This collection and the romances it investigates are crucial to our understanding of the aesthetics of medieval narrative and to the ideologies of gender and sexuality, race, religion, political formations, social class, ethics, morality and national identity with which those narratives emerge.
polarizing worldview, melodramas signify goodness in the suffering of
victims, and signify evil in the cruelty of antagonists. … [I]ndividual characters are often the metonymic substitute for economic or socialclasses.
(Anker, 2012: 136)
The clash between Diana and Connie as the ‘metonymic substitutes’ for,
respectively, the landed aristocracy and the working classes depicts not
only the imbalance of power but also the left-wing and melodramatic
stereotypes of the aristocracy as ‘bad’ and the working-class as ‘good’.
Diana is not simply the villainous aristocrat flexing
saint of her, but it did of a woman who was in Rome at precisely the same time and would almost certainly have been known to the Alberti family: St Francesca Romana / Francesca of Rome (1384–1440). Francesca was of a similar socialclass to Kempe, and in the early fifteenth century she dedicated herself to relieving Rome's poor and sick and begging for charity whilst also receiving a number of divine revelations, some of which show a marked influence of the spirituality of Catherine of Siena. She made herself voluntarily poor, rejected fine clothing, refused family
meanings are well suited to the conversation between the women and their individual
contributions therein. Ralȝeit alliterates with ryatus , an equally
‘problematic’ adjective (at least in reference to feminine behaviour), which
asserts that their speche is both uncontrolled and licentious.
The audience is lured into the wife’s impressive display of
rhetorical wit and bawdy invective and, in the process, the ‘proper’ behaviour
expected of her socialclass and gender is elided. The narrator’s interjection
Tory journals successfully denigrated the poet: he tells us that in the ‘Cockney School’ essays published in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine from 1817 onwards, Keats was ridiculed ‘in terms of his youth, his socialclass, cultural status and gender … his poetry demonstrated that he was “not capable of understanding”, and in this last respect his intellect was shown to be unformed, sickly, and “feminine” in character’.
Roe argues that this reviewer discredited Keats by using the terms of the Burkean paradigm of
Dickens’s increasing preoccupation with kinds and degrees of illiteracy allows him to foreground the relationship between language seen and language heard. His professional Readings, starting in 1858, were taken almost exclusively from his earlier, more readily audible work, while typographic case and other specifically visual aspects of language, are increasingly important in the later novels both as topics and as features of the text which may find the transition from handwriting to print and from print into speech difficult. In Bleak House, Jo the crossing sweeper wants his message to the world written ‘large’ because he deduces from ‘the great letters on the whitewashed wall’ – represented for us as ‘GEORGE’S SHOOTING GALLERY, ETC’ – that the size of letters carries meaning and helps meaning carry Betty Higdon, who says she is ‘not much of a hand at reading writing-hand, though I can read my Bible and most print’ tells the illiterate Mrs Boffin that young Sloppy ‘is a beautiful reader of a newspaper. He do the Police in different voices’. Dickens’s novels increasingly define themselves as designed primarily for readers rather than listeners, while social class is increasingly defined in terms of degrees literacy.
Deathbed narratives and devotional identities in the early seventeenth century
and didactic texts more recognisably belonging to the ars moriendi tradition. While plays, scaffold speeches, martyrologies and ballads scripted the deaths of historical characters, convicted felons, heretics and saints, deathbed narratives made available to a growing reading public the final moments of a diverse range of ordinary Christian subjects.
This essay surveys a cross-section of deathbed narratives printed in English between 1592 and 1646, about individuals from a spectrum of socialclasses and
: Krimo occupies a physical place,
the theater stage, where young men of Maghrebi origins are traditionally
absent, confined as they are to the margins. Thus, like Marivaux who overturns class hierarchies and features the servants, the filmmaker chooses to
focalize his narration on an under-represented socialclass. In L’Esquive as in
La Faute à Voltaire, the filmmaker plays off our expectations to better confound them, replacing violence and precariousness with poetry and a taste
for the unknown, which can be found at the margins.
Kechiche’s first three films are
discovered and celebrated forms of classical poetry. As such they are
more indicative of post-medieval prejudice, about everything from
socialclass to Catholicism, than anything inherent in the medieval
genre. And it is precisely these inherited distinctions that we, informed
by the insights of post-structuralist thought, have learned to interrogate. Yet, popular romance has hardly benefited from the collapse of
the traditional hierarchies of aesthetic (and with it academic) judgement. There must be many reasons why. The slowness with which
the particular can come to serve as
the first stage of initiation into the world of learning.
There was also a socialclass dimension to his schooling at second level.
This is important because it shows that the regimes in Irish schools in
the 1940s and 1950s were not homogeneous. Much depended on the
religious order involved, as well as the socialclass and intellectual ability
of the pupils. Arguably, positive memories of school tend to be more
prevalent among many people who attended schools run by the religious
orders that generally served the middle class, both