Bruce Thomas Boehrer

Animal Characters argues that the modern conception of literary subjectivity, and with it, the rise of the novel, develops alongside the increasing denial of literary subjectivity to nonhumans. Boehner follows his argument, more or less explicitly, by tracking the early Modern, chiefly English, discursive fortunes of several kinds of animals—horses, parrots, cats, turkeys, and sheep—in the works of, among other authors, Ariosto, Cervantes, and Tasso; Milton, Middleton, and Shakespeare; Rabelais and Cavendish; and several lesser known works such as Gammer Gurton's Needle.

The general tendency in literary representations of animals between 1400 and 1700 is one in which admiration gives way to disparagement. Like Bayard of the Quatre fils Aymon, Arondel of Bevis of Hampton, or Bucephalous of the Alexander legend, the loyal Baiardo of Orlando furioso is a chivalrous horse, a heroic character in his own right with his own motivations and desires. Shakespeare's Richard II, by contrast, presents a depersonalized horse indifferent to whatever king chooses to ride it, while Cervantes represents the utter collapse of the equine chivalric tradition. The parrot suffers a similar decline due to its semiotic utility for religious sectarianism. Long praised for its intelligence and splendor, the parrot ends up as an absurd luxury capable only of automatic, uncomprehending repetition. In this, the parrot, rendered ape-like, became an emblematic Papist, nominally Christian but lacking any understanding of its own faith. Cats too suffer from religious sectarianism, far more literally than did parrots. Even at the very moment when cats begin to be generally accepted as domestic companions, they become—or, in Boehrer's folkloric argument, remain—the frequent objects of ritual torture, sometimes practiced out of contempt for Catholics or High-Church Anglicans, sometimes practiced in a way that virtually transubstantiated the cat's suffering body, rendering its victimization redemptive. For their part, turkeys suffer the fate of becoming declassé. When turkeys first appeared in Europe, gourmands admired it as much for its glorious plumage and dignified bearing as for its tasty flesh. Europe finally had a palatable peacock. However, as the European population of turkeys increased, and as they ceased to be consumed only by the wealthy, attitudes towards turkeys shifted from admiration to contempt; this process may be compared to what happened to the medieval pig, as thoroughly illustrated by Michel Pastoureau (“La chasse au sanglier: histoire d'une dévalorisation (IVe-XIVe siècle),” in La chasse au Moyen âge: société, traités, symboles, ed. Agostino Paravicini Bagliani and Baudouin van den Abeele [2000]: 7-23). By the eighteenth century, turkeys were held to be as stupid and gluttonous as the rabble whose tables they graced. The penultimate chapter concerns sheep, animals so laden with symbolism as to experience what Boehner calls “the opposite of reification,” where “real sheep lo[st] their materiality and [were] reconstituted within the realm of the symbolic” (181). The final, brief chapter argues that the animal-men of Margaret Cavendish's The Blazing World should be understood primarily as figures created for a satirical struggle both against the Royal Society and the lower classes.

A short book that covers so much ground can do only so much. Nonetheless, I wish that Boehner had solidified his arguments about medieval to modern discursive shifts in animal character by engaging with the longer tradition of animal satire, fables like Ramon Llull's Llibre de les bèsties or beast epics like Ysengrimus; that he had engaged more with other discursive studies of animals and of eating, such as those by Douglas Gray, Erica Fudge, and Sara Lipton on cats and those by Allen Grieco and Bruno Laurioux on food and social class; that he had been far more suspicious about Frazer and Sebillot's antiquated characterization of animal rituals as vestigial paganism; that he had relied less on literature and more on medieval and early modern religious and philosophical teaching to discern developments in the mutually reliant categories of “animal” and “human”; and finally that he had been more inspired by the posthumanist imperative of critical animal theory. For example, any critical treatment of elite horsemanship should take as its ground Jeffrey Jerome Cohen's Deleuzoguattarian discussion of the “chivalric circuit” in Medieval Identity Machines (2003). To not use, or only to glance at, such work is to remain within the very humanist tradition the book ought to have been critiquing.

(look for this review, in some form, in a forthcoming Renaissance Quarterly)… (lisätietoja)