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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