General Prolouge:
I feel like there's not much I can say about the General Prologue that hasn't already been said six ways to Sunday. The classic approach to this section is all about estates satire, pulling from the three estates model, but several of the texts I've been reading of late comment that Chaucer's pilgrims do not quite fit that model, many of them occupying liminal spaces between two or all three "estates." This section is of course intriguing to read for the descriptions of the pilgrims, and I feel like I notice new things every time I come back to it. This reading, for example, was flavored by recent scholarship I've read, so the Merchant's "Flemish hat" really stood out to me, calling into question whether the Merchant is Flemish, which is possible, or just affecting Flemish behavior. The question, of course, is why in either case? I'm finding the reading from Butterfield appealing, that this putting on of Flemish apparel is affective behavior for mercantilism, but there are several possibilities for reading each pilgrim's description.
The Knight's Tale:
Good ol' Knight's Tale. Arcite and Palamon are imprisoned together but, upon seeing Emily from their prison cell, both fall in love with her which eventually leads to rivalry. This tale involves a fair amount of romance elements, in particular the "violence" with which seeing the lady strikes each knight. This could tie to medieval medical treatises that suggest that sight works by small particles of what is being seen actually entering the observer's eyes. Regardless, events eventually lead to Arcite and Palamon having an epic battle for Emily's hand, without any consideration of what Emily desires. The conflict really seems to be less about Emily and more as a matter of contention for these two male characters to mediate their homosocial bonds. Regardless, Arcite wins the fight but falls, taking a mortal wound. He tells Emily to marry Palamon, and then dies. It's cool though; every time Palamon kisses Emily he'll have to remember Arcite, which seems to be kind of the point anyway.
The Miller's Tale:
The Miller's Tale might be the most read of The Canterbury Tales, which I imagine is due to its regular anthologization and the desperation to assign texts that undergrads will actually read. A clever clerk, desiring to sleep with the carpenter's, his landlord, wife, Alisoun, develops a plan to convince said carpenter that a great flood will once again sweep the earth. The carpenter places himself in a boot in the inn's rafters, and while the carpenter thus sleeps the clerk is able to have his way with Alisoun. However, another local, Absolon, also desires Alisoun and comes a wooing while the clerk is still with Alisoun. After much playing of fun with Absolon, resulting in the kissing of an ass while it farts, Absolon returns, furious, with a hot poker from the blacksmith's shop and shoves it on the spot the clerk offers up for kissing. The bawdy and fablieux quality of this tale is heavily entertaining, but it says a great deal about the social cross section of the pilgrims, especially to have this tale immediately follow the Knight's. Also, the specific details about the clerk seem like specific digs at those who've engaged in similar educational pursuits. In sum, fun stuff.
The Reeve's Tale:
The Reeve's Tale comes in direct response to the Miller, as the Reeve takes offense at the depiction of clerk's in The Miller's Tale, and this tale shows a thieving miller getting his comeuppance. It seems somewhat straightforward: two students show up to get their grain milled, and realize they've been hoodwinked. They then set out to repay the crafty miller, by staying the night and having their way with his wife and daughter. With the daughter's help they even manage to leave with a fair amount of grain, thus fully "queting" the miller. This is the first of the pilgrims who reacts to another tale and seems to cater their tale accordingly, which is interesting when considering the frame narrative as a whole.
The Cook's Tale:
The Cook's Tale is more interesting for its attempt at one-up-manship than the tale itself. After the Reeve concludes his tale, the Cook basically answers with "you think that miller got off bad? Let me tell you..." The Cook starts up a tale involving a great deal of apparent ribaldry, or at least the potential thereof, but never finishes. There's a fair bit of scholarly contention over whether the tale was intended to end unfinished or not, but this is in the end all we ever get of the Cook; the host calls on him later to tell a tale, but he's too drunk to do so.
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