I have been studying worms. And cranes, salamanders, starlings, wasps and eagles. This is not, in fact, something that my veterinarian roommates have thrust upon me, but rather my syllabus for a literature course. And not just any Italian literature. I have been studying worms in the greatest Italian poem of all time: Dante's Divine Comedy.
As some of you may know, Dante is actually the person who got me started on this crazy adventure. We became good friends in high school, then, after seeing the Sistine Chapel for the first time the following summer, I knew I would have to come back. So when the opportunity to take Filologia Dantesca this semester at the University of Bologna came up, I jumped on it like the dolphins from Circle VIII, Bolgia V of Inferno.
Here's a brief overview on Dante. He lived in Florence in the late Middle Ages and then was exiled when his political party lost power. As part of his punishment, he banned many of his enemies to burn in the most beautifully detailed hell ever written. He then went on for 100 cantos imagining the first full-fledged Purgatory and then topping it off with his journey toward an indescribable divine realization in Heaven.
It's quite a bit to chew on. So a five week course on man's pilgrimage through eternity needs to be pretty focused. Professor Ledda (a short bald Italian man who wears Converse, jeans and a tie/jacket combo to class) decided to focus on animal similes in Dante. The idea is that animals in the Middle Ages had very specific habits and diverse meanings. Meanings that today have been long lost or proven completely ridiculous.
For example, the stork, know for it's motherly and
familial instincts, also tended to get pissed off at the whiny
chicky-poos; so, she would go ahead and kill them. The dad stork was
then known to come along, cut himself open and feed his dead babies his
blood, bringing them back to life. It's pretty gross, but it works
wonderfully as a metaphor for Christ.
Then there's the dove image. Peace and happiness right?
Not really. Doves were actually more connected to the pagan tradition
describing them as birds of Venus. They were lustful, always kissing
each other and they couldn't wait more than five minutes before they
felt the urge to race back to their nest and make sweet bird love.
They're Latin name actually means "cult of the loins".From ants to otters, we covered new animals everyday. Sometimes five lines would take up the entire two hour class period. Sometimes we'd read passages from medieval bestiaries in Latin and I would nod along like I understood. I loved every second of it.
Dante in English has nothing on Dante in Italian. It's incredible to me that a poet, who was one of the first to really move away from the Latin tradition, provided a basis for the entire language that I am now learning today. And he still has something to say. Even if you're not religiously or spiritually inclined, Dante captures in beautifully crafted poetry the world's thoughts on what it means to be human.
What does it mean to be on a "journey" through life?
How can we reconcile rationality in the face of the incomprehensible?
How can we really go about learning or even teaching for that matter?
When verbal communication fails us, how can we go about truly sharing our experiences with others?
And one of my favorite themes, what does it mean to truly love in the best way that we possibly can?
Giving my oral exam for this course was one of the most rewarding things I've done here so far. Sure I waited three hours for my turn nervously chewing off my fingernails, but it didn't even feel like an exam in the end. Professor Ledda and I spent just as much time talking about my own interests in Dante as we did on the test material. He asked me about what KU is like. I told him about my Shakespeare research. He told me about the guest lecture on Dante happening the following Thursday. I received a wonderful score and left his office with a personalized syllabus for the independent study I'm be doing with him over the next two months. As Dante would say...I can't even begin to tell you how happy I was.
Who knew studying worms could be so inspiring!
