Jonathan Goldberg, "Queering the Renaissance" (Book Note)

 

In the introduction to "Queering the Renaissance," Jonathan Goldberg elucidates that the volume doesn't merely provide a glimpse into marginal or shadowy activities but endeavors to redefine the center. To "queer the Renaissance," as Goldberg and the other contributors define it, doesn't entail discovering homosexuals in the Renaissance period. Instead, it involves a focus on homoerotic relations within the context of gender and the powerful social structures that shape sexual difference, such as reproduction and familial structures. The goal is to study the Renaissance with a keen awareness of the diverse acts that can be sexualized and the fluid boundaries between texts, across national and generic borders.

 

"Queering the Renaissance" masterfully demonstrates the centrality of homoerotic behavior and desire in the early modern period, offering essential contributions to scholarship that often interprets literature and history from that era through the lens of contemporary discursive formulations of sexuality. The collection's individual essays cover a wide range of canonical and non-canonical texts and genres. The book provides contextualization through a thoughtful afterword by historian Margaret Hunt, who examines issues and methodologies in gay and lesbian historiography. Additionally, legal scholar Janet Halley's essay explores the connections between early modern sodomy history and the 1986 Supreme Court case, Bowers v. Hardwick.

 

Among the reprinted essays, Alan Bray's "Homosexuality and the Signs of Male Friendship in Elizabethan England" revisits early modern discourses of friendship and sodomy, while Valerie Traub's "The (In)Significance of 'Lesbian' Desire in Early Modern England" delves into anxieties surrounding female same-sex eroticism in both plays and gynecological tracts. Dorothy Stephens' "Into Other Arms: Amoret's Evasion" explores how Spenser's "The Faerie Queene" opens up possibilities for a female world beyond male control. Finally, Michael Warner's "New English Sodom" examines how English erotic discourses influenced Puritan New England and American religious history.

The new essays in the collection make distinct contributions that enrich our understanding of early modern erotics. Jeff Masten and Marcie Frank delve into the connection between early modern erotics and the emergence of the patriarchal author, while Graham Hammill uncovers links between Bacon's anal purging and the development of empirical science. Donald Mager, Forrest Tyler Stevens, and Elizabeth Pittenger examine Tudor discourses of desire and sodomy in works by John Bale, Erasmus, and Nicholas Udall. Alan K. Smith extends the collection's scope into the Italian Renaissance, while Carla Freccero explores France during Marguerite de Navarre's time. Goldberg himself delves into the anus as the locus of desire in "Romeo and Juliet," and Richard Rambuss provides a compelling analysis of homoeroticism in early English religious poetry, critiquing earlier critics' heterosexist bias.

 

These essays share a commitment to understanding early modern sexuality within its sociohistorical context. They argue persuasively for a rigorous, historicized reading of (homo)eroticism during this period and criticize frameworks that stigmatize or essentialize early modern sexuality. Future scholars of early modern sexuality will need to engage with these conclusions or risk appearing ignorant of the field's complexities.

 

However, the book's emphasis on defining acceptable boundaries of "queer" scholarship may be too stringent, as it centers too squarely on the question of what it means to "really queer" the Renaissance. While this issue is central to queer historiography, some contributors critique certain strands of gay historiography for focusing exclusively on the rise of homosexual identities and subcultures. They argue that this narrow focus inadvertently contributes to environments where decisions like Bowers v. Hardwick can thrive. It's worth noting that the Supreme Court and present regimes of power haven't relied on gay and lesbian historians to foster homophobic abuse. Such "queerer-than-thou" thinking risks polarizing rather than facilitating constructive debate around essentialism and constructionism.

More importantly, the polemics of this critique obscure the collection's underlying assumption that during the Renaissance, same-sex sexuality wasn't perceived as "strange," as articulated by Jeff Masten (303). The prevailing notion is that same-sex behavior was either fully integrated into the sociohistorical context of the period or seen as disruptive sodomy. While Queering the Renaissance presents compelling evidence to support this idea, there's credible evidence suggesting that some same-sex behavior wasn't considered sodomitical. However, these essays often overlook or dismiss such evidence.

For instance, Elizabeth Pittenger's essay skillfully navigates the complexities of textual evidence and reality in Nicholas Udall's case. Udall, a playwright and headmaster of Eton, was allegedly dismissed for buggering a student, yet faced no other consequences. Pittenger suggests that an open secret, a tacit social agreement not to acknowledge the known behavior, may have allowed Udall to be seen as a respected figure despite the allegations. However, Pittenger assumes that homosexuality in the period was a nonentity, leading her to focus on deconstructing the open secret rather than exploring the implications of a potentially legible homoeroticism in Udall's case.

This tendency to render homoeroticism illegible due to preconceived notions hampers critical readings of texts that may hint at erotic practices as contained disruptions within the social field of the period. Certain texts, like transvestite comedies or satires, which could shed light on these practices, are notably absent from Queering the Renaissance. The danger of assuming there was no "strange" sexuality in the period is evident in Valerie Traub's analysis, which shows how the category of sodomy effectively erases female homoeroticism from both early modern discourse and contemporary recovery efforts.

Traub's work underscores the limitations of relying solely on categories like sodomy and highlights the need to explore other erotic possibilities. While the distinction between universalizing and essentializing approaches to early modern sexuality is crucial, Traub's findings suggest it may be more nuanced than initially presumed. Queering the Renaissance, while showcasing constructionist politics and poststructuralist practice, maintains this distinction rigidly, indicating its limitations despite its scholarly contributions to queer studies.

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