In this essay Corinne Saunders explores the secular genre most often associated with women, that of medieval romance, but also challenges the notion of romance as a womenߣs genre. While women were patrons, owners, readers, and even writers of courtly romances, the picture is complex: romances were often addressed to mixed audiences and read publicly rather than privately, and it is impossible to know for certain how women responded to the romance narratives that they encountered. Focusing on three central romance themes-- love and consent, virtuous suffering, and magic and enchantment ߝ this essay explores the imaginative spaces that female protagonists inhabit and the agency they demonstrate, and suggests how these might connect to ideals of Christian virtue, the constraints imposed on women by chivalry, and perhaps to the lived experiences of medieval women. Examples drawn from a range of Middle English romances, from Sir Orfeo, King Horn and Havelok the Dane to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight to Thomas Maloryߣs Morte Darthur at the very end of the period, show medieval romance as the locus of dialogue and debate about women and their place in medieval society and culture.

The introduction explores womenߣs authorship and addresses the range of works by or attributed to women that were in circulation in England in the Middle Ages in the context of their contributions to a multilingual and inclusive literary culture. It examines the importance of collaboration, arguing that womenߣs writings may be collaborative in different ways: through amanuenses, through translation and adaptation, and through their historical and literary relationships with the men who write their lives. It explores other collaborative aspects of womenߣs literary culture, including womenߣs contributions as patrons, scribes, readers, and subjects of texts. It considers the importance of womenߣs religious communities, as well as the ways in which devotional books were owned by women and exchanged between nuns and by lay women, and it considers the active engagement of women with secular writing as owners and commissioners of books as well as writers. It argues that English womenߣs networks extend from Britain to the Continent and beyond.

Chaucer treats the subject of love in many forms and across genres from fabliau to romance, with a unique variety and flexibility. His works draw on classical, continental and English traditions; on courtly and chivalric ideals and practices; and the tropes of Christianity. It is often in the reshaping, adapting and undercutting of material and motifs that the originality of Chaucer’s works lies. In exploring love, Chaucer also probes the psychology of loss and grief, the physiology of love, the paradoxes of fin’ amor, and the ways in which love can open onto the sublime. Chaucer’s treatment of love is intimately connected with questions of gender, in particular, the possibilities of female agency and voice. This essay makes reference to a range of Chaucer’s works, in the context of their sources and analogues, but focuses in particular on his romance narratives, The Book of the Duchess, The Legend of Good Women, The Knight’s Tale and Troilus and Criseyde.

THE MATERIAL AND LITERARY WORLDS of the medieval period remain richly alive in the twenty-first century. Can lived inner experience also speak across the centuries? Julia Boffey describes evocatively ‘the difficulty of writing about individual inner lives without many of the written sources available for more recent periods’; yet, she suggests, ‘the pendulum may be swinging the other way’. Boffey's recent research has extended her seminal work on the fifteenth century to chronicle and life-writing. The Book of Margery Kempe speaks in unique ways to the exploration of inner lives, as well as to Boffey's interests in the intellectual contexts of books. It is a book of feeling, shaped by but also startlingly different from the books Kempe knew. Its powerful affect has surprised, compelled and alienated its readers. ‘Wondirful revelacyons’, the moving of the soul through visionary experience, are the subject of Kempe's narrative. The Book is shaped by the struggle to discern the cause and meaning of such experience, and the challenge to interpret and convey it. Read as an inner life, it is newly animated.

Reading Kempe

The anxieties and risks of Kempe's book have coloured readers’ perceptions, sometimes evoking unease. When rediscovered in 1934, the Book proved startlingly different from the pamphlet of extracts printed by Wynkyn de Worde (c.1501, STC 14924), reprinted by Henry Pepwell as one of seven mystical treatises in The Cell of Self-Knowledge (1521, STC 20972). Pepwell's characterization of Margery as ‘devout ancress’ was difficult for Hope Emily Allen, one of her first editors, to sustain: ‘[the Book] does give remarkably elevated spiritual passages, but they are interspersed with others highly fanatical’. Allen uses theories of Kempe as neurotic to explain her ‘suggestibility’ and reflection of ‘the highly spiritualised ideals of piety in her world’. Twentiethcentury feminist scholarship, eager to discard the label ‘hysteric’, shifted the focus from interior to exterior, to claim Kempe as proto-feminist, a woman who refused to ‘go spynne and carde [wool] as other women don’ (4330–1).