No excuse for tardiness. Moving on.

Marvelous.

I have just finished reading [rereading most of it as I went] the essay on the Marvelous in Le Goff. I am still not entirely sure where he is coming from or where in the world he may be going. True, in the first circuitous definition of imagination, he picked and pulled to at least form an idea, if not a solidified concept, but in this chapter I felt as though he did actually define the marvelous quite clearly. Somewhere between the words, perhaps, slipping behind a handy h right when you turn to look, like that spook behind the pillar next to you.

The one connection I managed to maintain is that the marvelous is something natural, something old. It is not magic because magic, in the Christian sense at least, has been sourced outside the world itself to Satan [who then could be sourced to God but a bastardization of holy power and everything kind of jumbles itself around in a mental tussel with no clear winner in my head, but that is unrelated to this conversation]. It is not miraculous because that, too, has the implied source, though in God. So marvels are of nature. How does one then define nature and manage to diferentiate between when something that happened was either miraculous or marvelous?

I was interested in his dredging up of the literature and lore of the knights and lower nobility, which brought to mind Once and Future King, The Faerie Queene, and Dante [yes, in that order, though the first and second are hardly as applicable as the first and the latter two are both based in some overt form of Christianity. I did not see fit to include Phantastes, though it also was sluiced in], bringing with them the images [which Le Goff believes is also an important part of the marvelous] of a sword coming from a lady in a lake, and a tree that is bleeding.

And here is where my thoughts trailed off into bafflement...comment. Question. Answer. Something.

Getting our Leg Off the Ground*...

Well, since we've finally chosen a book to tackle together, and since I know that Mark and Leslie have them by now (for a few day), I thought I would start some thoughts here about the introduction to Jacques Le Goff's The Medieval Imagination.

Among Le Goff's definitions and beginning to sort out his use of imagination as a methodology to think about history, I found it striking how he saw it so central to human thought.
was the following:

The images of interest to the historian are collective images as they are shaped, changed, and transformed by the vicissitudes of history. They are expressed in words and themes. They are bequeathed in traditions, borrowed from one civilization to another, and circulated among the various classes and societies of man. They are a part of social history but not subsumed by it.... The imagination nourishes the man and causes him to act. It is a collective, social, and historical phenomenon. A history without the imagination is a mutilated, disembodied history. (5)

In its eloquence, this passage struck me, but, more than that, it also informs some of the discussions we've had about the collectivity of history and literature. It thrilled me to see a scholar embracing such a definition as the core of his methodology in searching for the past. All of this also points toward his strong sense of interdisciplinarity--using literature, art, historical documents, philosophy.

Another aspect that I found fascinating is Le Goff's sense of time and the medieval period, as he writes, "when one takes a broad view of human evolution, it is clear that certain slowly developing systems or phases persist for relatively long periods" (9)--an idea he uses to justify the long Middle Ages and his even longer approach to history of the period (further developed in his first chapter). I'm interested in your thoughts about his views here and in the first chapter "For an Extended Middle Ages."

No doubt there are myriad other concepts to focus on--for me, I'm also greatly pulled toward Le Goff's examination of the marvelous, since I've always gravitated toward that sort of aspect of history and literature. Hopefully that's enough to get us started!


*Again with the punny title, I know. Please continue in your forgiving attitudes.

Finally read it! NotR

I am a lapsed novel reader, and every year at Christmas I promise to climb back on the wagon. For the second holiday season, Umberto Eco provided the means. This season, I finally read Name of the Rose. In the interest of keeping NYR (New Year's Resolution) 1--namely to post more on R47--and in hopes that the ensuing conversation might help encourage me to keep NYR2 (read more novels)--I'll make a brief post here.

Brandon, I remember you posting something somewhere about the book--could you provide a link? General reaction: I enjoyed the book and felt transported into the 14th century. (And I wanted to stay there, although I think the burning of the library may have totally undone me--I would have become a wandering mad mendicant.) Eco plays with a lot of things, and I lament my lack of Latin yet once more as it means I missed key issues that were at play. One theme that I enjoyed thinking about, and one that seems ever relevant, is the danger of certainty and the shifting sands of knowledge and justification. Both the philosophical issues (Aristotle, later Bacon, vs, Plato, Plotinus, Augustine) and the theological issues (the chronology of the attainment of the beatific vision, and the role of poverty in the life of Christ, the Church, the believer) are imminently current.

So what do you all recall/review from the book, and what did you make of it?