One idea that struck me the most during this reading was the moral of the story. I couldn’t really figure it out. Was it revenge? Was there no moral? I also started to wonder then what the purpose was for stories like these during the time. Did they write them for simple entertainment or to teach a lesson? Did they use them as cautionary tales or ways to promote values such a bravery and courage? I tend to like to know the motives behind writings such as these which is why I found this one so interesting. Because either way you look at it, each character committed some sort of crime so it’s hard to think of any of them as a hero or protagonist. And although each were hurt in some way, they each chose revenge and violence as their reaction and solution leading to mixed emotions about all of them.

In Marie de France’s lai “Yonec,” a distressed maiden is locked in a tower in the woods by her jealous husband, awaiting her heroic rescue executed by a knight in shining armor. Though the arrival of her knight is timely and subtle, their passion as lovers quickly begets tragedy when the jealous husband gleans the happenings. Though this lai employs many elements of typical courtly love, like the beauty of chastity and unrequited love, and the triumph of valor over evil, I was sometimes perplexed by the role of religion in the text. It is obviously appropriate for the maiden in this story to prioritize religion, and Muldumarec’s agreement is also expected, though his defense of his religion and the lengths he goes to demonstrate it seem perhaps unwarranted. When, “She told him she would make him her lover/ If he believed in God above” it seems likely that a simple assertion of his faith, accompanied by a demonstration of his acceptance of her chastity would have been a sufficient response (Marie de France 5). Instead, Muldumarec devises an elaborate plan to receive communion as substantial proof. When reading this section for the first time, I honestly expected a revelation that Muldumarec was incapable of being truly faithful, perhaps in part due to his magical powers. However, I was quickly disproven when his goals were successfully realized. My resulting interpretation does contain some confusion about the necessity of his actions in proving his faith, though it is possible it is simply a difference of cultural norms that have lost their relevance.

Yonec by Marie de France is an interesting lai because it offers an interesting perspective of marriage and knight hood. During this time female chastity is a highly emphasized custom and it was socially unacceptable for a maid to be unchaste or to take council with other men outside of the marriage. The maiden in this lai is kept locked away for the King’s personal satisfaction. This behavior may not have been the custom but it was accepted because wives were seen as the property of their husband. After marriage the husband can do whatever he pleases with little to no consequences while the wife is expected to stay chaste, honest, loyal, and obedience to her husband.

Marie de France presents a disloyal, unchaste wife in Yonec and sets her up as the victim by being locked away during her entire marriage. Although the wife has good reason for her disloyalty to her husband this is unacceptable behavior for a wife and deserves punishments according to the customs of this time. Rather than emphasize the wife’s villainy, the speaker instead labels the husband “evil” and “felon” for seeking revenge on the wife’s lover. The sister is also labeled deceitful and betraying as she reveals the details of the lovers to the husband. The speaker sets the adulterous lovers up as innocent victims while the husband and sisters are illustrated as evil villains, which is rarely seen during this time.

Another interesting point is how the knight is dishonest and deceitful but still upheld and honored by those in his kingdom as well as the wife. The characters in the play are illustrated in ways that contradict the customs of the time period and I find that interesting.

Similarly to my peers, I found the article by Evans to be an interesting read. I was familiar with the idea that many emotions are culturally shared, like fear and disgust, but the revelation of cultural specific emotions certainly came as a surprise. Initially, I found it difficult to accept “feeling like a pig,” as a genuine emotion, instead of simply an elaborate coping mechanism for the mentioned financial difficulties that often accompany the phenomena. However, this is likely due to my own indoctrinated Western ideas on what can be accepted as genuine emotion. The article successfully convinced me that Western emotions arise from needs in society, similarly to the Gururumba people’s peculiar response to financial stresses. Additionally, the information regarding higher cognitive emotions was also new to me, which came as a surprise given that much of my education has been in liberal arts, which is often associated with expressed emotion. I agree with the class assertion that analyzing emotion indeed has a place in the English classroom, and is currently underrepresented.

I want to first comment on the German origin of the English language, more so apparent in Old English than any other version since derived. I never knew English had a German background or influence but that does explain why Old English sounds so foreign and is such a challenge to unravel. In the exercise it is evident as the language and characters become more familiar, that there is a shift in the origin. The most noticeable difference is the change in letters or symbols used the in Old and Middle English. Once these characters are omitted or replace by French or Modern English the language is more familiar to the Early or Modern English reader. The shift from Old English to Middle English is interesting as well because we see the meshing of two languages, German and French. The French being more familiar because with German influence discontinued the French influence increased and is now prevalent in the Modern English language today, though greatly evolved.

The history of the difference influences on the language is also interesting although I am not clear on how the church conflict and politics tie into or influence the Middle English language aside from the power shifts of nations. The events inspired stories, But how was the language affected?

Others’ blogs have focused on the word amae that Evans referred to, yet what struck me most when reading about this word was how it made me feel. I found the fact that the English language did not have its own unique equivalent somehow jarring. Mark Twain once stated that “the difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter- ’tis the difference between the lightning-bug and the lightning.” This quote has always resonated with me, as I’m sure any English major would understand, when writing and reading. Finding that perfect word and being able to convey your meaning without ambiguity is essential, and when reading I marvel at this ability in others.

Evans’ article answered my question as to why I found the lack of the English word for amae so disconcerting. The inability to effectively portray our emotions has from an evolutionary and biological standpoint led to complications in that our true emotions are misjudged. As Evans points out, those emotions of a higher cognitive nature are fundamentally social. The more accurately we are able to convey our emotions to those around us the greater our awareness is of our relationships and social situations, enabling us to make more informed decisions. As an English and Psychology double major I really appreciated reading this article!

After reflecting upon our previous meeting and the assigned readings, I noticed something interesting about my associations with certain terms or phrases that were used in class or the texts. This was all triggered by that first discussion question in class on Tuesday: what does medieval mean to you? Gastle’s chapter touched upon some other relevant, related concepts that generated wildly different connotations in my head. For example, when someone says “Old English” or “Anglosaxon,” I immediately think of texts like Beowulf or Caedmon’s Hymn. When the term “medieval” is bandied around, my mind goes straight to knights and courtly love and Arthurian literature. This is probably, in large part, due to the BBC show Merlin.  Another phrase I’ve come across is “the Dark Ages” and I imagine literal darkness, the Bubonic plague, and the “bring out your dead!” scene from Monty Python. The “Middle Ages” trigger history lessons about the Crusades and the Monarchy and various wars. All of these concepts were covered in Gastle’s chapter on historical context and it was interesting to see how they worked together to create the backdrop of the literature we will be studying this semester. What are everyone else’s associations and connotations regarding these terms? What do you think the literature we read will focus on the most? What ideas and concepts are you looking forward to? It’s probably overdone, but I personally am excited for anything about knights.

As others have already noted, Evans argues in his piece for the role of emotion as a common part of the human experience. Although some of what we would classify of emotion is highly specific to an individual culture or background, anthropology today suggests there are some human emotions that can be considered constant across the whole of humanity.

Where this interests me is in Evans’ discussion of the concept of the word 甘え, or amae. (Side-note: The character 甘 carries the meaning sweet, which seems fitting). Although the word does not exist in English, the ultimate feeling that Evans argues can be summed up with the word amae can still be experienced by non-Japanese people. This flies in direct contrast to the so-called Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, also known as linguistic relativism. Sapir-Whorf is the concept that our thought processes are constrained by the language within which we operate to the extent that considering a reality outside of our linguistic construction becomes endlessly difficult. When Orwell considered the terror of Newspeak, with its doubleplus good here and Miniluv there, it was with Sapir-Whorf in mind because he viewed the implementation of Newspeak as a political process to undermine the ability of the masses to critique the undemocratic society in which they lived. If anything, that there is a core of the human experience in the form of a set of emotions that remain consistent across languages and cultures should provide us comfort not only that we can more confidently wade into the literature of the medieval era but also that the emotions we express now can be followed by those long after we pass.

I found both of these chapters from Evans fascinating. But I like to think that I was already an avid supporter of emotion so his arguments for emotion today and explanations for their usefulness weren’t what struck me the most. Yes, Aristotle’s “golden mean” makes a lot of sense when examining the role of emotion and virtue in our lives. I also believe, being someone with a positive view of emotion, that it certainly is better to be an emotional human than a Vulcan. And I must disagree with C.S. Lewis and his claim that love is a man-made product.

What really stood out to me, however, were “higher cognitive emotions”. First of all, I had never seen emotion broken down into categories based on the innateness of the emotion. It was new and it made a whole lot of sense. And with higher cognitive emotions (love, guilt, shame, pride, envy, jealousy, and embarrassment) I realized just how social some emotion really is. Like Evans says, “love and guilt require other people for their existence.”  This got me thinking about how what I take pride in, what I envy, what I am embarrassed by usually has to do with the values and interests of my peer group. I am proud of a new pair of Jordan because my friends will admire them. I am jealous of my ex’s new man. I envy the neighbor’s new S-class Benz. The realization that most of our emotion, or at least what triggers it, is dictated by our social environment means that we don’t even have full control over our own emotions, whether we would like to or not.

Evans’ first chapter crowns emotion as the “the universal language,” as the chapter is fittingly titled. Although not all languages have a word to describe a particular emotion, individuals across cultures and language barriers are likely able to feel that particular emotion. The example Evans shares describes a Japanese word, amae, which means, “comfort in another person’s complete acceptance” (2). Although the English language does not have a word that is equivalent to amae, all humans are capable of feeling this emotion. Evans further exemplifies the universality of emotion by sharing the categories of emotions on a spectrum including “basic” emotions that are naturally possessed by all humans, “culturally specific” emotions that are learned by some cultures, and “higher cognitive emotions,” which lie somewhere between basic and culturally specific emotions on a spectrum of emotions.

After reading Gastle’s historical context piece, I tried to find a connection between Evans’s emotional spectrum and medieval history and literature. The point that came to mind was the question asked during class on Tuesday, what it means to “feel medieval.” Considering this question with regard to the two articles, I imagine that Middle English literature may possess and elicit from the reader portrayals of basic emotions, such as joy, surprise, anger and fear, but also different culturally specific emotions, like the “being a wild pig” emotion of the Gururumba people of New Guinea and variations of the higher cognitive emotions (13). Gastle’s piece shares some of the political and religious problems of the medieval period, which are depicted in various pieces of literature. I look forward to using my newfound knowledge of the emotional spectrum and medieval history to attempt to better understand how “feeling medieval” actually feels.