Perception, Adaptation, and the Poetic Imagination
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Phenomenal Anglo-Saxons: Perception, Adaptation, and the Poetic Imagination by Peter David Buchanan A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Centre for Medieval Studies University of Toronto © Copyright by Peter David Buchanan 2013 Phenomenal Anglo-Saxons: Perception, Adaptation, and the Poetic Imagination Peter David Buchanan Doctor of Philosophy Centre for Medieval Studies University of Toronto 2013 Abstract This dissertation articulates a theory of adaptation for the Anglo-Saxon literature in which metaphors of embodiment mediate the reception of poetic works: when we read, our bodies get in the way. Central to my work is the understanding that the embodied situatedness of poets adapting materials from other sources informs the literature that they produce. I explore the material and textual conditions through which the writings of the period reveal themselves and seek to understand how these contexts shaped the reception of earlier writings. Poetic texts filled with sensory detail provide a framework for their own reception. My approach to textual phenomena is informed by reading in the phenomenological tradition of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, as expressed by the work of philosophers such as Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Gaston Bachelard, Hans-Georg Gadamer, and Jean-Luc Marion. Chapter One argues for a parallel relationship between the flesh of Christ and the medieval book in the reception of Prudentius. Their shared flesh allows the Word to appear in the world by taking on the animal nature of a life characterized by suffering. ii Chapter Two considers the suffering of the saints in Aldhelm’s Carmen de virginitate. This suffering constitutes a form of affective piety that provides a framework for the desirous reception of holy bodies and also of the textual corpora of early authors. Chapter Three argues that in Felix’s Vita Guthlaci, eating and reading reveal the body’s permeability. Guthlac’s ingestion of hallucinogenic mold and Felix’s reception of Aldhelm appear as a demonic attack that imbricates saint and hagiographer in the textualized landscape of the fen. Chapter Four analyzes the role of visual perception in the ekphrastic presentation of the phoenix as it appears in Lactantius’s Latin poem and its Old English translation. The interrelation of ekphrasis and translation as modes of perception grants the phoenix both literary and material forms. Chapter Five argues that crossing the Red Sea in Exodus embodies the theory of textual interpretation explicated by Moses in which the keys of the spirit reveal hidden truths. The crossing becomes a fusion of horizons, as the waters lower to reveal old foundations. iii Acknowledgments This dissertation would not have been completed without the encouragement and friendship of a great crowd of people. An appearance in the acknowledgements is poor recompense for the debt I owe them, but I hope that they will share in the joy of this accomplishment, as I share in their joys. First among many is my supervisor, Andy Orchard. My first exposure to most of the material that appears here was in a directed reading on the development of Anglo-Latin style, and his supervision is marked by the degree of freedom he grants to his students to pursue what they are passionate about while giving over his time and knowledge to aiding them in that pursuit. The other members of my supervisory committee, Toni Healey and David Townsend, have helped me with their enthusiasm, friendship, and rigorous reading of my work. Whatever is philologically best in my work is directly attributable to Toni, and I derive my love of Anglo- Latin hagiography from David. The final shape—and future developments—of the dissertation owe a great deal to the careful comments of my examiners, Katherine O’Brien O’Keeffe and Will Robins, who have helped highlight what was best while recognizing what needs to be improved. The University of Toronto has been my home for the last seven years, and my development as a medievalist and literary critic is due to the influence of the faculty and staff of the Centre for Medieval Studies and Department of English. In two years George Rigg taught me everything I know about the Latin language while always maintaining a dry wit and a selfless dedication to his students. Alexandra Gillespie changed how I thought about literature and the form of the book as well as nurturing a group of students who have been the best interlocutors a graduate student could hope for. Carol Percy has been my model for effective and innovative iv teaching for the last three years, and her hallmark is care for the welfare of her students, even as she demands their best work. In spite of having never taken one of their classes, Suzanne Akbari and Markus Stock have aided me with their willingness to engage student work in a serious and meaningful way and have been examples to me of how I hope to conduct myself as a professor. John Magee, Martin Pickavé, and Jill Caskey have, in their roles as administrators in the Centre for Medieval Studies, improved my work by their insistence upon and example of intellectual rigor, while also taking care for the experience of students. And we would all have been hopelessly lost if it weren’t for Grace Desa, Rosemary Beattie, and Elizabeth Pulickeel, who at all times kept the trains on the tracks. The members of the editorial staff at the Dictionary of Old English—Cathy Monahan, David and Ian McDougall, and Joan Holland—deserve a special thanks. For a year and a half they provided me with a friendly place to work as a research assistant, and my knowledge of Old English benefited tremendously from their advice and willingness to share their knowledge. I first came to the study of literature thanks to the happiness I found at the University of Kansas, where the pleasures of the English department pulled me away from my study of math and chemistry. Mary Klayder was adviser extraordinaire, in addition to fulfilling the roles of friend, travel companion, confidante, and provider of fudge. She also predicted years before I would realize it that I would be into linguistics. Geraldo Sousa taught me what it means to read literature carefully, and David Bergeron built on this foundation to show me what it means to write at a graduate level. Mary Catherine Davidson made medieval literature fun, and in addition to introducing me to the worlds of Black Adder and European zombie movies, was my first experience with a Toronto medievalist. Richard Hardin made me excited about connecting literature across time, as well as modeling the type of wry humor I now associate with the most v erudite of people. Kenneth Irby opened up the world of twentieth century poetry to me, and changed me ever since. If I hadn’t become a medievalist, I would be off reading H. D. somewhere. And finally, James Hartman opened the world of linguistics to me in a way I never expected. In two semesters he shaped my views on language so thoroughly and so unassumingly that I am forever marked by it. The community of Anglo-Saxonists I found in Toronto has been welcoming, marked by their conviviality and good cheer, as well as their diverse interests in every facet of Anglo-Saxon culture. Thanks to all of you for the pints, reading groups, discussions, and all manner of collegial gatherings. Thanks: Alexandra Bolintineanu, Emily Butler, Kasandra Castle, Megan Cavell, Alex Fleck, Damian Fleming, Rob Getz, Cameron Laird, Paul Langeslag, Tristan Major, Patrick Meusel, and Dave Wilton. I have also benefited from the international community of researchers who have been supportive of my work. They’ve given me places to stay at conferences, provided partners in crime for mid-day excursions to see the Sutton Hoo helmet, given me feedback on work in progress, and done a myriad of things that have helped, even though I don’t get a chance to see them anywhere near as much as I would like. Thanks to: Julia Bolotina, William Bolton, Brantley Bryant, Helen Foxhall Forbes, Johanna Green, Mary Kate Hurley, Kati Jagger, Eileen Joy, Erica Leighton, Jennifer Lorden, Frances McCormack, Dan Remein, Robert Stanton, Karl Steel, Carla Thomas, and Erica Weaver. I also owe a debt of gratitude to innumerable friends both in Toronto and elsewhere, some of whom have improved my work, but all of whom have provided me with support. This list isn’t comprehensive, but those who have been there for me as I completed my PhD include: James Brown, Bryant Boulianne, Sean Braune, Colleen Butler, Leanne Carroll, Travis Chalmers, vi Lindsey Eckert, Ben Fortescue, Emma Gorst, Giselle Gos, Adam and Monica Graves, Tim Harrison, Elizabeth Harper-Clark, Jessica Henderson, Letitia Henville, Jane Hilderman, Andrew House, Eileen Kim, Elizabeth Klaiber, Jennifer Konieczny, Shaun Lalonde, Chris Landon, Hailey LaVoy, Elaina Lysack, Kari Maaren, John MacCormick, Laura Marshall, Jennifer McDermott, Kristen Mills, Spencer Morrison, Natalie Papoutsis, Amanda Paxton, Chris Piuma, Chris Pugh, Michael Raby, Matt Schneider, Caitlin Tom, Alice Walkiewicz, Adele Wilson, and Phillip and Paula Wrigley. My poetry writing group has kept me sane for the last three years and provided an outlet for my creative energy. Janice Greenwood, Ryan Buchanan Allen, Michelle Webb, Emily Blakelock, and Kim and Matti Palonen have provided me with regular fellowship, silliness, commiseration, and joy. Stephen Pelle has been a friend, colleague, and Anglo-Saxonist without equal throughout my entire career as a graduate student. He and his wife Jess have been my supporters when I’ve been at my lowest and sharers in my greatest joys. Claire Battershill and Cillian O’Hogan have, individually, been two of my closest friends and academic supporters, and together a source of immense friendship and happiness.