigo, Bruce A. and Griffin, Ayanna. “Serial Murder and the Case of Aileen Wuornos: Attachment Theory, Psychopathy, and Predatory Aggression.” Behavioral Sciences and the Law 22. 2004, 375-393.
Barry, Peter. “Feminist Criticism.” Beginning Theory. 2nd ed. New York: Manchester University Press, 2002, 121-134.
Basilio, Miriam. “Corporal Evidence: Representations of Aileen Wuornos.” Art Journal 55(4). 1996.
Monster. Dir. Patty Jenkins. Perf. Charlize Theron, Christina Ricci. 2003. DVD. Media 8 Entertainment, 2004.
Wuornos challenged traditional gender roles at every turn, working as a prostitute, being involved in a lesbian relationship, and eventually morphing into a man-killing “monster.” Wuornos admitted to killing six men between 1989 and 1990, and was executed for her crimes in 2002. She was unrepentant in her admission of the acts, as if the victims deserved to pay for what she claimed to be a life of male-dominated oppression. As a prostitute, she seduced men into desiring her sexual services, and then, just before she delivered, she murdered them. But the film depicts Wuornos as more than just a murderous prostitute. Flashbacks show that Wuornos turned to killing as a result of the constant oppression she'd endured because of her gender since she was a small child. While she may have used her gender to her advantage while seeking murderous justice, she had previously failed to escape the confinement of her gender time and time again. This is what drove Wuornos to her monstrous crimes.
Although the film doesn't attempt to justify Wuornos' actions, it does depict her as a flawed, loving, and hopeful character. It becomes easy to sympathize with her even though her crimes are so outrageous. The film begins with Wuornos' narration as she reminisces about letting boys look at her breasts for money and acceptance. She was raped by a family friend at age 8, and when she told her father about it, he beat her. She was pregnant by the age of 13, and by the time she was old enough to care for herself, all she knew was sex. She kept searching for the right man to take her away from her miserable world, exchanging sexual favors for attention. When men started refusing her attention and paying her money instead, she accepted prostitution as a way of life. At one point in the film, Wuornos makes up her mind to change her lifestyle, to get a job, and to clean up her act. She is ridiculed for her ignorance at every turn, and even a police officer propositions her for a sex act, telling her, “Once a prostitute, always a prostitute.” Wuornos claimed self-defense in the first murder; she said the man raped and brutalized her beforehand. But while the film generates some sympathy for Wuornos and her unfortunate life, it still depicts the brutality of the murders and the calculating attitude with which she carried them out. By the third murder, she was carefully planning the engagements and keeping newspaper clippings about the murders as mementos. Still, in defense of Wuornos, the authors of the article, “Serial Murder and the Case of Aileen Wuornos” state that “the social, psychological, and family history of Ms. Wuornos … is helpful as it explains the manifestation and maintenance of attachment disorder and psychopathy throughout much of her life” (Arrigo & Griffin). It is evident that Wuornos' cold-blooded demeanor emerged from the constraints placed upon her by society. Wuornos did not “become a woman,” as de Beauvior suggests, but was forced, time and time again, to fulfill the feminine roles prescribed to her.
Monster speaks volumes about what is typical and what is deviant regarding gender roles in modern American society. First, it proves that a society based on gender and class hierarchies has no sympathy for abused girls who grow up to be prostitutes. The legal system determined Wuornos to be not only guilty but deserving of the death penalty. Second, it reaffirms – and then challenges – the typical roles of dominant males and submissive females. It depicts how males work to keep females “in their place.” Wuornos' story is not typical of every woman's, but it is an extreme case of the male- dominated oppression many women encounter at some point in their lives. When Wuornos finally decided to act on the anger raging within her, she took on a more dominant role, and at last used her gender as a variable, luring men into a deadly trap. Third, the movie joins a long line of films depicting lesbians as dangerous. Wuornos becomes involved with a woman just as she begins her murderous rampage. Her disgust for men prevents her from having sexual relations with them outside of prostitution, so she becomes involved with Selby Wall who teaches her how it feels to be loved and then eventually gives her up for her crimes. But Wuornos is not the strategic, psychological killer that is portrayed in films like Basic Instinct. She phallacizes herself by killing with a gun, providing some distance between it and her victims, because she knows her physical presence is incapable of creating fear in the men. The evolution of Wuornos' criminality indicates that as she began seeking vengeance against her violators, she also began taking on more and more masculine characteristics. Wuornos challenged femininity at every turn. Not primarily feminine or masculine, Wuornos proved that women can not be held to typical gender roles in today's modern society.
As noted by Miriam Basilio in her article, “Corporal Evidence: Representations of Aileen Wuornos,” the case “is examined in relation to the high degree of violence against women and the marked disparities in prison sentences for men and women convicted of violent crimes.” At a time when women's social mobility caused anxiety in conservative sectors of American society, the story of America's first female serial killer became highly sensationalized by the media. Prosecutors and media commentators labeled Wuornos as a “highway sex worker,” and the FBI profiled her as “a (male) serial killer with the stereotype of a masculine lesbian” (Basilio). The media's stress on Wuornos as a female serial killer undermines the routine incidences of violence against women as well as any attempt for a woman to defend herself.
As depicted in the film, Wuornos supported her own death sentence. She lacked remorse regarding the murders and thought death to be the only way to escape her oppression. It is imperative that gender issues like those that Wuornos suffered are not ignored in the social arena. Men must not assume that they are losing a piece of the proverbial pie to women's social elevation. This power struggle must be abandoned for gender progress to be made in the world. Society as a whole must avoid creating language which engenders human beings who are incapable of being defined as primarily masculine or feminine. A female who had been sexually violated her entire life, Wuornos found it impossible to escape the oppression of her gender. She simply could not divorce a lifetime of experience from the urge to taste justice.
Works Cited
Arrigo, Bruce A. and Griffin, Ayanna. “Serial Murder and the Case of Aileen Wuornos: Attachment Theory, Psychopathy, and Predatory Aggression.” Behavioral Sciences and the Law 22. 2004, 375-393.
Barry, Peter. “Feminist Criticism.” Beginning Theory. 2nd ed. New York: Manchester University Press, 2002, 121-134.
Basilio, Miriam. “Corporal Evidence: Representations of Aileen Wuornos.” Art Journal 55(4). 1996.
Monster. Dir. Patty Jenkins. Perf. Charlize Theron, Christina Ricci. 2003. DVD. Media 8 Entertainment, 2004.
Chaucer's Wife of Bath: Feminism for the Ages
For centuries, literary critics have debated Geoffrey Chaucer's sexual politics within Canterbury Tales. Perhaps the most debatable of his characters is the head-strong, sexually motivated Wife of Bath. The Wife speaks as both a feminist and a misogynist, promoting the characteristics of her nature while simultaneously denouncing them. While Chaucer's story was likely interpreted as comedic by his Medieval audience, 21st century gender analysts seek to understand the author's true intent. As a modern woman, I find Chaucer's voice liberating for women of his era, and conclude that his satire was fueled by a desire to undermine the misogynistic tone of the world in which he lived. Chaucer was aware of the historical patriarchal constraints on women, and also of another sort of woman who was emerging thanks to the Roman Catholic Church's emphasis on the importance of marriage. Some women were making a career out of wifehood – a vice the Wife of Bath has no qualms bragging about. My analysis will consist of two main components: historical/societal context and the gendered language of the prose. I seek to prove Chaucer a feminist based upon his contradictory tale.
Life for the common Medieval women was challenging. Blamed for the Fall of Man, she was destined to suffer. She was the property of her husband and no more than a vessel for transmitting seed from one generation of males to the next. Judith Bennet claims that “Medieval people thought of conjugality as a hierarchy headed by a husband who not only controlled his wife's financial assets and public behavior, but also freely enforced his will through physical violence” (qtd. Butler). In fact, occasional violence was acceptable and expected in marriage. While Benedictine orders recommending marriage over sexual deviance protected many single women from rape and premarital assault, it confined others to a life of male domination and silence. Many women married for financial security and to have some level of political power through their husbands. Also, a married woman was considered a better-governed woman, thus she could satisfy her community by fulfilling a Christian duty (Nelson).
Despite the brutal conditions women were often exposed to in their marriages, many women fought to hold onto their unions even when their husbands desired an annulment. Although the church gave husbands divine power over their wives, the courts still somewhat upheld marriages as an equal union. Women seeking separation from their husbands could successfully walk away with half of the couple's assets. Because women discovered this ally, they began taking advantage of their husbands just as they had been taken advantage of for years. Women found a loophole through which they could claim cruelty, unfaithfulness or impotence of their husbands, and the courts would reward them for their suffering (Butler). Chaucer's Wife of Bath is one woman who is proud to have taken advantage of several husbands. She has learned how to “work the system” in a manner that equates wifehood to a career. Reigning in one husband after another with sex as her greatest asset, she takes pride in dominating the men who are legally permitted to dominate her.
In her Prologue, the Wife discusses at great length her experience as a wife while (often improperly) citing both ancient Biblical and misogynistic texts as they relate to the institution of marriage. She is familiar with the church's arguments against women and seeks to counter them, rejecting the masculine tradition of womanhood as something created by bitter, impotent old men. She presents her own “glossed” versions of the texts, mimicking previous exegetes who interpreted scripture for their own personal benefit. Indeed, much of the Wife's rhetoric serves to dispute that which is written in the misogynistic book her fifth husband, Jankyn, carries around with him. This “book of wicked wives,” called Valerie and Theofraste, contained stories of the most deceitful wives in history: Eve, who brought all of mankind into sin by eating the apple in the Garden of Eden; Delilah, who betrayed Samson; Clytemnestra, who murdered Agamemnon, and others (Chaucer, 328-329). When she finally tears pages from Jankyn's book and punches him in the face, she is repaid with a blow to the head that leaves her deaf in one ear. Her hearing loss is caused, ironically, by her one silent action, her attempt to destroy the written tradition that has constructed her. As Elaine Tuttle Hansen remarks, “The Wife's mutilation serves as a climactic symbol of the simultaneously dumbing and deafening effect of the dominant discourse and the social structure it enforces.”
The Wife attempts to use literature to argue against the male dominance she is subject to, but (as evidenced by her failure to maintain her train of thought as well as her incorrect citations) she fails to bring a clear, feminist argument to the table. She continually affirms the misogynist rhetoric she debates. This is because the voice of the tale is unmistakably masculine, a product of the male author's pen and also of a world where language for women hardly existed. Writing by women was rare in Chaucer's era, and he had to create a language to use for his Wife. It is to be expected that her language should be as masculine as the Miller's, because her words are being constructed by a man. Chaucer's weakness – that he is not female – haunts him as he is touted as a misogynist for his creation of the head-strong Wife of Bath. It is the Wife, after all, who asks, “Who painted the lion?” This is a reminder to the reader that this tale was not created by a woman, after all, and that she is constructed in a masculine world with masculine language whether she likes it or not. At best, her voice serves as a parody of man, both challenging and emulating male authority. Since feminist historians and literary critics are faced with the problem of women's absence in written tradition, they often turn to the Wife as a rare instance of woman as agent, speaker and reader (Hansen). The Wife, although a fictional character who's reality is completely debatable, offers a rare glimpse into Medieval domestic life. Chaucer attempts to bring the history of womens' experiences to the table with the creation of one character who both embraces and rejects the amenities of her gender. While he may desire to portray the Wife as a rightly independent being, he fails to escape the prison of masculine language in which she is constructed. Instead, he ushers in a “feminine monstrosity who is the product of the patriarchal authority she ineffectively and only superficially rebels against” (Hansen).
Much of the rhetoric that the Wife both references and debates stems from ancient anti-feminist works by philosophers such as Aristotle, Galen and St. Thomas Aquinas. Aristotle assumed that male domination was the rule in all natural species. Galen determined that women were ruled by cold and wet qualities, while men were ruled by the hot and the dry. Since heat is nature's primary instrument, he concluded that “within mankind the man is more perfect than the woman.” Aquinas argued that “the power of rational discernment is by nature stronger in man” than in woman, who is “by nature of lower capacity and quality than man." The Wife embodies all of the stock traits which anti-feminist authors and preachers such as Robert Rypon, William Lichfield, John Bromyard and Nicholas Bozon habitually ascribed to women: their lustfulness and nagging, their vanity, their garrulousness and their disobedience (Rigby). It must be noted that all of these attributes are seen as specifically female characteristics, meaning that all women are eventually judged by their gender, not their individual nature.
Through the Wife, Chaucer questions the misogynistic beliefs of the society in which he lives. She argues that she should be permitted to marry as many husbands as she chooses, because God permitted Solomon to have seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines (Chaucer, 312). In the Old Testament, God does allow Solomon and others to take multiple wives, but it was for the purpose of reproduction and filling the earth. The Wife takes the advice, “Be fruitful and multiply” to heart. Tropologically, this statement meant that people should multiply their virtues; allegorically, it meant that they should multiply the congregation of those faithful to God. The Wife's interpretation is literal, and she uses it to justify her career as a wife (Rigby). She also says that, while she knows Jesus only approves of marrying once, her dear apostle (to whom she has paid her indulgences) forgives her and recommends she remarry again rather than “burn within” (Chaucer, 312). She sarcastically takes the church official's word over God's because it allows her to sustain herself. As a married woman, she has financial security and sexual control over her husband. The Wife refers to Saint Paul's prescription of “marital debt” between husband and wife eight times throughout her Prologue. She relies heavily on the fact that she can control her husband with her sex. This is also why she praises those who are capable of remaining chaste, but denounces the thought of herself doing so. She uses the metaphor of the need for wooden vessels as well as golden and silver vessels in a lord's household (Chaucer, 314). In other words, impure women can serve God in other ways; not all women are to be virgins. After all, she argues, without sex there would be no virgins in the first place.
Above all, as her Tale exhibits, the Wife desires complete sovereignty over her husband. She claims that since man is the most reasonable of the two sexes, he also must be most suffrable. This relates to Biblical tradition which claims that since Eve was so easily tempted to eat the apple, she must be the most unreasonable of the sexes. However, a closer look at an Anglo-Saxon version of Genesis proves that reason had little to do with Eve's decision to stray from God's word. In “Genesis A” of the Junius XI manuscript, the devil tempts Eve into coercing Adam into eating from the Tree of Life by saying, “Thou mayest rule the heart of Adam” (Killings). Eve ultimately gives in to the devil because she desires to have complete sovereignty over her husband, just as the Wife of Bath desires. Because holy scripture calls for a man to have dominion over his wife, woman is bound to desire equality at some point or another.
Chaucer's tale is a satire on the oldest story told: the Fall of Man wrought by woman's weakness. However, woman deserves pity when one realizes she is only weak because she desires to reign in her husband's heart just as he reigns in her's. Furthermore, the Fall prescribed eternal suffering for women, a tradition that Christians have perpetuated since. Even when medical techniques were discovered in the 19th century to relieve the pain of suffering of women from childbearing, many Christian clergy were reluctant to support the efforts (Cullinan). Scripture makes it very clear that the pains of childbirth and subjugation of women unto men are both punishments for sin, period. However, as Chaucer's Pardoner claims, sin came to earth through a single man (Rigby). Chaucer recognizes that Eve is not alone in her sin, and that Adam, too, is responsible.
Chaucer shows that the goodness of feminine nature is contained even in the anti-feminist account of women. He superimposes the Wife's own point of view over a tradition of misogyny, proving that not even the history of anti-feminist ideas can destroy personal experience. His audience likely interpreted the Prologue and Tale as highly comedic, as the Wife substantiates accusations of garrulity, lust and disobedience while simultaneously refuting them. According to S.H. Rigby, “It is regrettable to have to go through the Wife of Bath's arguments in order to show why, in Medieval terms, they are inadequate, but the number of scholars who now believe that we are supposed to find the Wife's case convincing requires us to perform this task.” Chaucer was highly aware of the patriarchal constraints upon Medieval women. His piece should be read as a feminist work that was well ahead of its time. After all, it is not uncommon for Chaucer to be referred to as the father of modern literature.
References
Butler, Sara. “Runaway Wives: Husband Desertion in Medieval England.” Journal of Social History 40.2 (2006): 337-359.
Chaucer, Geoffrey. “The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale.” Canterbury Tales. New York: Covici Friede Inc., 1934. 311-344.
Cullinan, Colleen Carpenter. “In Pain and Sorrow: Childbirth, Incarnation, and the Suffering of Women.” Cross Currents 58.1 (2008): 95-107.
Hansen, Elaine Tuttle. "The Wife of Bath and the Mark of Adam." Women's Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal 15.4 (1988): 399-416.
Killings, Douglas B., ed. “Genesis A.” Codex Junius XI. Project Gutenberg, 1996.
Nelson, Janet L. “Gender, Memory and Social Power.” Gender and History 12.3 (2000) 722-735.
Rigby, S. H. “Misogynist versus Feminist Chaucer.” Chaucer in Context: Society, Allegory and Gender. Manchester University Press, 1996. 116-163. Rpt. in Literature Criticism from 1400 to 1800. Ed. Lawrence J. Trudeau. Vol. 56. Detroit: Gale Group, 2000. 116-163. Literature Resource Center. Gale. Ohio University. 28 Oct. 2009.
Treharne, Elaine. “The Stereotype Confirmed? Chaucer's Wife of Bath.” Writing Gender and Genre in Medieval Literature: Approaches to Old and Middle English Texts. Ed. Elaine Treharne Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2002. 93-115. Rpt. in Poetry Criticism. Ed. Lawrence J. Trudeau. Vol. 58. Detroit: Gale, 2005. 93-115. Literature Resource Center. Gale. Ohio University. 28 Oct. 2009.
Life for the common Medieval women was challenging. Blamed for the Fall of Man, she was destined to suffer. She was the property of her husband and no more than a vessel for transmitting seed from one generation of males to the next. Judith Bennet claims that “Medieval people thought of conjugality as a hierarchy headed by a husband who not only controlled his wife's financial assets and public behavior, but also freely enforced his will through physical violence” (qtd. Butler). In fact, occasional violence was acceptable and expected in marriage. While Benedictine orders recommending marriage over sexual deviance protected many single women from rape and premarital assault, it confined others to a life of male domination and silence. Many women married for financial security and to have some level of political power through their husbands. Also, a married woman was considered a better-governed woman, thus she could satisfy her community by fulfilling a Christian duty (Nelson).
Despite the brutal conditions women were often exposed to in their marriages, many women fought to hold onto their unions even when their husbands desired an annulment. Although the church gave husbands divine power over their wives, the courts still somewhat upheld marriages as an equal union. Women seeking separation from their husbands could successfully walk away with half of the couple's assets. Because women discovered this ally, they began taking advantage of their husbands just as they had been taken advantage of for years. Women found a loophole through which they could claim cruelty, unfaithfulness or impotence of their husbands, and the courts would reward them for their suffering (Butler). Chaucer's Wife of Bath is one woman who is proud to have taken advantage of several husbands. She has learned how to “work the system” in a manner that equates wifehood to a career. Reigning in one husband after another with sex as her greatest asset, she takes pride in dominating the men who are legally permitted to dominate her.
In her Prologue, the Wife discusses at great length her experience as a wife while (often improperly) citing both ancient Biblical and misogynistic texts as they relate to the institution of marriage. She is familiar with the church's arguments against women and seeks to counter them, rejecting the masculine tradition of womanhood as something created by bitter, impotent old men. She presents her own “glossed” versions of the texts, mimicking previous exegetes who interpreted scripture for their own personal benefit. Indeed, much of the Wife's rhetoric serves to dispute that which is written in the misogynistic book her fifth husband, Jankyn, carries around with him. This “book of wicked wives,” called Valerie and Theofraste, contained stories of the most deceitful wives in history: Eve, who brought all of mankind into sin by eating the apple in the Garden of Eden; Delilah, who betrayed Samson; Clytemnestra, who murdered Agamemnon, and others (Chaucer, 328-329). When she finally tears pages from Jankyn's book and punches him in the face, she is repaid with a blow to the head that leaves her deaf in one ear. Her hearing loss is caused, ironically, by her one silent action, her attempt to destroy the written tradition that has constructed her. As Elaine Tuttle Hansen remarks, “The Wife's mutilation serves as a climactic symbol of the simultaneously dumbing and deafening effect of the dominant discourse and the social structure it enforces.”
The Wife attempts to use literature to argue against the male dominance she is subject to, but (as evidenced by her failure to maintain her train of thought as well as her incorrect citations) she fails to bring a clear, feminist argument to the table. She continually affirms the misogynist rhetoric she debates. This is because the voice of the tale is unmistakably masculine, a product of the male author's pen and also of a world where language for women hardly existed. Writing by women was rare in Chaucer's era, and he had to create a language to use for his Wife. It is to be expected that her language should be as masculine as the Miller's, because her words are being constructed by a man. Chaucer's weakness – that he is not female – haunts him as he is touted as a misogynist for his creation of the head-strong Wife of Bath. It is the Wife, after all, who asks, “Who painted the lion?” This is a reminder to the reader that this tale was not created by a woman, after all, and that she is constructed in a masculine world with masculine language whether she likes it or not. At best, her voice serves as a parody of man, both challenging and emulating male authority. Since feminist historians and literary critics are faced with the problem of women's absence in written tradition, they often turn to the Wife as a rare instance of woman as agent, speaker and reader (Hansen). The Wife, although a fictional character who's reality is completely debatable, offers a rare glimpse into Medieval domestic life. Chaucer attempts to bring the history of womens' experiences to the table with the creation of one character who both embraces and rejects the amenities of her gender. While he may desire to portray the Wife as a rightly independent being, he fails to escape the prison of masculine language in which she is constructed. Instead, he ushers in a “feminine monstrosity who is the product of the patriarchal authority she ineffectively and only superficially rebels against” (Hansen).
Much of the rhetoric that the Wife both references and debates stems from ancient anti-feminist works by philosophers such as Aristotle, Galen and St. Thomas Aquinas. Aristotle assumed that male domination was the rule in all natural species. Galen determined that women were ruled by cold and wet qualities, while men were ruled by the hot and the dry. Since heat is nature's primary instrument, he concluded that “within mankind the man is more perfect than the woman.” Aquinas argued that “the power of rational discernment is by nature stronger in man” than in woman, who is “by nature of lower capacity and quality than man." The Wife embodies all of the stock traits which anti-feminist authors and preachers such as Robert Rypon, William Lichfield, John Bromyard and Nicholas Bozon habitually ascribed to women: their lustfulness and nagging, their vanity, their garrulousness and their disobedience (Rigby). It must be noted that all of these attributes are seen as specifically female characteristics, meaning that all women are eventually judged by their gender, not their individual nature.
Through the Wife, Chaucer questions the misogynistic beliefs of the society in which he lives. She argues that she should be permitted to marry as many husbands as she chooses, because God permitted Solomon to have seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines (Chaucer, 312). In the Old Testament, God does allow Solomon and others to take multiple wives, but it was for the purpose of reproduction and filling the earth. The Wife takes the advice, “Be fruitful and multiply” to heart. Tropologically, this statement meant that people should multiply their virtues; allegorically, it meant that they should multiply the congregation of those faithful to God. The Wife's interpretation is literal, and she uses it to justify her career as a wife (Rigby). She also says that, while she knows Jesus only approves of marrying once, her dear apostle (to whom she has paid her indulgences) forgives her and recommends she remarry again rather than “burn within” (Chaucer, 312). She sarcastically takes the church official's word over God's because it allows her to sustain herself. As a married woman, she has financial security and sexual control over her husband. The Wife refers to Saint Paul's prescription of “marital debt” between husband and wife eight times throughout her Prologue. She relies heavily on the fact that she can control her husband with her sex. This is also why she praises those who are capable of remaining chaste, but denounces the thought of herself doing so. She uses the metaphor of the need for wooden vessels as well as golden and silver vessels in a lord's household (Chaucer, 314). In other words, impure women can serve God in other ways; not all women are to be virgins. After all, she argues, without sex there would be no virgins in the first place.
Above all, as her Tale exhibits, the Wife desires complete sovereignty over her husband. She claims that since man is the most reasonable of the two sexes, he also must be most suffrable. This relates to Biblical tradition which claims that since Eve was so easily tempted to eat the apple, she must be the most unreasonable of the sexes. However, a closer look at an Anglo-Saxon version of Genesis proves that reason had little to do with Eve's decision to stray from God's word. In “Genesis A” of the Junius XI manuscript, the devil tempts Eve into coercing Adam into eating from the Tree of Life by saying, “Thou mayest rule the heart of Adam” (Killings). Eve ultimately gives in to the devil because she desires to have complete sovereignty over her husband, just as the Wife of Bath desires. Because holy scripture calls for a man to have dominion over his wife, woman is bound to desire equality at some point or another.
Chaucer's tale is a satire on the oldest story told: the Fall of Man wrought by woman's weakness. However, woman deserves pity when one realizes she is only weak because she desires to reign in her husband's heart just as he reigns in her's. Furthermore, the Fall prescribed eternal suffering for women, a tradition that Christians have perpetuated since. Even when medical techniques were discovered in the 19th century to relieve the pain of suffering of women from childbearing, many Christian clergy were reluctant to support the efforts (Cullinan). Scripture makes it very clear that the pains of childbirth and subjugation of women unto men are both punishments for sin, period. However, as Chaucer's Pardoner claims, sin came to earth through a single man (Rigby). Chaucer recognizes that Eve is not alone in her sin, and that Adam, too, is responsible.
Chaucer shows that the goodness of feminine nature is contained even in the anti-feminist account of women. He superimposes the Wife's own point of view over a tradition of misogyny, proving that not even the history of anti-feminist ideas can destroy personal experience. His audience likely interpreted the Prologue and Tale as highly comedic, as the Wife substantiates accusations of garrulity, lust and disobedience while simultaneously refuting them. According to S.H. Rigby, “It is regrettable to have to go through the Wife of Bath's arguments in order to show why, in Medieval terms, they are inadequate, but the number of scholars who now believe that we are supposed to find the Wife's case convincing requires us to perform this task.” Chaucer was highly aware of the patriarchal constraints upon Medieval women. His piece should be read as a feminist work that was well ahead of its time. After all, it is not uncommon for Chaucer to be referred to as the father of modern literature.
References
Butler, Sara. “Runaway Wives: Husband Desertion in Medieval England.” Journal of Social History 40.2 (2006): 337-359.
Chaucer, Geoffrey. “The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale.” Canterbury Tales. New York: Covici Friede Inc., 1934. 311-344.
Cullinan, Colleen Carpenter. “In Pain and Sorrow: Childbirth, Incarnation, and the Suffering of Women.” Cross Currents 58.1 (2008): 95-107.
Hansen, Elaine Tuttle. "The Wife of Bath and the Mark of Adam." Women's Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal 15.4 (1988): 399-416.
Killings, Douglas B., ed. “Genesis A.” Codex Junius XI. Project Gutenberg, 1996.
Nelson, Janet L. “Gender, Memory and Social Power.” Gender and History 12.3 (2000) 722-735.
Rigby, S. H. “Misogynist versus Feminist Chaucer.” Chaucer in Context: Society, Allegory and Gender. Manchester University Press, 1996. 116-163. Rpt. in Literature Criticism from 1400 to 1800. Ed. Lawrence J. Trudeau. Vol. 56. Detroit: Gale Group, 2000. 116-163. Literature Resource Center. Gale. Ohio University. 28 Oct. 2009
Treharne, Elaine. “The Stereotype Confirmed? Chaucer's Wife of Bath.” Writing Gender and Genre in Medieval Literature: Approaches to Old and Middle English Texts. Ed. Elaine Treharne Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2002. 93-115. Rpt. in Poetry Criticism. Ed. Lawrence J. Trudeau. Vol. 58. Detroit: Gale, 2005. 93-115. Literature Resource Center. Gale. Ohio University. 28 Oct. 2009
Two Sides of the Same Coin: Opposing Characters in Superbad
There comes a time when every boy must become a man. In Superbad, Judd Apatow's 2007 hit comedy film directed by Greg Mottola, two socially inept teenage boys attempt to do just that, in one dramatic, panic-driven evening. The film was written by Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg, who reportedly drafted the script while they were between the ages of thirteen and fifteen years old. Its main characters, two polar opposite peas in a pod, are named after the writers themselves. Seth (Jonah Hill) and Evan (Michael Cera) are ridiculously dependent upon each other's friendship. They've been inseparable for many years, but they've recently gotten into different colleges, and thus have to contemplate life apart from one another. It is clear early on in the film that this unhealthy dependence upon one another must be broken for either boy to mature. This essay is an attempt to identify the film's binary opposition of Seth and Evan's characters. Seth is a vulgar, sex-obsessed misogynist, while Evan is a responsible, timid, undersexed feminist. While the two leading males in this film are completely characteristically opposite, their combined traits help create a picture of any typical modern pubescent boy making the transition to manhood.
Much can be learned about the main characters by paying attention to the language they use. When we first meet Seth, he is on the phone with Evan, seriously contemplating whether or not to subscribe to the “Vag-tastic Voyage” Internet porn site. Because the site comes with free access to a variety of other porn sites, he finds it most appealing. “That's disgusting! You're like an animal,” Evan tells him, recommending he subscribe to a site with better production value and an ambiguous name like “Perfect Ten.” Seth rejects this advice, saying that sites like that “don't actually show penis going into the vagina.” “You ever see a vagina by itself?” he asks. “Not for me.” Seth is so obsessed with sex that his language is covered in it. He emasculates his best male friends with sexual remarks such as, “Don't be such a vagine!” or by calling them names like “dick-mouth.”
Seth's regard for women is determined when he claims how proud he is for getting into a community college, where the “girls are half as smart, thus twice as likely to fellat[io]” him. He recommends that Evan “bang” his crush object, Becca, and then leave her, saying that, “She looks like she could take a dick.” This is when we see the first moral differences between the two male characters. Evan is offended by Seth's crudeness towards the girl he likes. He is more concerned with making Becca his girlfriend, while Seth is only concerned with having enough sex before college to be in control of his sexuality. As a matter of fact, Evan often times seems terrified of sex. He complains to Seth about his embarrassment at having to hide his erections, saying that the world he one day wants to live in is a world where girls desire to see “boners.” This sensitivity becomes even more prevalent as we see Evan prove to be the feminist of the duo. When the boys approach a woman who has undergone a breast reduction, Seth says that “making your tits smaller is like slapping God against the face for giving you a gorgeous gift.” Evan argues that the poor woman had back problems, and that she looks better than ever now that she can jog comfortably.
The boys' differing approaches to sex are best exhibited in their interactions with the leading females in the film. Seth uses humor to communicate with the ladies. When he is paired with Jules in Home Economics class, he makes crude sexual gestures behind her back so that his friends can see. He is shameless, because later, he makes a crude sexual gesture to her face. When she asks him to buy the alcohol for her party that night, she tells him if he scratches her back, she will scratch his. “Funny thing is, Jules,” he says, “Is that my back is located on my cock!” Seth uses humor to try to overcome his low self-esteem, which stems from the fact that he is a chubby, unattractive pubescent male. He is convinced that sexual experience will help him make up for his shortcomings. Evan is just as awkward with women, but in a different way. When Becca catches him staring at her breasts in class, he quickly diverts his gaze. He is odd, quirky and uncomfortable in every interaction the two share. He tries particularly hard to be masculine by, for example, offering to purchase Becca's Goldslick vodka for the evening's party. After this romantic gesture, we are reminded of his fear of sex when, while standing in the hallway at school, he is knocked into Becca, and his hand inadvertently touches her breast. He apologies profusely and is utterly embarrassed.
Of course, it is Seth who comes up with the master plan for the evening, one that will assuredly culminate with sex for both him and Evan. Seth assumes that since he has been put in charge of bringing the alcohol, he and Evan can make sure Jules and Becca get drunk enough to sleep with them. “Fucking is an actual possibility,” Seth enthusiastically tells Evan. “You know how girls say, 'Oh, I was so drunk, I shouldn't have fucked that guy!'? We could be that mistake!” Seth avoids thinking that Jules might be using him for alcohol, and jumps right to the conclusion that “she wants [his] dick in or around her mouth.”
Seth's plan begins crumbling around him before it has a chance to get off the ground. First of all, his plan requires that he and Evan work together, but the tale's underlying theme – boys finding independence which will lead them to manhood – interferes. When Seth first learns about Jules' party, and again, when Jules asks Seth if he can buy alcohol for everyone, he runs straight to Evan to tell him the news. It is almost as if Seth can't make a single decision without running it past his good friend's voice of reason first. Evan's reliable voice starts to fade, however, as the boys begin growing apart. Evan's first move towards independence comes just after Seth opens up to him, confessing his traumatizing “Ghostbusters lunch box dick treasure chest” tale. Seth confides in his best friend about how he was subjected to therapy for his penis-drawing obsession, but Evan simply states, “That's super-gay,” and walks away. For the first time in their relationship, Seth feels truly abandoned.
Seth will continue to feel abandoned by Evan throughout the night, as his sex-driven alcohol chase leads them into one bad situation after another. When a fight breaks out at a house party where they end up, Evan wants to bail. “I don't wanna lose my balls!” he exclaims. “I'm just gonna tell Becca how I feel. I'm not gonna get her drunk to have sex with me. I respect her. I'm not gonna put that kind of unfair pressure on her.” Seth, who has clearly lost sight of reason, exclaims that he would “kill for pussy, no questions asked.” There is absolutely nothing brotherly or fraternal about this remark. We already know Seth has no real respect for women, and now, he has admitted to have no respect for anything other than sex.
At the same house party, Seth's decision to place sex higher than anything else works against him. As he walks through the living room, surrounded by young women grinding up against men on the dance floor, the camera pans back and forth between several girls' breasts and a bucket of beer sitting at the end of the room. Eventually, Seth's gaze hones in on one particular girl who chooses to dance with him. The girl is sexy and has no qualms grinding up against Seth. This is very uncharacteristic for Seth, as this is the first time we've actually seen him “get some” in the film. It is no surprise that this reward is only to humiliate him. When another male party-goer notices a red stain on Seth's leg, he realizes that the girl leaked menstrual blood onto his pants. This plot device used to humiliate Seth is verified when the girl actually screams “You humiliated me!” at him. It is humorous that Seth is so steadfast to his plan until he is sidetracked by sex. It is ironic that he is, in turn, humiliated for the one sex act he is able to achieve. Furthermore, Seth has been humiliated by the reality of a woman's sexuality. His desire to avoid such feminine characteristics garners such a humiliation.
Despite the misogynist tones that Seth brings to the tale, the portrayal of women in Superbad is realistic. Sideline characters, like the liquor store clerk, are average women. She happens to be a very intelligent woman who is upset she has to deal with simple-minded police officers because she has to take a veterinary exam the next day. Officer Slater (Bill Hader) discusses his ex- and current wife, the former a whore and the latter a sweetheart. Superbad includes all types of females. Just as it juxtaposes the characters of Seth and Evan against one another, the two leading females in the cast are similarly positioned. Jules and Becca can both be said to possess opposite characteristics that can inherently be found in any modern blossoming woman.
Jules is the cool girl in school. She's hosting the big graduation party, and Seth just knows he's going to be able to get her drunk enough to sleep with him. However, Jules isn't the typical drunk party girl that Seth expects her to be. As a matter of fact, she doesn't drink at all. Instead, she just wants her guests to have a nice time. When Seth tries to make a move and finds out his hopes have been dashed, he becomes very emotional and starts crying. “This is my last chance to make you my girlfriend,” he says. “You'd never get with me while you're sober.” Jules manages to tell Seth she's sorry, but that she's flattered, before he passes out and busts her in the face.
Becca, much to Evan's dismay, is the typical drunk party girl. When he arrives at Jules' party, she is already “smashed,” and has admitted that she wants to “fully blow” Evan. “Isn't that unethical?” Evan asks Becca's friend. “Not if you're drunk, too,” she replies. So, reluctantly, Evan locks himself in the bathroom in an attempt to get himself drunk enough to contend with Becca. However, he can't get past thinking that taking advantage of a drunk girl is wrong. Even when horny, drunk Becca tries to encourage Evan to drink some more, he toasts, “To people respecting women!” Later, when he rejects Becca's sloppy advances in the bedroom, she complains, “I don't understand why you have to be such a little bitch about it.” Becca is representative of today's liberated young woman, who finds comfort in committing acts of sexual exploitation while intoxicated. She justifies Seth's perception of women, while Jules defies it.
After Seth is rejected by Jules and Evan survives his adventure with Becca, the cops bust the party. Seth finds his intoxicated friend passed out on the living room couch, so he picks him up and carries him out the door. “He's my best friend!” he exclaims to fellow party-goers on his way out. Once out on the street, Evan wakes up to find himself being cradled in Seth's arms. In a true throwback to their past together, and to prove that nothing really changed on this wild night, they decide to have a sleepover at Evan's house, complete with Pizza Bagels. While bundled up in side-by-side sleeping bags, Seth tells Evan, “I was being a dick,” and confesses his love to him. “I'm not even embarrassed to say it,” he says. The boys hold each other, whispering “I love yous” until they fall asleep. The next “Morning After” scene mimics a typical heterosexual scene after a one-night stand. Seth and Evan both wake up and share an uncomfortable glance. Seth scrounges for his shoes and says he should get moving. “You don't have to rush out like that,” Evan tells him. They make plans to go to the mall together. On the way out of the room, to eliminate any remaining awkwardness, Seth retreats to his tried-and-true character, exclaiming, “Cool, so, uh, your mom's got huge tits!”
At the mall, the boys surprisingly run into Jules and Becca. Predictably, Becca claims she doesn't “remember much,” but thanks Evan for being a “nice guy about it all.” Seth exchanges an apology, too, telling Jules he “acted like a fucking idiot” and that she doesn't “deserve that.” The couples then decide to divide paths, Seth going with Jules to buy cover-up and Evan going with Becca to buy comforters. The irony lies in the fact that each boy has selected a girl similar to his best friend as a mate. As far as binary oppositions go, Jules is Seth's Evan and Becca is Evan's Seth. The boys share one final awkward moment, when they agree to call each other later. As Curtis Mayfield's “P.S. I Love You” plays through the scene, Jules and Seth head down the escalator. Seth gazes lovingly at Evan as he rides down the stairwell. Seth has learned he must divorce himself from his best friend if he is ever to find his own sexual independence. Evan seems to already understand this, and is now free to mature at his own pace without Seth's juvenile antics to hold him back. He's also now had his first semi-sexual experience and doesn't possess the same fear of females as he did before.
The binary opposition of Seth and Evan's characters in Superbad helps us understand the opposing forces within every modern pubescent male. He receives mixed signals from the females he attempts to pursue. Today, women expect a man to be both passive and aggressive, sensitive yet in control, a sex machine, but not a sexual predator. Seth interpreted these messages in the most misogynistic manner possible. Evan avoided the messages altogether, holding back his own sexual urges out of an extreme respect for women. In reality, most young men are a combination of these traits. The sub-story of Officers Micheals (Rogen) and Slater is a cautionary tale. If Seth and Evan don't mature soon, they could potentially emerge into similar overgrown boys.
Much can be learned about the main characters by paying attention to the language they use. When we first meet Seth, he is on the phone with Evan, seriously contemplating whether or not to subscribe to the “Vag-tastic Voyage” Internet porn site. Because the site comes with free access to a variety of other porn sites, he finds it most appealing. “That's disgusting! You're like an animal,” Evan tells him, recommending he subscribe to a site with better production value and an ambiguous name like “Perfect Ten.” Seth rejects this advice, saying that sites like that “don't actually show penis going into the vagina.” “You ever see a vagina by itself?” he asks. “Not for me.” Seth is so obsessed with sex that his language is covered in it. He emasculates his best male friends with sexual remarks such as, “Don't be such a vagine!” or by calling them names like “dick-mouth.”
Seth's regard for women is determined when he claims how proud he is for getting into a community college, where the “girls are half as smart, thus twice as likely to fellat[io]” him. He recommends that Evan “bang” his crush object, Becca, and then leave her, saying that, “She looks like she could take a dick.” This is when we see the first moral differences between the two male characters. Evan is offended by Seth's crudeness towards the girl he likes. He is more concerned with making Becca his girlfriend, while Seth is only concerned with having enough sex before college to be in control of his sexuality. As a matter of fact, Evan often times seems terrified of sex. He complains to Seth about his embarrassment at having to hide his erections, saying that the world he one day wants to live in is a world where girls desire to see “boners.” This sensitivity becomes even more prevalent as we see Evan prove to be the feminist of the duo. When the boys approach a woman who has undergone a breast reduction, Seth says that “making your tits smaller is like slapping God against the face for giving you a gorgeous gift.” Evan argues that the poor woman had back problems, and that she looks better than ever now that she can jog comfortably.
The boys' differing approaches to sex are best exhibited in their interactions with the leading females in the film. Seth uses humor to communicate with the ladies. When he is paired with Jules in Home Economics class, he makes crude sexual gestures behind her back so that his friends can see. He is shameless, because later, he makes a crude sexual gesture to her face. When she asks him to buy the alcohol for her party that night, she tells him if he scratches her back, she will scratch his. “Funny thing is, Jules,” he says, “Is that my back is located on my cock!” Seth uses humor to try to overcome his low self-esteem, which stems from the fact that he is a chubby, unattractive pubescent male. He is convinced that sexual experience will help him make up for his shortcomings. Evan is just as awkward with women, but in a different way. When Becca catches him staring at her breasts in class, he quickly diverts his gaze. He is odd, quirky and uncomfortable in every interaction the two share. He tries particularly hard to be masculine by, for example, offering to purchase Becca's Goldslick vodka for the evening's party. After this romantic gesture, we are reminded of his fear of sex when, while standing in the hallway at school, he is knocked into Becca, and his hand inadvertently touches her breast. He apologies profusely and is utterly embarrassed.
Of course, it is Seth who comes up with the master plan for the evening, one that will assuredly culminate with sex for both him and Evan. Seth assumes that since he has been put in charge of bringing the alcohol, he and Evan can make sure Jules and Becca get drunk enough to sleep with them. “Fucking is an actual possibility,” Seth enthusiastically tells Evan. “You know how girls say, 'Oh, I was so drunk, I shouldn't have fucked that guy!'? We could be that mistake!” Seth avoids thinking that Jules might be using him for alcohol, and jumps right to the conclusion that “she wants [his] dick in or around her mouth.”
Seth's plan begins crumbling around him before it has a chance to get off the ground. First of all, his plan requires that he and Evan work together, but the tale's underlying theme – boys finding independence which will lead them to manhood – interferes. When Seth first learns about Jules' party, and again, when Jules asks Seth if he can buy alcohol for everyone, he runs straight to Evan to tell him the news. It is almost as if Seth can't make a single decision without running it past his good friend's voice of reason first. Evan's reliable voice starts to fade, however, as the boys begin growing apart. Evan's first move towards independence comes just after Seth opens up to him, confessing his traumatizing “Ghostbusters lunch box dick treasure chest” tale. Seth confides in his best friend about how he was subjected to therapy for his penis-drawing obsession, but Evan simply states, “That's super-gay,” and walks away. For the first time in their relationship, Seth feels truly abandoned.
Seth will continue to feel abandoned by Evan throughout the night, as his sex-driven alcohol chase leads them into one bad situation after another. When a fight breaks out at a house party where they end up, Evan wants to bail. “I don't wanna lose my balls!” he exclaims. “I'm just gonna tell Becca how I feel. I'm not gonna get her drunk to have sex with me. I respect her. I'm not gonna put that kind of unfair pressure on her.” Seth, who has clearly lost sight of reason, exclaims that he would “kill for pussy, no questions asked.” There is absolutely nothing brotherly or fraternal about this remark. We already know Seth has no real respect for women, and now, he has admitted to have no respect for anything other than sex.
At the same house party, Seth's decision to place sex higher than anything else works against him. As he walks through the living room, surrounded by young women grinding up against men on the dance floor, the camera pans back and forth between several girls' breasts and a bucket of beer sitting at the end of the room. Eventually, Seth's gaze hones in on one particular girl who chooses to dance with him. The girl is sexy and has no qualms grinding up against Seth. This is very uncharacteristic for Seth, as this is the first time we've actually seen him “get some” in the film. It is no surprise that this reward is only to humiliate him. When another male party-goer notices a red stain on Seth's leg, he realizes that the girl leaked menstrual blood onto his pants. This plot device used to humiliate Seth is verified when the girl actually screams “You humiliated me!” at him. It is humorous that Seth is so steadfast to his plan until he is sidetracked by sex. It is ironic that he is, in turn, humiliated for the one sex act he is able to achieve. Furthermore, Seth has been humiliated by the reality of a woman's sexuality. His desire to avoid such feminine characteristics garners such a humiliation.
Despite the misogynist tones that Seth brings to the tale, the portrayal of women in Superbad is realistic. Sideline characters, like the liquor store clerk, are average women. She happens to be a very intelligent woman who is upset she has to deal with simple-minded police officers because she has to take a veterinary exam the next day. Officer Slater (Bill Hader) discusses his ex- and current wife, the former a whore and the latter a sweetheart. Superbad includes all types of females. Just as it juxtaposes the characters of Seth and Evan against one another, the two leading females in the cast are similarly positioned. Jules and Becca can both be said to possess opposite characteristics that can inherently be found in any modern blossoming woman.
Jules is the cool girl in school. She's hosting the big graduation party, and Seth just knows he's going to be able to get her drunk enough to sleep with him. However, Jules isn't the typical drunk party girl that Seth expects her to be. As a matter of fact, she doesn't drink at all. Instead, she just wants her guests to have a nice time. When Seth tries to make a move and finds out his hopes have been dashed, he becomes very emotional and starts crying. “This is my last chance to make you my girlfriend,” he says. “You'd never get with me while you're sober.” Jules manages to tell Seth she's sorry, but that she's flattered, before he passes out and busts her in the face.
Becca, much to Evan's dismay, is the typical drunk party girl. When he arrives at Jules' party, she is already “smashed,” and has admitted that she wants to “fully blow” Evan. “Isn't that unethical?” Evan asks Becca's friend. “Not if you're drunk, too,” she replies. So, reluctantly, Evan locks himself in the bathroom in an attempt to get himself drunk enough to contend with Becca. However, he can't get past thinking that taking advantage of a drunk girl is wrong. Even when horny, drunk Becca tries to encourage Evan to drink some more, he toasts, “To people respecting women!” Later, when he rejects Becca's sloppy advances in the bedroom, she complains, “I don't understand why you have to be such a little bitch about it.” Becca is representative of today's liberated young woman, who finds comfort in committing acts of sexual exploitation while intoxicated. She justifies Seth's perception of women, while Jules defies it.
After Seth is rejected by Jules and Evan survives his adventure with Becca, the cops bust the party. Seth finds his intoxicated friend passed out on the living room couch, so he picks him up and carries him out the door. “He's my best friend!” he exclaims to fellow party-goers on his way out. Once out on the street, Evan wakes up to find himself being cradled in Seth's arms. In a true throwback to their past together, and to prove that nothing really changed on this wild night, they decide to have a sleepover at Evan's house, complete with Pizza Bagels. While bundled up in side-by-side sleeping bags, Seth tells Evan, “I was being a dick,” and confesses his love to him. “I'm not even embarrassed to say it,” he says. The boys hold each other, whispering “I love yous” until they fall asleep. The next “Morning After” scene mimics a typical heterosexual scene after a one-night stand. Seth and Evan both wake up and share an uncomfortable glance. Seth scrounges for his shoes and says he should get moving. “You don't have to rush out like that,” Evan tells him. They make plans to go to the mall together. On the way out of the room, to eliminate any remaining awkwardness, Seth retreats to his tried-and-true character, exclaiming, “Cool, so, uh, your mom's got huge tits!”
At the mall, the boys surprisingly run into Jules and Becca. Predictably, Becca claims she doesn't “remember much,” but thanks Evan for being a “nice guy about it all.” Seth exchanges an apology, too, telling Jules he “acted like a fucking idiot” and that she doesn't “deserve that.” The couples then decide to divide paths, Seth going with Jules to buy cover-up and Evan going with Becca to buy comforters. The irony lies in the fact that each boy has selected a girl similar to his best friend as a mate. As far as binary oppositions go, Jules is Seth's Evan and Becca is Evan's Seth. The boys share one final awkward moment, when they agree to call each other later. As Curtis Mayfield's “P.S. I Love You” plays through the scene, Jules and Seth head down the escalator. Seth gazes lovingly at Evan as he rides down the stairwell. Seth has learned he must divorce himself from his best friend if he is ever to find his own sexual independence. Evan seems to already understand this, and is now free to mature at his own pace without Seth's juvenile antics to hold him back. He's also now had his first semi-sexual experience and doesn't possess the same fear of females as he did before.
The binary opposition of Seth and Evan's characters in Superbad helps us understand the opposing forces within every modern pubescent male. He receives mixed signals from the females he attempts to pursue. Today, women expect a man to be both passive and aggressive, sensitive yet in control, a sex machine, but not a sexual predator. Seth interpreted these messages in the most misogynistic manner possible. Evan avoided the messages altogether, holding back his own sexual urges out of an extreme respect for women. In reality, most young men are a combination of these traits. The sub-story of Officers Micheals (Rogen) and Slater is a cautionary tale. If Seth and Evan don't mature soon, they could potentially emerge into similar overgrown boys.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
A Psychoanalytic Reading of Ian Fleming's "Doctor No"
Ian Fleming's James Bond is a complex man. He is a highly skilled secret agent who oozes machismo and arrogance. He's also a suave and gentlemanly ladies' man. Bond could be called a real “man's man” most of the time. However, as Fleming's Doctor No begins to unfold, the reader learns that Bond failed his previous mission, almost getting himself killed in the process. M's response to this outcome is to send Bond on a new mission, a “routine investigation and report” in sunny Jamaica (21). M is most likely aware of the true danger of this mission – going toe-to-toe with Doctor No. M sends Bond on this mission to help reignite his masculinity. He even castrates Bond from his beloved Beretta handgun, (a gun M's armorer refers to as a “ladies' gun”) forcing him to end “his fifteen years' marriage to the ugly bit of metal,” and to take on two unfamiliar weapons (20-21). At this point, Bond is certainly emasculated. He heads to Jamaica for a relaxing investigation, but will soon be embroiled in a battle to reconnect with his inner animal, his life drive, his masculinity. It is not until Bond meets the beauty in this tale, Honeychile Rider, that he will be able to do so.
As soon as Bond arrives in Jamaica, a clear coding of animal attributes begins to color the story. These animal codes reflect just how civilized Bond is, and how very foreign the wild is to him. As Bond flies into Jamaica, he describes it as a “big green turtle-backed island” (32). He greets his native sidekick, Quarrel, by shaking his “paw” (34). He quickly notices the horse-drawn carts and donkeys littering the area. Bond is aware that he is out of his element. When he first arrives at his hotel, to better acclimate himself with his new surroundings, Bond strips off his old clothes and showers to wash away the “last dirt of big-city life” (37). Later, while sleeping in his hotel room, Bond awakes to find a centipede crawling up his body. Although he is able to remain still until the centipede crawls onto the pillow, he shakes uncontrollably and vomits after the experience. This reaction exhibits Bond's fear of the wild that he will soon be facing.
Bond's reignition of manhood begins when he meets Honey. This is not surprising if one is familiar with Fleming's works. Bond is a man who thrives on beautiful women and a good martini. Bond's life drive switches on when he feels he has a woman to protect. Honey is that woman in Fleming's Doctor No. When he first sees Honey on the beach at Crab Key, Bond uses both masculine and animal terms to describe her. He says that she has “more powerful muscles than is usual in a woman,” and that her “behind was almost as firm and rounded as a boy's” (79). Bond is immediately excited by this wild, naked woman with a knife at her hip. “Her imperious attitude and her quality of attack were exciting,” he says. “The way she had reached for her knife to defend herself! She was like an animal whose cubs are threatened” (83). Bond also describes her as “a dog that nobody wants to pet” (83). Throughout the novel, he will refer to her as “a principal girl dressed as Man Friday” (84), an “Ugly Duckling” (109), a “poor little bitch” (92), and an “extraordinary Girl Tarzan” (120). Nearly every time Bond takes a moment to look at Honey, to comment on how he views her, he uses either masculine or animal terms in the description. Bond appreciates the animal instincts that are exhibited by this woman. In fact, she will have to help him find his own before he can escape from Crab Key alive.
Honey proves to be an asset on Bond's excursion, as she provides helpful tips on navigating the island and hiding from their pursuers. Honey becomes the wild, animal part of Bond that he needs to survive. Once they are captured and separated by Doctor No, Bond must use his own animal instincts to prevail. He does this by thinking of Honey often – four times in the course of Doctor No's death trial, to be exact. His greatest hope is to come out of the course alive so that he may rescue the girl, who has been taken away and tied up naked on the mountain for crabs to eat. Thinking of Honey reminds Bond of the animal nature that lies within himself. When he first begins the trial, Bond is injured by the wire grille that attacks him like a snake. After he crawls through the ventilation shaft to find heat as his next opponent, he tells himself to think of the girl for strength. Once he makes it through the fiery shaft, his animal instincts have fully risen to the surface:
Next, Doctor No uses nature against Bond, (as he is often inclined to do) this time putting thirty giant tarantulas in his way. After stabbing them all to death, Bond once again thinks of Honey for courage. Bond's next challenge is against the giant squid, which seems to molest him at the end of his trial. He is subject to the “hard kiss of the suckers” walking up his thigh and hip (202). After Bond plunges his spear into the squid, it empties its ink sac at him. Despite the fact that Bond has been in and out of consciousness, and is badly burned and bruised, he has managed to use his animal instincts to overcome Doctor No's death trial. Now, in order to finish the job and take out Doctor No, Bond thinks of Honey once more. He then has the strength to wash up and continue.
After burying Doctor No under a pile of guano dust, Bond runs into Honey and learns that she has escaped the crabs safely and is on her way to kill Doctor No herself with a screwdriver. Once he learns that she is fine, his mind reverts to focusing on his own pain: “He ran automatically. He hardly thought of the girl” (215). When Honey explains to Bond that she escaped the crabs by having no fear of them, he says, “I wish to heaven I'd known that. I thought you were being picked to pieces” (221). In fact, without thinking that Honey was in danger, Bond may not have found the life drive that he needed to survive.
Bond redeems himself for his previous failed mission by reigniting his manhood on this one. However, it took a woman to show him what he was missing. The climax of this transformation occurs once Bond and Honey return to Jamaica, as Honey cleans and cares for Bond's battle scars. “Hold tight, my darling. And cry. It's going to hurt,” she tells him (229). As Honey applies the medicine, Bond allows “tears of pain” to “run out of his eyes and down his cheeks without shame” (229). This beautiful scene exhibits Bond's rugged masculinity through the wounds, but also emasculates him by putting Honey in control. Bond concludes his trip by sending M a snarky telegram, telling him to “kindly inform armorer Smith and Wesson ineffective against flame-thrower” (229). The message is his way of reclaiming his masculinity, of telling M that he's back in the game. But while he has reclaimed his life drive, his animal instinct, his masculinity, the tale ends with Honey demanding “slave-time” from Bond. The emasculation of Bond at the end of the novel brings the tale full circle.
Work Cited
Fleming, Ian. Doctor No. New York: Penguin, 1958.
As soon as Bond arrives in Jamaica, a clear coding of animal attributes begins to color the story. These animal codes reflect just how civilized Bond is, and how very foreign the wild is to him. As Bond flies into Jamaica, he describes it as a “big green turtle-backed island” (32). He greets his native sidekick, Quarrel, by shaking his “paw” (34). He quickly notices the horse-drawn carts and donkeys littering the area. Bond is aware that he is out of his element. When he first arrives at his hotel, to better acclimate himself with his new surroundings, Bond strips off his old clothes and showers to wash away the “last dirt of big-city life” (37). Later, while sleeping in his hotel room, Bond awakes to find a centipede crawling up his body. Although he is able to remain still until the centipede crawls onto the pillow, he shakes uncontrollably and vomits after the experience. This reaction exhibits Bond's fear of the wild that he will soon be facing.
Bond's reignition of manhood begins when he meets Honey. This is not surprising if one is familiar with Fleming's works. Bond is a man who thrives on beautiful women and a good martini. Bond's life drive switches on when he feels he has a woman to protect. Honey is that woman in Fleming's Doctor No. When he first sees Honey on the beach at Crab Key, Bond uses both masculine and animal terms to describe her. He says that she has “more powerful muscles than is usual in a woman,” and that her “behind was almost as firm and rounded as a boy's” (79). Bond is immediately excited by this wild, naked woman with a knife at her hip. “Her imperious attitude and her quality of attack were exciting,” he says. “The way she had reached for her knife to defend herself! She was like an animal whose cubs are threatened” (83). Bond also describes her as “a dog that nobody wants to pet” (83). Throughout the novel, he will refer to her as “a principal girl dressed as Man Friday” (84), an “Ugly Duckling” (109), a “poor little bitch” (92), and an “extraordinary Girl Tarzan” (120). Nearly every time Bond takes a moment to look at Honey, to comment on how he views her, he uses either masculine or animal terms in the description. Bond appreciates the animal instincts that are exhibited by this woman. In fact, she will have to help him find his own before he can escape from Crab Key alive.
Honey proves to be an asset on Bond's excursion, as she provides helpful tips on navigating the island and hiding from their pursuers. Honey becomes the wild, animal part of Bond that he needs to survive. Once they are captured and separated by Doctor No, Bond must use his own animal instincts to prevail. He does this by thinking of Honey often – four times in the course of Doctor No's death trial, to be exact. His greatest hope is to come out of the course alive so that he may rescue the girl, who has been taken away and tied up naked on the mountain for crabs to eat. Thinking of Honey reminds Bond of the animal nature that lies within himself. When he first begins the trial, Bond is injured by the wire grille that attacks him like a snake. After he crawls through the ventilation shaft to find heat as his next opponent, he tells himself to think of the girl for strength. Once he makes it through the fiery shaft, his animal instincts have fully risen to the surface:
Bond's lips drew back from his teeth and he snarled into the darkness. It was an animal sound. He had come to the end of his human reactions of pain and adversity. Doctor No had got him cornered. But there were animal reserves of desperation left and, in a strong animal, those reserves are deep (193).
Next, Doctor No uses nature against Bond, (as he is often inclined to do) this time putting thirty giant tarantulas in his way. After stabbing them all to death, Bond once again thinks of Honey for courage. Bond's next challenge is against the giant squid, which seems to molest him at the end of his trial. He is subject to the “hard kiss of the suckers” walking up his thigh and hip (202). After Bond plunges his spear into the squid, it empties its ink sac at him. Despite the fact that Bond has been in and out of consciousness, and is badly burned and bruised, he has managed to use his animal instincts to overcome Doctor No's death trial. Now, in order to finish the job and take out Doctor No, Bond thinks of Honey once more. He then has the strength to wash up and continue.
After burying Doctor No under a pile of guano dust, Bond runs into Honey and learns that she has escaped the crabs safely and is on her way to kill Doctor No herself with a screwdriver. Once he learns that she is fine, his mind reverts to focusing on his own pain: “He ran automatically. He hardly thought of the girl” (215). When Honey explains to Bond that she escaped the crabs by having no fear of them, he says, “I wish to heaven I'd known that. I thought you were being picked to pieces” (221). In fact, without thinking that Honey was in danger, Bond may not have found the life drive that he needed to survive.
Bond redeems himself for his previous failed mission by reigniting his manhood on this one. However, it took a woman to show him what he was missing. The climax of this transformation occurs once Bond and Honey return to Jamaica, as Honey cleans and cares for Bond's battle scars. “Hold tight, my darling. And cry. It's going to hurt,” she tells him (229). As Honey applies the medicine, Bond allows “tears of pain” to “run out of his eyes and down his cheeks without shame” (229). This beautiful scene exhibits Bond's rugged masculinity through the wounds, but also emasculates him by putting Honey in control. Bond concludes his trip by sending M a snarky telegram, telling him to “kindly inform armorer Smith and Wesson ineffective against flame-thrower” (229). The message is his way of reclaiming his masculinity, of telling M that he's back in the game. But while he has reclaimed his life drive, his animal instinct, his masculinity, the tale ends with Honey demanding “slave-time” from Bond. The emasculation of Bond at the end of the novel brings the tale full circle.
Work Cited
Fleming, Ian. Doctor No. New York: Penguin, 1958.
ENG 311 Final Paper Prospectus
For my final paper, I plan to explore Geoffrey Chaucer's “The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale” to determine if his creation of the wife's character ultimately colors him as a misogynist or a feminist. While reading the tale, as a modern woman, I think his voice to be liberating for women of the era, although I know that the story was interpreted as comedic by Chaucer's audience. Chaucer was aware of the historical patriarchal constraints on women, but also of another sort of woman who was emerging thanks the Roman Catholic Church's emphasis on the importance of marriage. Some women were making a career out of wifehood – a vice the Wife of Bath has no qualms bragging about. Chaucer's Canterbury Tales is a satire, after all. This leads me to believe that Chaucer would have intended for his work to be read as more feminist than misogynist, although he knew that his misogynist audience would read it otherwise.
The voice of the tale is unmistakably masculine, a product of the male author's pen and also of a world where language for women hardly existed. Writing by women was rare in Chaucer's era, and he had to create a language to use for his Wife. It is to be expected that her language should be as masculine as the Miller's, because her words are being constructed by a man. Chaucer's weakness – that he is not female – haunts him as he is touted as a misogynist for his creation of the head-strong Wife of Bath.
Just as the Wife of Bath uses scripture to justify her actions, I, too, plan on referring to a religious text, “Genesis A” of the Anglo-Saxon Junius XI manuscript, to defend my argument. I will focus on the words the devil uses to tempt Eve into coercing Adam into eating from the Tree of Life: “Thou mayest rule the heart of Adam.” Eve ultimately gives in to the devil because she desires to have complete sovereignty over her husband, just as the Wife of Bath desires. Because holy scripture calls for a man to have dominion over his wife, woman is bound to desire equality at some point or another. Chaucer's tale is a satire on the oldest story told: the Fall of Man wrought by woman's weakness. However, woman deserves pity when one realizes she is only weak because she desires to reign in her husband's heart just as he reigns in her's.
With the use of the following journal articles, I plan to analyze “The Wife of Bath's Tale and Prologue” through a societal and cultural lens, discussing the impact of religion and the institution of marriage on Medieval women. I will ultimately argue that Chaucer's piece should be read as a feminist work that was well ahead of it's time. After all, it is not uncommon for the author to be referred to as the father of modern English literature.
Annotated Bibliography
Butler, Sara. “Runaway Wives: Husband Desertion in Medieval England.” Journal of Social History 40.2 (2006): 337-359.
This article details the phenomenon of women marrying – and then deserting – their husbands during Medieval England. Benedictine orders from the church emphasized marriage, and women who had once been in abusive male-dominated relationships were leaving their husbands, taking half of the man's assets with them. This article highlights women like the Wife of Bath who made a career out of marriage, explaining their societal reasons for doing so.
Chaucer, Geoffrey. “The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale.” Canterbury Tales. New York: Covici Friede Inc., 1934. 311-344.
“The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale” will be the primary focus of my paper. I will use quotations within the text to analyze the character of the Wife, and will aim to prove Chaucer a feminist based on this piece of literature.
Cox, Catherine S. "Holy Erotica and the Virgin Word: Promiscuous Glossing in the Wife of Bath's Prologue." Exemplaria: A Journal of Theory in Medieval and Renaissance Studies 5.1 (1993): 207-237. MLA International Bibliography. EBSCO. Web. 28 Oct. 2009.
This article discusses the language of “The Wife of Bath's Prologue,” pointing out that the Wife could never truly speak with a woman's voice because she has been constructed in a man's world. It also focuses on the topic of “glossing” a text, as Cox claims Chaucer has done with the prologue, inserting overtly masculine vocabulary for a purpose. This argument takes on another layer as the Wife herself speaks about glossing while relaying her own glossed version of scripture.
Cubitt, Catherine. “Virginity and Misogyny in Tenth- and Eleventh-Century England.” Gender and History 12.1 (2000): 1-32.
This article explains how women were affected by Benedictine orders that stressed marriage over sexual deviance. Because many women feared being dominated by a man, they avoided marriage and instead chose chastity. Others, who had previously been subject to rape and abuse, found themselves protected under the orders. Just as the Wife of Bath does, the article discusses a married woman's sexual obligation to her husband.
Cullinan, Colleen Carpenter. “In Pain and Sorrow: Childbirth, Incarnation, and the Suffering of Women.” Cross Currents 58.1 (2008): 95-107.
Cullinan's article details the pain of childbearing and society's acceptance of this pain as a natural part of a woman's reproductive right. Using religious discourse, she explains how, since the Fall of Man, it has been culturally accepted that women should suffer. This article interests me because it helps explain the Wife's desire to have masculine equality and escape the constraints of womanhood.
Hansen, Elaine Tuttle. "The Wife of Bath and the Mark of Adam." Women's Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal 15.4 (1988): 399-416.
This article discusses the Wife's use of language and her knowledge about Biblical texts, which would have been uncharacteristic for a woman of her time. This knowledge unmistakably paints her voice as masculine, Hansen argues.
Karras, Ruth Mazo. “Writing about – and around – medieval women.” Journal of the History of the Behavioral Sciences 29.3 (1993): 214-218.
This article is a review of five books on the topic of “the experiences of medieval women,” however, the reviewer claims that sources on the subject were profoundly limited. Karras states that most of the books she could locate on the topic of medieval women were primarily concerned with misogyny and the male-dominance of said women. Therefore, there is no justifiable voice for women of the era to be referenced. “The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale,” although written by a man, are some of the era's only feminine voices to be found.
Killings, Douglas B., ed. “Genesis A.” Codex Junius XI. Project Gutenberg, 1996.
I will refer to this section of the Anglo-Saxon manuscript to cite the devil's temptation of Eve. As he tries to influence her to talk Adam into eating from the Tree of Life, he says, “Thou mayest rule the heart of Adam.” I find it very interesting that the devil tempts the woman – defined as the weaker sex – with sovereignty over her husband. How ironic that Chaucer's Wife desires the same.
Morgan, Gerald. “Medieval Misogyny and Gawain's Outburst Against Women in 'Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.'” Modern Language Review 97.2 (2002): 265-279.
Morgan's article explores anti-feminist themes in “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,” and parallels them with Chaucer's Knight in Canterbury Tales. This article may be relevant to my discussion as it draws strong parallels between “The Wife of Bath's Tale” and the story of the knight on King Arthur's court who was found guilty of assaulting a maiden.
Nelson, Janet L. “Gender, Memory and Social Power.” Gender and History 12.3 (2000) 722-735.
This article explores the historical role of women in families, as well as their contribution to written literature. It also defines male dominance, explaining the historical and societal reasons a man desires to reign supreme over his family.
Rigby, S. H. “Misogynist versus Feminist Chaucer.” Chaucer in Context: Society, Allegory and Gender. Manchester University Press, 1996. 116-163. Rpt. in Literature Criticism from 1400 to 1800. Ed. Lawrence J. Trudeau. Vol. 56. Detroit: Gale Group, 2000. 116-163. Literature Resource Center. Gale. Ohio University. 28 Oct. 2009.
This article discusses Chaucer's sexual politics in Canterbury Tales, and defines the ways that his work can be read as both misogynist and feminist in nature. Where I aim to determine Chaucer's intent, this article is more of a description of his characters and their sexual attributes.
Treharne, Elaine. “The Stereotype Confirmed? Chaucer's Wife of Bath.” Writing Gender and Genre in Medieval Literature: Approaches to Old and Middle English Texts. Ed. Elaine Treharne Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2002. 93-115. Rpt. in Poetry Criticism. Ed. Lawrence J. Trudeau. Vol. 58. Detroit: Gale, 2005. 93-115. Literature Resource Center. Gale. Ohio University. 28 Oct. 2009.
In this article, Treharne describes how Chaucer was capable of constructing man's most feared opponent – a domineering female. The author focuses on Chaucer's fine grasp of language to paint a satirical image of the society in which he lived.
The voice of the tale is unmistakably masculine, a product of the male author's pen and also of a world where language for women hardly existed. Writing by women was rare in Chaucer's era, and he had to create a language to use for his Wife. It is to be expected that her language should be as masculine as the Miller's, because her words are being constructed by a man. Chaucer's weakness – that he is not female – haunts him as he is touted as a misogynist for his creation of the head-strong Wife of Bath.
Just as the Wife of Bath uses scripture to justify her actions, I, too, plan on referring to a religious text, “Genesis A” of the Anglo-Saxon Junius XI manuscript, to defend my argument. I will focus on the words the devil uses to tempt Eve into coercing Adam into eating from the Tree of Life: “Thou mayest rule the heart of Adam.” Eve ultimately gives in to the devil because she desires to have complete sovereignty over her husband, just as the Wife of Bath desires. Because holy scripture calls for a man to have dominion over his wife, woman is bound to desire equality at some point or another. Chaucer's tale is a satire on the oldest story told: the Fall of Man wrought by woman's weakness. However, woman deserves pity when one realizes she is only weak because she desires to reign in her husband's heart just as he reigns in her's.
With the use of the following journal articles, I plan to analyze “The Wife of Bath's Tale and Prologue” through a societal and cultural lens, discussing the impact of religion and the institution of marriage on Medieval women. I will ultimately argue that Chaucer's piece should be read as a feminist work that was well ahead of it's time. After all, it is not uncommon for the author to be referred to as the father of modern English literature.
Annotated Bibliography
Butler, Sara. “Runaway Wives: Husband Desertion in Medieval England.” Journal of Social History 40.2 (2006): 337-359.
This article details the phenomenon of women marrying – and then deserting – their husbands during Medieval England. Benedictine orders from the church emphasized marriage, and women who had once been in abusive male-dominated relationships were leaving their husbands, taking half of the man's assets with them. This article highlights women like the Wife of Bath who made a career out of marriage, explaining their societal reasons for doing so.
Chaucer, Geoffrey. “The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale.” Canterbury Tales. New York: Covici Friede Inc., 1934. 311-344.
“The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale” will be the primary focus of my paper. I will use quotations within the text to analyze the character of the Wife, and will aim to prove Chaucer a feminist based on this piece of literature.
Cox, Catherine S. "Holy Erotica and the Virgin Word: Promiscuous Glossing in the Wife of Bath's Prologue." Exemplaria: A Journal of Theory in Medieval and Renaissance Studies 5.1 (1993): 207-237. MLA International Bibliography. EBSCO. Web. 28 Oct. 2009.
This article discusses the language of “The Wife of Bath's Prologue,” pointing out that the Wife could never truly speak with a woman's voice because she has been constructed in a man's world. It also focuses on the topic of “glossing” a text, as Cox claims Chaucer has done with the prologue, inserting overtly masculine vocabulary for a purpose. This argument takes on another layer as the Wife herself speaks about glossing while relaying her own glossed version of scripture.
Cubitt, Catherine. “Virginity and Misogyny in Tenth- and Eleventh-Century England.” Gender and History 12.1 (2000): 1-32.
This article explains how women were affected by Benedictine orders that stressed marriage over sexual deviance. Because many women feared being dominated by a man, they avoided marriage and instead chose chastity. Others, who had previously been subject to rape and abuse, found themselves protected under the orders. Just as the Wife of Bath does, the article discusses a married woman's sexual obligation to her husband.
Cullinan, Colleen Carpenter. “In Pain and Sorrow: Childbirth, Incarnation, and the Suffering of Women.” Cross Currents 58.1 (2008): 95-107.
Cullinan's article details the pain of childbearing and society's acceptance of this pain as a natural part of a woman's reproductive right. Using religious discourse, she explains how, since the Fall of Man, it has been culturally accepted that women should suffer. This article interests me because it helps explain the Wife's desire to have masculine equality and escape the constraints of womanhood.
Hansen, Elaine Tuttle. "The Wife of Bath and the Mark of Adam." Women's Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal 15.4 (1988): 399-416.
This article discusses the Wife's use of language and her knowledge about Biblical texts, which would have been uncharacteristic for a woman of her time. This knowledge unmistakably paints her voice as masculine, Hansen argues.
Karras, Ruth Mazo. “Writing about – and around – medieval women.” Journal of the History of the Behavioral Sciences 29.3 (1993): 214-218.
This article is a review of five books on the topic of “the experiences of medieval women,” however, the reviewer claims that sources on the subject were profoundly limited. Karras states that most of the books she could locate on the topic of medieval women were primarily concerned with misogyny and the male-dominance of said women. Therefore, there is no justifiable voice for women of the era to be referenced. “The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale,” although written by a man, are some of the era's only feminine voices to be found.
Killings, Douglas B., ed. “Genesis A.” Codex Junius XI. Project Gutenberg, 1996.
I will refer to this section of the Anglo-Saxon manuscript to cite the devil's temptation of Eve. As he tries to influence her to talk Adam into eating from the Tree of Life, he says, “Thou mayest rule the heart of Adam.” I find it very interesting that the devil tempts the woman – defined as the weaker sex – with sovereignty over her husband. How ironic that Chaucer's Wife desires the same.
Morgan, Gerald. “Medieval Misogyny and Gawain's Outburst Against Women in 'Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.'” Modern Language Review 97.2 (2002): 265-279.
Morgan's article explores anti-feminist themes in “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,” and parallels them with Chaucer's Knight in Canterbury Tales. This article may be relevant to my discussion as it draws strong parallels between “The Wife of Bath's Tale” and the story of the knight on King Arthur's court who was found guilty of assaulting a maiden.
Nelson, Janet L. “Gender, Memory and Social Power.” Gender and History 12.3 (2000) 722-735.
This article explores the historical role of women in families, as well as their contribution to written literature. It also defines male dominance, explaining the historical and societal reasons a man desires to reign supreme over his family.
Rigby, S. H. “Misogynist versus Feminist Chaucer.” Chaucer in Context: Society, Allegory and Gender. Manchester University Press, 1996. 116-163. Rpt. in Literature Criticism from 1400 to 1800. Ed. Lawrence J. Trudeau. Vol. 56. Detroit: Gale Group, 2000. 116-163. Literature Resource Center. Gale. Ohio University. 28 Oct. 2009
This article discusses Chaucer's sexual politics in Canterbury Tales, and defines the ways that his work can be read as both misogynist and feminist in nature. Where I aim to determine Chaucer's intent, this article is more of a description of his characters and their sexual attributes.
Treharne, Elaine. “The Stereotype Confirmed? Chaucer's Wife of Bath.” Writing Gender and Genre in Medieval Literature: Approaches to Old and Middle English Texts. Ed. Elaine Treharne Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2002. 93-115. Rpt. in Poetry Criticism. Ed. Lawrence J. Trudeau. Vol. 58. Detroit: Gale, 2005. 93-115. Literature Resource Center. Gale. Ohio University. 28 Oct. 2009
In this article, Treharne describes how Chaucer was capable of constructing man's most feared opponent – a domineering female. The author focuses on Chaucer's fine grasp of language to paint a satirical image of the society in which he lived.
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