1. Brewer, D.S. Masculinities in Chaucer. Ed. Peter G. Beidler. Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk: St Edmundsbury Press Ltd, 1998. (Vlad Cretu)

     The second part of the book, Troilus and Criseyde, presents an analysis of masculinity as exemplified by Troilus. Dietrich, author of “’Slydyng’ Masculinity in the Four Portraits of Troilus” gives us four areas of analysis: Troilus’s masculine posturing, Troilus’s masculine vulnerability, Troius’s inability to sit “on his hors aright” and Troilus’s manhood outside the walls of Troy. In each portrait we notice that the process of self-governing generally defines Troilus’s masculinity – being of a male sex is not sufficient for being masculine. 
     Dietrich argues that up until the end of the book Troilus is severely feminized and that the only masculine characteristics he may have were given to the reader via Pandarus as he attempts to convince Criseyde to give in to Troilus. Troilus exists as in a play living a big act playing the role of a noble and powerful knight only to have his “masculinity” taken away by a simple glance from Criseyde. His deviation from masculinity is emphasized by the relationships with the other characters. Troilus is never really compared with other knights – Hector is more of a supreme knight – and the only interaction he has is with a female and her male pimp. As Troilus parades for Criseyde he also asks for her pity by maintaining his “command” by choosing to nod to Pandarus and directly ignore Criseyde – how could she say no to such a noble and strong warrior. Towards the end of the book, in the last Portrait presented, we witness a transformation of Troilus’s masculinity towards a more conventional form – he actively searches the battlefield for Diomede (a character that exemplifies traditional manliness) and battles with him. 

2. Chickering, Howell. “The Poetry of Suffering in Book V of Troilus.” Chaucer Review 34.3 (2000) 243-268. (Vlad Cretu)

 In this article Howell argues that “Interpretation of the Troilus” is uncontrollable” because the meaning is dependant on the readers chosen reaction to the poetry of Troilus’s suffering. Howell focuses his article on three speeches that appear in Book V because, Howell claims, it makes the reader to easily identify with Troilus’s suffering at a literal level, yet in the same time the reader is likely to distance from Troilus because of our foreknowledge of the text.
 The article is more valuable if one is to study the original Chaucer since it analyzes the text to its structural form. For example: “Her evasive "ambages" (see V, 897) here are supported by the bitter pathos of the rhyme "Criseyde"/"seyde," in which the poet sees her false speaking inside her very name, and which will recur twice more in Troilus's final speech (V, 1674-76, 1712-13). 
The original English and the manner in which was put together give an insight in how Chaucer engages the reader literally yet disengages the reader conceptually.  This is a great article for those interested in Chaucer and the story of Troilus expressed in a purely literal form.

3. Clark, S. L. and Wasserman, Julian N. “The Heart in Troilus and Criseyde: The Eye of the Breast, the Mirror of the Mind, the Jewel in its Setting.” The Chaucer Review 18:4 (1983): 316-325. (Chelsea Toby)

      Clark and Wasserman’s argument is in regard to the use of the term “heart”. It is based on the assumption that Chaucer places that term where he does for a purposeful reason. Under that assumption, they believe that, “the states or actions of a character’s heart—and, indeed, even the manner in which the character utilizes the word “heart”—become valid commentaries on Chaucer’s view of that character” (316-317). The word is also used many times by the characters in endearments, such as “my heart” and “sweet heart”. This becomes important in revealing the feelings of the characters at different times in the book. The authors point out that in Book III, both Troilus and Criseyde use those endearments frequently at a time when their love was at its peak. In contrast, in Book V Criseyde does not use the term “heart” the same way she did in Book III, “when Troilus was her heart and when his absence meant that both her heart was sorrowful in her breast as well as with her lover” (321). This signifies that Criseyde’s heart is no longer with Troilus. Furthermore, the exchange of hearts is symbolized by the exchange of gifts. Before Criseyde is taken away, she gives Troilus a ring and he gives her a brooch. By giving this brooch to Diomedes, Criseyde is signaling the end of their relationship, and also that, “the gift of jewelry has ceased to function as the gift of one’s heart” (323).

4. Cofer, Bernice Grace. “Chaucer’s Religious Consciousness In Troilus and Criseyde.”  Diss. University of Washington, 1938. (Michael Brennan)

      There is no doubting Chaucer’s religious consciousness in Troilus and Criseyde.  However, Bernice Grace Cofer thinks that conclusions, as to the extent of Chaucer’s religious consciousness, need to be drawn.  Cofer notes, that in Chaucer’s age to have been considered a well-cultured person one needed to possess a religious and reverent attitude and that Chaucer, evidently knowledgeable and deeply interested in both cultural and religious themes, emphasizes this religious attitude in Troilus and Criseyde.
 That Chaucer stressed a religious attitude is of course apparent in his countless religious allusions, especially to Catholic doctrine and practice.  Chaucer not only uses the name of Deity several hundred times, but he also references, sometimes explicitly and other times implicitly, The Apostles’ Creed, the Sacraments of penance and holy orders, the Ten Commandments, The Lord’s Prayer and all of the seven deadly sins.  In comparing Troilus and Criseyde to its main source, Boccaccio’s II Filostrato, Cofer concludes that Chaucer’s emphasis on a religious attitude serves two purposes.  For one, it fulfills a need that is not fulfilled by his predecessor’s, Boccaccio and the pagan writers: a need for a religious solution of hope and peace to life’s sorrows and hardships.  Humankind searches for happiness in love, but since human love is transitory and thus leads to sorrow and frustration, the only true and lasting love is divine love.  Chaucer’s second, and less personal, reason for emphasizing a religious attitude in Troilus and Criseyde is to express the religious attitudes that belong to the cultured-body of his day, hence the very characters that he is portraying.

5. Conlee, John W. “The Meaning of Troilus’ Ascension to the Eighth Sphere.” The Chaucer Review 7:1 (1972): 27-36. (Chelsea Toby)

      Conlee elaborates on three stanzas in the poem by giving his and other scholars’ views on Chaucer’s depiction of the afterlife and his choice to grant Troilus passage to the eighth sphere. Many of the discrepancies among scholars are due to the idea that Chaucer intended Troilus’ going to the eighth sphere as a reward. Those scholars that, “interpret the poem as embodying consistent Christian doctrine,” have trouble justifying the acceptance of a pagan into a Christian heaven (28). Others that interpret the sphere as a pure pagan afterlife are, “ignor[ing] the Christian implications which are undeniably present in the text” (30). 
      Conlee has devised his own interpretation based on the fact that, “many aspects of pagan immortality were absorbed into the Christian scheme,” while the scholars above are attempting to separate the two (30). He does this by comparing the pagan belief of sidereal immortality with the Christian meaning of the number eight. According to pagan sidereal immortality, a soul originates in the eighth sphere and is then born after it goes through the seven spheres, inheriting different characteristics from each. After death, the soul goes through the spheres in reverse, being purified by the removal of those characteristics until the eighth sphere is again reached. According to the Christian symbolism of numbers, the number eight means, “the completion of a cycle or a return to the beginning; purification; and immortality, eternity, and eternal salvation” (34). The similarities between the two seem obvious to Conlee, for, “both suggest the completion of a cycle, both suggest purification after uncleanness, both suggest the eternal after the mutable, and both suggest the reception of true felicity” (35). He solves the problems that the other scholars face by making this connection between pagan and Christian beliefs, and that it’s possible that Chaucer integrated both sets of beliefs into those stanzas. 

6. Freiwald, Leah Rieber. “Swych Love of Frendes: Pandarus and Troilus.” The Chaucer Review 6:4: 120-129. (Marcus Bateman)

      This article puts forth a chronology of events that attempts to parallel the relationship between Troilus and Criseyde with the friendship of Troilus and Pandarus.  Freiwald states “the growth and decline of their [Troilus and Pandarus] affection forms a continuing ironic commentary on the love affair.  As a result, what Chaucer reveals about the impermanence of Troilus and Criseyde’s love extends to include the friendship of Pandarus and Troilus” (120).  The article goes on to define the type of friendship, as defined by Aristotle, that Pandarus and Troilus have together.  Freiwald suggests that Pandarus and Troilus have an “imperfect” friendship, which is defined by Aristotle as “the kind of friendship which occurs when two partners expect pleasure or utility to result from their association” (122).  The article argues that the relationship and friendship go through three phases and that they are paralleled throughout.  “These stages parallel the course of the love affair, and they may be divided as follows: first, a testing period where Pandarus and Troilus establish the terms of their alliance; next, a very satisfying middle period when success in the love affair seems probable, culminating in a joyful time immediately after the union of the lovers; then a strained, difficult period marked by quarreling and increasing estrangement” (125).  In the end, both relationships were “imperfect” and therefore failed.  I agree with Freiwald’s position in analyzing Troilus and Criseyde’s relationship and Troilus and Pandarus’s friendship.  The parallels between the two are strong and invite the reader to analyze them as such. 

7. Gaylord, Alan T.  “The Lesson of the Troilus: Chastisement and Correction.” Chaucer Studies 111 Essays on Troilus and Criseyde.  New Jersey 1979. (Andrea Clark)

     Gaylord’s mission in this essay is to account for the meaning of the Troilus by describing its experience as a lesson.  He states that the end of the lesson is wisdom, which the reader should take to be a condition of emotional and intellectual satisfaction, a state of rest after a struggle or a journey, and not a ranked series of axioms.  Therefore, it will not do to describe the lesson as a moral sentence, set down at one place.  The ending of the Troilus is the end of the lesson; and one cannot pass the course, however, by reading it alone.
 The purpose of this is not to only gain wholeness but to also gain self-conscious meditative relaxation.  The veil of fiction is parted, the exemplary force of the narrative realized.  It one has leaned this lesson, then they understand the true meaning of the story but if one has not learned the one is restless and unable to find the mediated relaxation. 
      In this essay Gaylord begins by identifying the major critical responses that he believes are misleading.  Then he reviews the lesson of Troilus as he thinks Chaucer intended and finally discuss one example of frustrated chastisement within the poem and then conclude with an analysis of Chaucer’s final appeal for correction.

8. Helterman, Jeffrey. “The Masks of Love in Troilus and Criseyde.” Comparative Literature 26.1 (1974): 14-31. (Tim Jackson)

     Although there is no doubt that love plays a central role in Chaucer’s “Troilus and Criseyde”, the complexity of the relationships within the work provides a seemingly endless stream of analytical possibilities. In his article “The Masks of Love in Troilus and Criseyde” Jeffrey Helterman makes a convincing argument love, as it is encountered within “Troilus and Criseyde”, cannot be properly viewed without an understanding of not only its stages but also when (or whether) the characters enter these stages. Helterman believes that the love between Troilus and Criseyde takes it shape in three stages. In the first stage, Troilus views Criseyde as nothing more than an object of courtly love ideals sown by Pandarus; the author sees this love as being shared by all three of the aforementioned characters, as at this level they are all equally involved. The second stage sees a more profound advancement, as it is characterized by physical love being given an overpowering metaphysical value; this value is so powerful that it leads to a sense of contentment and stability in the lover’s world. Obviously Troilus and Criseyde advance to this level without Pandarus, as the physical connection is paramount. The third and final stage outlined by Helterman is interesting, as he clearly states that Troilus is the only character to experience it. In this final iteration, Troilus moves past the abstract love of the second stage to an unqualified love of Criseyde herself. The author makes liberal use of the term “Petrachist”, referring to the Italian scholar Francesco Petrarch; in utilizing Petrarch’s influence as a lens through which to view Chaucer’s work Helterman does somewhat narrow the reader’s interpretation of love (a decidedly broad and far-reaching concept). Helterman’s first stage is fairly easy to agree with, but he does raise an interesting concept: Troilus and Pandarus forcing rhetoric on Criseyde causes her to lose any mental division between rhetorical love and love itself. This muddling, compounded with Criseyde’s precarious position within Troy, and subsequently causes her to latch on to the stability inherent to the second stage of love. The rhetoric hooks Criseyde on the concept of courtly love, while soon she becomes addicted to the stability of the situation and asserts this need in agreeing to be sent to the Greeks. Out of the three stages mentioned, Troilus’ ascension to a higher level of love is the most vague but also the most plausible. It seems that Helterman’s general sentiment in this area is to the effect that love cannot be fully realized until it is lost. Indeed there are examples of this in Chaucer’s text (Troilus’ walking the streets comes to mind); Troilus rises above because he is able to separate the woman from the ideal and realize that he places more value on the woman. Another intriguing concept raised is Pandarus’ ruining Criseyde through his rhetoric, i.e. he forces her to love not for love itself but to save Troilus. All in all, Helterman’s analysis of love in “Troilus and Criseyde” is insightful; through the creation of “stages” and the explanation of how each character is linked to the process sheds some light on the emotions motivating their action within the plot. 

9. Hodges, Laura F. “Sartorial Signs in Troilus and Criseyde.” The Chaucer Review 35:1 (2000): 223-247. (Chelsea Toby)

      I found this article to be very interesting because it brings an aspect of the poem to my attention that I hadn’t even thought about or noticed after reading it. This aspect is how each character is represented through the attire Chaucer describes them in. Hodges argues that each character has a “signature costume or garment” and that the signature garment, along with the changing of this garment, gives insight to the characters themselves.
      Hodges goes into detail about the attire of the two main characters, Criseyde and Troilus. According to her, Criseyde’s signature garment is widow’s weeds, which consist of a dark robe, a black veil covering a white veil, and finally a white wimple. Hodges points out that these items and their colors are significant because of their connection to England during medieval times. Somber colors were worn during that time to signify that one was in mourning. A wimple was worn by widows and represented prudence. The fact that Criseyde was wearing these garments reveals that she knows she must, as a widow, dress in customary attire to be appropriate and to define her social status. She also knows that if she does not follow custom, she will not be under Hector’s protection. Hodges then goes on to describe Troilus’ signature garments as his arms and armor, signifying his role as the, “shield of Troy; his bloody sword provid[ing] safety for Troy” (229). 
      Hodges argument continues with her interpretation of the change of these garments as a reflection of changes in the characters. By removing her clothes (widow’s weeds) when in the bedchamber, Criseyde is giving up her prudent nature to be with Troilus. Also, while in the Greek camp, Chaucer does not describe Criseyde as wearing widow’s weeds. Instead, she is described as wearing gloves and, most importantly for Hodges argument, a gold ribbon in her hair.  Hodges argues that, “a hairstyle [like] that has nothing to do with the mourning practice,” and therefore reflects Criseyde’s acceptance of Diomedes as her new lover and protector (243). Similar to Criseyde’s removal of her widow’s weeds, Troilus wishes to dispose of his armor after Criseyde’s departure. This action reflects his feelings of sorrow and despair. Troilus also wants to use his sword to kill himself when he thinks that Criseyde is dead. This, “depict[s] arms and armor as ineffectual and vulnerable,” thus depicting Troilus’ character the same way, when arms and armor, “ordinarily convey the idea of valiance, prowess, and courage” (239).

10. Pugh, Tison. “Queer Pandarus? Silence and Sexual Ambiguity in Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde.” Philological Quarterly 80:1 (2001): 17-36. (Marcus Bateman)

      This article is interesting because it offers a view of Pandarus and Troilus’ relationship that was seldom found in other article relating to the poem.  Pugh’s goal in this article is “to demonstrate that the text refuses to disallow a queer reading of their [Troilus and Pandarus] friendship” (1).  He notes that queer love does not necessarily involve queer sex, and that Pandarus’s pandering may have been the only way to express his affections for Troilus (11).  He uses interesting ideas such as historical context and literary silences, in conjunction with a careful reading, in order to develop his interesting and somewhat shocking thesis. 
 Pugh makes a point to discuss the historical context in which Chaucer was writing Troilus and Criseyde.  He writes that Chaucer’s depiction of “the relationship between a queer advisor and a young nobleman finds a contemporary parallel when we remember that Richard II was accused of being led astray by “obscene intimacies” [sodomy] with his advisors” (2).  Richard II was accused of these “obscene intimacies” with one of his best friends and most trusted advisors, Robert de Vere, whom he appointed Duke of Ireland in 1386.  Pugh notes that “we see in the relationships between Richard and de Vere and Troilus and Pandarus that de Vere and Pandarus have a great deal of influence over their friends and that this influence contains strong hints of sexuality” (2). 
      Assuming Pandarus can be read as queer, Pugh reads many passages as appearing homoerotic and also interprets Pandarus’s many silences at key moments to contain hints of homoeroticism.  He adds into the article an insightful declaration by Pierre Macherey, stating “by speech, silence becomes the center and principle of expression, its vanishing point.  Speech eventually has nothing more to tell us: we investigate the silence, for it is the silence that is doing the speaking” (4).  I find this insightful because it brought about an entirely new method of analyzing a reading for me in which that which is not said can be interpreted in the same fashion as the written word.  Chaucer does not answer many of the questions posed by Pandarus and for Pugh, this authorial silence “invites the reader to create Pandarus according to his or her individual desires” (5).  These silences allow for the queer interpretation of Pandarus.  Pugh gives many examples, one such example being that Troilus assumes Pandarus’s love interest is a woman; yet, Pandarus’s silence on the topic and no mention of a woman both give authority to the reader to freely interpret the text. 
 I enjoy this article because it offers an interesting analysis of a character that most other articles I read assumed was heterosexual.  Pugh effectively uses history and a close reading to support his well-developed thesis.  I especially enjoy the challenge proposed in the conclusion of the article in which Pugh challenges the reader to “prove that Pandarus is heterosexual” (12).  He follows with “Chaucer’s silences will prove such a task only too difficult, as the lover whom Pandarus promises never emerges to confirm or deny any readerly suspicions” (12). 

11. Spearing, A.C.  Chaucer: Troilus and Criseyde. New York: [--], 1964. (Andrea Clark)

     This is a book that helps the interpretation behind the aspect of Troilus and Criseyde.  Troilus and Criseyde, the greatest single work of England’s greatest medieval poet, is a poem of paradoxes.  A translation and yet profoundly original; a celebration of sexual live, which yet ends in somber rejection of all human passions; a tragedy of the double sorwe of Troilus, which impresses most readers rather by its tragicomic insights into Criseyde and Pandarus; a work written for transient oral performance, yet one which finally exists as a book to be pondered by learned and thoughtful readers; a deeply secular and pervasively religious poem (1).  It is argued that Troilus and Criseyde account for all of the contradictions and even more, and there is no interpretive proclamation that can be made without there being an argument from the opposite side. 
     This book makes it a point that to be able to fully understand the aspects behind Troilus and Criseyde, the reader needs to begin be asking what kind of work it is, if only to avoid the false expectations that modern readers may bring to it, with consequent misunderstanding and disappointments.  In order to do so the reader must be familiar with the premises behind the author and when doing so the reading will be mush more rewarding.  This book touches base on the aspects behind Chaucer, poetry, romance, love, the characters and feminism.  I find this particular book very useful in the understanding of Chaucer and medieval poets.

12. Steinberg, Diane Vanner. “We Do Usen Here No Wommen for To Selle: Embodiment of Social Practices in Troilus and Criseyde.” The Chaucer Review 29:3: 259-273.  (Marcus Bateman)

      This article offers an interesting perspective on the place of women in both Trojan and Greek society and the use of walls in the poem to signify feminine areas from masculine areas.  Steinberg states that “these two distinct spaces [Trojan and Greek] are gendered feminine and masculine, respectively, and each reflects somewhat different ideologies and practices concerning women’s status as objects that can be owned and thus subjected to commodification and exchange” (259). 
      Within the Trojan space, the walls protect the women from the war, considered masculine, and in turn from the Greeks (masculine).  “The walls that enclose Troy, and indeed the walls that enclose many of the spaces in the poem, attempt to shut out the war and the consciousness of war” (261).  Steinberg goes on to give examples of the great number of walls within the story that attempt to shut out the war in Troy and protect the women, who are normally behind the most walls (e.g. city walls, house walls, bedroom walls, bed curtains).  The most interesting part of the article comes when Steinberg suggests that Troilus and Troy itself are considered to be emasculated.  Troilus has been emasculated by love and the city emasculated by being a haven for luxury, love and gentleness.  “For the poem’s hero [Troilus], love becomes a debilitating and a feminizing experience” (264).  The article suggests that Troilus will be destroyed by love and the city by the Greeks due to this emasculation.  “To the Greek army, Troy has become the place of the “other”: a feminine, weak, decadent and declining civilization that must give place to a new, young, very aggressive and masculine warrior culture [Greece]” (270).
      The end of the article presents the idea that the downfall of the Trojans could be foreshadowed by the downfall of its main characters.  “In this poem, female bodies and feminine space do not hold out against masculine or martial intrusions.  Since Troilus and Hector are embodiments of the city itself, all are equally doomed to die” (271).  One begins to see the end of Troy when Hector and Troilus, the city’s protectors of feminine ways, die, and the Trojans begin to take on cultural elements that resemble Greek practices.  “The parliament’s turning Criseyde into an object of exchange was an early step in their own succumbing to the force of Greek ideas and culture.  It was, in fact, allowing through the gates of the city a “Trojan horse” of Greek practices concerning women and the places they may inhabit in society” (272).

13. Tatlock, J. S. P. “The People in Chaucer’s Troilus.” PMLA 56.1 (1941): 85-104. (Tim Jackson)

     Upon first reading J. S. P. Tatlock’s “The People in Chaucer’s Troilus”, it is tough to draw a bead on the paper’s true purpose; there seems to be equal amounts of both confident (almost aloof) character dissections and backpedaling declarations warning the readers that their interpretation of Chaucer’s work should be limited. Interestingly enough, this conflict provides a parallel to Tatlock’s ultimate theory: Chaucer’s “Troilus and Criseyde” provides a delicate but effective blend of romance and humanity, and it is this volatile mixture that gives the poem its appeal. Tatlock chooses an analysis of the story’s characters as an alley to proving his point, and he does so with mixed results. Certainly there are a number of points that are very effective; labeling Troilus as the “least lifelike” character in the story is a good place to begin. Tatlock questions his actions within the poem, specifically his ultimate inaction and self-pity when “stricken” with love. It seems quite unbelievable that such an accomplished warrior would act in such a manner, and Tatlock attributes this to Chaucer’s cultivation of Troilus as a romantic hero in an attempt to cater to his readers. In Tatlock’s eyes, Chaucer never created a hero more embodying the aspects of courtly love than Troilus; it is this embodiment of an ideal that limits the ultimate depth of the character. Still, for every good and solid idea displayed throughout Tatlock’s character analysis there are an equal number of assertions that seem to be quite shallow relative to their scholarly circumstance. The description of Pandarus provides a good example of this phenomenon; in his analysis Tatlock identifies Pandarus as a character whose motivations lie in the gratification of his talents, i.e. he is satisfied because his position of go between best suits his mix of talents and limitations. To view Pandarus in such a simple light provides clarity but discounts the possibilities for alternative motivations, not to mention the idea that Chaucer uses Pandarus as a direct embodiment of the narrator himself. Upon such an accusation Tatlock would likely revert to his maxim of avoiding excessive character exactions as in his view they blur the ultimate beauty of the story itself; this aversion to depth and uncertainty can only be viewed as a critical “cop-out”. Tatlock’s work is predicated on order and linearity (he literally references a linear equation at one point), and his dedication to staying on point clashes with the ultimate goal of the work itself. Although it is easy to follow from a reader’s perspective, the sacrifice of depth for readability is a tough deal to accept. Regardless of these difficulties, Tatlock does a good job of setting the score; the elements each character appealing to the aristocratic audience for each are, for the most part, effectively countered with their humanistic mirrors. 

14. Warren, Victoria. “(Mis)Reading the “Text” of Criseyde: Context and Identity in Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde.”  The Chaucer Review 36.1 (2001): 1-15. (Michael Brennan)

     Victoria Warren thinks that the majority of critics have been too eager to condemn Criseyde and far too quick to sympathize with Troilus.  Even the minority of critics who have questioned the character of Troilus have failed to analyze deeper and explain why Troilus fails as a lover and as a person. Warren attempts to explain Troilus’ failings in this essay.
      For Warren, as I agree, Troilus fails as both a lover and as a person primarily because he fails to acknowledge Criseyde and other individuals in their personal contexts; in fact, due to his self-absorption and insularity (he is portrayed as spending most of his time in his bedroom) he rarely even sees people living in their contexts.  And failing to recognize their contexts, Troilus is prevented from accurately reading their identities or “texts.”  Warren bases her argument on the work of Michel Foucault, who argued that in order to understand a text it must be studied not only in terms of its “expressive value” but also in terms of its “mode of existence” and “social relationships.”   However, Troilus, throughout his many isolated bedroom musings, objectifies and abstracts Criseyde, seeing her only in terms of her “expressive value.”  He neglects her subjective identity and instead creates an ideal image of her; thus, he authors his own text of Criseyde.  To Warren, the Troilus-based text not only distorts Troilus’ conception of Criseyde but it also affects the critics, who tend to honor Troilus as the tragic hero and condemn Criseyde as self-loving and deceitful.
      Judging Criseyde based on Troilus’ reading, Warren continues to argue, is a mistake; the Troilus-based text is incongruous with Chaucer’s portrayal of her.  Although Criseyde is objectified in Troilus’ text, there are several instances where Chaucer not only presents her as having a subjective identity, but even allows her point of view to carry the scene.  One example is in Book II after Pandarus first informs Criseyde about Troilus; Chaucer portrays Criseyde as an individual with her own will and personal thoughts.  Warren’s interpretation of Criseyde and judgment of Troilus is consistent with my own reading.  It is time for Troilus (and those critics who praise him and unjustly condemn Criseyde) to come out of the bedroom.

15. Waswo, Richard. “The Narrator of Troilus and Criseyde.” ELH 50.1 (1983): 1-25. (Tim Jackson)

     In looking at Richard Waswo’s “The Narrator of Troilus and Criseyde”, it can paradoxically be described with one word: complex. Complexity abounds within the work, and on multiple levels to boot; not only are the revealed influences, motivations, and executions of Chaucer complex, but the descriptions and theories asserted by Waswo are as well. Much of the work centers on the relevance of the epilogue in gaining a greater understanding of the story itself, specifically on the hotly debated issue of “the evocation of unstated values (2)”. According to Waswo, irony is the concept most used by previous critics in order to save the epilogue; it is in his description of what specific variety of irony is necessary for the evocation of unstated values that he reveals on of the building blocks of his collective theory. He labels this ironic mechanism the irony of complicity”, and it is based on knowledge held by the reader and author but completely lost on the narrator himself. This irony is hazardous in literature, as the tools needed to recognize it lie outside the text itself. Why include this definition? According to Waswo (and contrary to many of his fellow critics), this irony does not exist in “Troilus and Criseyde”. As a bridge into his dissection of the narrator’s true character, Waswo touts Chaucer’s ironies as being multiple in both direction and source…therefore falling outside the realm of traditional literary criticism.
     It does not take long for Waswo to drop the vague narrator terminology and begin referring to Chaucer by name; indeed, understanding of the latter leads directly to realization of the former. Chaucer is portrayed as a series of contradictions, putting on an air of superiority and inferiority simultaneously; upon this premise Waswo draws a striking similarity between the narrator and Pandarus (both are experts on the decorum of a non-accepting elite, both are gifted in strategy while not in execution). Wasco explains Chaucer’s talent for disorienting the audience through bombarding them with a series of contradictions as growing out of his instinctual need for survival. Chaucer did not have a defined role in the court of Richard II, as he was neither noble nor poor; in order to ensure his safety he was forced to stay ambivalent in nearly all situations. His mastery lies in his ultimate role of mediator between text and audience. In the climax of his argument, Waswo identifies Chaucer’s creating the ultimate anti-climax at the end of “Troilus and Criseyde”. The characters’ deepest desires are left unfulfilled, and Chaucer allows the story to dissolve into a series of unrelated disappointments. Therefore, as Waswo says, the epilogue is not a conclusion but rather an escape.
 If the proceeding description seems disjointed and somewhat aimless in its content, then my success has ultimately been achieved. Although Waswo does bring up a number of good points (specifically his further exploration of Pandarus as an expression of the narrator) there is a noticeable lack of cohesion; it seems that there is no true beginning or end to the thoughts presented. Certainly referring to the narrator simply as “Chaucer” (as he begins to do midway through the work) makes for an easier reading considering Waswo’s liberal use of historical circumstance, but it operates on a dreaded assumption of complicity. There is no guarantee that such a premise is undoubtedly true, but the bombardment of information forces the reader to accept such a premise in order to keep up. Complexity is a tough concept; Waswo does present an amazing variety of good evidence to back up his claims that are successful in presenting his intended message, but the complex structure of these points proving the story’s complexity (wow, that’s complex) does make for some confusion in the dissemination.