Allow me to point you to two older convener’s posts for The Decameron. I’m especially drawn to the following questions:
What does it mean that Boccaccio directly addresses a female reading public at the outset? How might this invocation — and the predominance of female characters — give us meaningful inroads to discuss gender and gendered bodies in the selections you’ve read so far.
What do you make of the contrast between the morbid plague and the peaceful garden? Is storytelling a form of escape or a form of talk therapy for the brigata, something with salutary effects?
We’ve talked a little bit about the function of theodicy in contexts we’ve examined so far. How could a just God allow such things to be? What explanations might be required to preserve a sense of God’s omnipotence or benevolence? The Decameron also allows us to consider another set of explanations: Fortune.
From Brown University’s awesome Decameron site:
Fortuna is a classic literary motif that along with wit and love represents one of the main themes of the Decameron. Medieval society was greatly interested in the workings of Lady Fortune. Most of the stories told by the Brigata members entail instances of Fortune because adventures by defintion are usually the product of fateful encounters. Fortune is usually kind in the Novellas, except for Day 4, bringing characters in contact with the right people at the right time, or more often, at the right place at the right time. In some of the stories, the protagonists are able to change the course of fate by using wit, deception or undergoing a clever action to escape harm, punishment or loss of love. In other stories, fate has total control over the characters and dictates the course of the Novella. In the end, Fortune usually brings lovers together either for life, or a few precious nights.
What kind of explanation is this? Just a way to ease survivor’s guilt?
Finally, a question about government. What happens when Pampinea declares it necessary to “choose a leader”? (20). What kind of government does she aim to instate?
In a way, looking at how the ten men and women set up a society in their palace reminded me of Mad Max. In a world (seemingly) on the brink of extinction, a group of people set up refuge at a sanctuary. Certain death seems to be creeping up on them – lack of water in Mad Max, the Black Death in Decameron – and in order to forget what may happen, people set up their own system. In Mad Max, there is an entire ritual around the concept of water, and practices and rituals reminiscent of old tribal traditions maintains the social hierarchy. In Decameron, the noblemen and women decide on a leader, in a manner much like the society they just left behind. What’s the point of these people acting in such a manner? I think it’s because they seek order in disorder, and use that resemblance of a previous structure to keep themselves isolated, elusive from whatever consequences might await them. In a way, it could be looked at as escapism, and in a way, as temporary therapy, a desperate struggle like everyone else – but exhibited in a different way.
It what manner is this new structure similar to the previous society in which the Brigata lived? The newly constructed society is one that disrupts gender norms rather than reinforces a binary. Within this new society, it is not a man who immediately takes the role of a leader but rather a woman. However, one must reflect back to the moment of departure where it was suggested that the group need men to accompany them as well as keep them in line. As a result of these two moments, the reader is left with contrasting performances of gender: one that reinforces a ‘normal’ idea of gender and one that disrupts such a system. When one considers the way in which a new society is formed from an old structure one must also think to consider the ways in which they are different. In what ways does this newly constructed space enable characters to perform new acts? In what ways do disruptions in communities enable individuals to reconstruct their roles within societies? Both of these questions are worth considering in the context of events which reshape the environments in which we live.
When thinking about the societal structure of the Brigata and the previous society, one must keep in mind how the “reversed” gender roles, and how they contrast with preconceived notions of gender still remain within the overarching framework of master-servant, of the hierarchy that sets apart noblemen and commoners. In the Brigata, does the fact that women can be leaders also present any significance? Could it be that within such small a group, considerations of gender do not matter as much to the noblemen and women as long as their well-being is taken care of? In light of these considerations, perhaps we could touch upon how specific considerations of social roles morph according to different circumstances, while other considerations don’t change as much.
The Decameron is a novel made up of smaller stories, and so concerns itself with storytelling, nudging us to consider what purpose it serves in a space of respite during a plague-ridden age. I believe, beyond just offering the Brigata a means for therapeutic relief or curative pleasure, an additional explanation for the storytelling, and nested-narrative style is available to us. Specifically, this concerns memory and interpersonal relationships – all in service of identifying what is at stake for a society whose paradigmatic functioning teeters at the edge of collapse in the face of the plague.
Firstly, the stories told by the Brigata are things they remember, passed on to them from others, showing the importance of communicative linkages formed through acts storytelling. The kind of fellow feeling acts of storytelling foster is what is at risk in the face of a disease that upsets togetherness, as fear of infection or death reduce spaces where people can come together. Collective memory, and the stories we pass on, are the beating heart of a culture – traditions from Homeric epic to proverbial Igbo orature bear witness – but the plague disrupts this togetherness and the ability remember by tapping into a shared narrative basin. It kills and it disrupts, making it hard for the future to remember how a people once lived, at one time, in one place.
The Decameron is a novel made up of smaller stories, and so concerns itself with storytelling, nudging us to consider what purpose it serves in a space of respite during a plague-ridden age. I believe, beyond just offering the Brigata a means for therapeutic relief or curative pleasure, an additional explanation for the storytelling, and the nested-narrative style, is available to us. Specifically, my suggestion concerns memory and interpersonal relationships, which are subtextual implied in service of identifying what is at stake for a society whose paradigmatic functioning teeters at the edge of collapse in the face of the plague.
Firstly, the stories told by the Brigata are things they remember, passed on to them from others, showing the importance of communicative linkages formed through rituals (here, storytelling). The kind of fellow feeling acts of storytelling foster is what is at risk in the face of a disease that upsets togetherness, as fear of infection or death reduce spaces where people can come together. Collective memory, and the stories we pass on, are the beating heart of a culture – traditions from Homeric epic to proverbial Igbo orature bear witness – but the plague disrupts this togetherness and the ability remember by tapping into a shared narrative basin. It kills, sickens, and isolates, silencing the dynamic buzz of people communicating, making it hard for the future to remember how a people once lived, at one time, in one place, because without storytellers, how can we hear the words of the past?
Secondly, building off of the concept of collective memory, is the idea of the productive exchanges people engage in to run a functioning society – where relationships are fostered and the ideal of a greater good is perpetuated on the basis of loving thy neighbor enough to avoid a tragedy of the commons. But the web of interpersonally connected individuals and units of identity (such as family) need events to reiterate the togetherness we hopefully feel for others. Selflessness, and the potential for it, manifests in rituals such as storytelling, reminding people of the basis of their collective singularity in a society. Narrative and its potential to unite.
Upset by the selfishness of a plague where those who could escape, escaped, while the selfless generally succumbed for all their kindness by contracting contagion, the safety of the garden offers a setting to reestablish the traditional ordering of things. The Brigata resist the destabilization of a crumbling social order through their companionship and active storytelling, rekindling the embers of a particular narrative of how community “should” be, one that seems to be at risk in the outside world where traditions, such as that of burial, are crumbling.