Download PDF | Isabelle Levy - Jewish Literary Eros_ Between Poetry and Prose in the Medieval Mediterranean-Indiana University Press (2022).
210 Pages
FOREWORD
Raymond P. Scheindlin
JEWISH LITERARY EROS IS A BOOK ABOUT A theme, a form, and a culture.
The theme is, of course, love—or rather, writing about love. The form is a mixed one, combining poetry and prose, known as prosimetrum. The culture is medieval Jewish literature; this is not a simple phenomenon, for it was thoroughly interpenetrated by the non-Jewish cultures within which it flourished. Accordingly, the book deals extensively with two non-Jewish literary cultures: Arabic, which by the twelfth century—the book’s starting point—had long exerted a strong influence on Hebrew literature; and Romance literature (in Italian, French, Occitan, and Spanish), which was coming into being concurrently with the Hebrew literary works that are the book’s focus.
This study of the relationship between love and poetry in medieval Jewish prosimetra from the twelfth century on provides insights into attitudes toward poetry and fiction, as well as toward such varied subjects as ethics, autobiography, allegory, courting rituals, promiscuity, interreligious personal relationships, cross-dressing, and even blasphemy. By studying the literary forms and the varieties of love depicted in these works, we learn much more about social conditions and cultural values than might be expected from works that at first seem intended as pure entertainment.
This book is the first monographic study of medieval Jewish literature that weaves together all three cultural strands—Hebrew, Arabic, and Romance—on a basis of equality and kinship, treating Hebrew literature not merely as a product of the impact of a foreign literature on Jewish culture but as part of the same phenomenon that produced the non-Jewish literatures themselves. This is possible because the Jewish writings treated here, dating from the twelfth century and later, arose in a world in which a new literature was being born: the erotic writing in the vernaculars descended from Latin. This situation was quite different from the medieval Hebrew golden age, which emerged in Islamic Spain, where Arabic literature had long been well established, providing a model for imitation and adaptation.
Until now, the focus of most scholarship and literary history of medieval Jewry has been the Hebrew golden age, the period from the mid-tenth to the mid-twelfth centuries in which Jewish writers of Muslim Spain produced a great outpouring of superb Hebrew poetry consciously grounded in Arabic literary traditions. The Hebrew golden age has stood at the center of scholarly attention since the beginning of the academic study of medieval Jewish literature in the early nineteenth century; its poets set a literary standard that could not be matched by poets of the thirteenth century and later.
Of course, we have long been aware that after the golden age, when Hebrew poetry lapsed into epigonism, literary prose, especially rhymed prose, became the more prominent form. But we followed the medievals in thinking of these works simply as prose, giving no weight to the poetry that they invariably include; nor did we consider the particular literary style that emerges from combining the two forms. We missed the whole point of prosimetric composition.
Furthermore, the prose literature produced in the cultural sphere of later medieval Spain, including Provence and Italy, was generally studied in light of medieval Arabic literary prose. Here and there, scholars pointed tentatively to elements in medieval Hebrew literary prose that might be explained by Romance models. But though most students of medieval Hebrew literature had intensive training in Arabic, and though most had some knowledge of Romance literature, hardly any were trained as scholars of Romance philology.
Coming to medieval Hebrew prose from just this perspective, Isabelle Levy takes an entirely new approach to the subject. Hebrew erotic narrative now appears not as a secondary phenomenon in a world that, for the most part, valued poetry more than prose but as a mainstream phenomenon as to subject matter and literary form.
This brings us to the prosimetrum, a new concept in medieval Hebrew literary studies. Since literary texts of the kind studied here have, like the poetry, been evaluated against the background of Arabic literature, their outstanding formal feature has appeared to be their being written in rhymed prose. Accordingly, they have been seen as a continuation of the rhymed prose narrative type called the maqama, which was consciously adopted from Arabic by such Hebrew authors as Judah al-Harizi. This judgment has not worked very well for most other writers of rhymed prose narrative. By shifting attention from the fact that medieval Hebrew narratives rhyme to the fact that medieval Hebrew narratives mix prose and verse, Levy has enabled us to place these narratives in a broader generic field, thus broadening the scope for comparative study. Within Arabic literature, her point of reference is not only the maqama, as it has been for most studies of medieval Hebrew prose narrative, but other Arabic works that can be viewed as prosimetra, such as ibn Dawtd’s Kitab al-zahra (The Book of the Flower), al-Washsha’s Kitab al-muwashsha (The book of ornamentation), and ibn Hazm’s Tawg al-hamama (‘The Ring of the Dove).
This shift of focus turns out to be instructive not only for the study of Hebrew but for the study of Arabic as well, for studies of these works have never engaged with the ways in which they manipulate the relationship between prose and verse. Thus, studies of The Ring of the Dove understand the verse quotations to be merely illustrations of the points made in the prose text, seen as primary; studies of The Book of Ornamentation understand the book as an anthology of verse, with the prose content being a mere framework. Levy shows us that prose and verse interact, in both works, to make a point about the nature of love and love poetry and that they are integral to each other as well as to their theme. Applying this method to the erotic stories of the Hebrew writers Solomon ibn Saqbel and Jacob ben El‘azar, Levy is able to elevate these works from the status of mere curiosities of Hebrew letters to works that are deeply engaged in the thematics of medieval literature in general. Further enlightenment on the use of metaphor in the context of love poetry and literary prose comes from a consideration of Jacob ben El‘azar’s prosimetric stories in relation to such Arabic works as the maqdmat of al-Hamadhani and Romance works such as The Romance of the Pear, Aucassin and Nicolette, and the poetry of the troubadours. Along the way, we are treated to extensive interpretation of two of Jacob ben El‘azar’s stories.
Thus, we come to eros, the main theme of medieval Romance narrative prose and prosimetrum. Levy’s extensive study of the Mahbarot of Immanuel of Rome, one of the most popular Hebrew literary works of the Middle Ages, includes a thorough discussion of that work in light of Dante’s contemporaneous Vita nuova. Links between these works have been pointed out by earlier scholars, but Levy’s comparative study permits us to explore the new vision of love underlying the work of both, thereby showing the shifts in sensibility of Hebrew writers between the erotic ideals of the Arabic poets, the Romance poets of courtly love, and the new spiritual love poets of Dante’s ilk. For the first time in Jewish literary history, Immanuel’s Italian poetry is also brought to bear on the discussion.
For the book is not limited to Hebrew literature. It concludes with a consideration of Jewish Romance poetry from the period just after the expulsion from Spain, showing the continuity between the erotic imagination of the medieval writers and the anonymous folk poets of the Judeo-Spanish tradition. This integration of Hebrew and non-Hebrew writing is a welcome innovation in the writing of Jewish literary history.
This is a work of dazzling virtuosity and erudition, treating sources in many languages and grounded in mastery of academic scholarship in many fields not ordinarily treated together. Thanks to this breadth, the book illuminates important aspects of the medieval Jewish literary imagination while shedding not a little light on the literatures of the Jews’ neighbors East and West.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
BEGAN TO THINK OF THIS BOOK IN
my first spring as a doctoral stu-dent. As I worked my way through a rigorous reading and translating curriculum of medieval Hebrew literature with Raymond Scheindlin, I began to envision how to reshape my practice of comparing literatures. I hoped, in the process, to enrich my philological, linguistic, theoretical, and historical horizons. I am most grateful to him for introducing me to the intricacies of medieval Hebrew literature during his semester at Harvard and for subsequently sitting through many hours of reading, translating, and discussing elaborate patterns across medieval literary traditions.
To be able to spend my years as a graduate student in comparative literature delving into philology and poetics was the ultimate gift, and for this I am tremendously grateful to Luis Girén-Negron, whose impeccable scholarship, indispensable advice, and enthusiasm have served as ongoing inspiration; Jan Ziolkowski, who, significantly, introduced me to the world of the prosimetrum and who continually models scholarly generosity and conscientious attention both to the smallest details and to the overall view; and Mary Gaylord, whose sensitivity to what poems actually mean has deeply informed my own approach to poetic analysis. Though this book began as a dissertation that gave equal attention to prosimetra from the various literary traditions of the medieval Mediterranean and now strives to pinpoint innovations among texts by Jewish authors, its focus on secular love across shifting and developing literary forms remains central—a comparative gaze from a different angle.
My interests in poetics and philology have their roots in my undergraduate years, shaped by the singular experience of studying Dante and the Duecento poets with Teodolinda Barolini, whose continued encouragement of my work on Immanuel of Rome has been invaluable and meaningful. Soon after becoming entranced by Italian medieval lyric, I was truly fortunate to study the Occitan poets with Joan Ferrante and medieval Iberian literature with Patricia Grieve, both of whom imparted the wonder of literary possibilities inherent in vernacular Romance.
This book took shape during my year as postdoctoral fellow at the Institute for Israel and Jewish Studies at Columbia University, which supported my hope of bridging the not-so-distinct worlds of comparative literature, medieval studies, Romance studies, Mediterranean studies, and Jewish studies. lam profoundly grateful to Elisheva Carlebach for continuously supporting my research, to Rebecca Kobrin for regularly sharing words of wisdom with me, and to Jeremy Dauber, who provided thoughtful comments on an early outline.
My writing has benefited in myriad ways from insightful feedback from colleagues across an array of academic disciplines. I am grateful to the Italian Academy for Advanced Studies at Columbia, where I spent a rewarding semester exploring the poetic identity of Immanuel of Rome, furnished with thoughtful advice from David Freedberg and my inspiring cohort of fellows; to Dana Fishkin and Jonathan Decter, who arranged an innovative Shalom Spiegel session at the Jewish Theological Seminary devoted to Immanuel; to Francesca Bregoli for inviting me to the Center for Jewish Studies at the CUNY Graduate Center; to Akash Kumar and Elizabeth Hebbard, who included me in an interdisciplinary symposium on medieval lyric landscapes at Indiana University; to Natalia Indrimi for including me in the Centro Primo Levi’s Rome Lab at the Center for Jewish History; to Thomas O’Donnell and Fordham Medieval Studies for convening a dynamic conference on medieval French without borders; and to Dana Fishkin, who masterminded an AJS panel on Immanuel. In each of these instances, I gathered important feedback from colleagues who work on an exciting and inspiring range of subjects.
Many other mentors, colleagues, and friends made this book possible and provided indispensable advice. I am particularly grateful to the late Samuel Armistead, who inspired me to think about Judeo-Spanish lyric in new ways: he enthusiastically discussed Judeo-Spanish balladry over the phone with me and most generously lent me cassette tapes of ballads he had recorded in the 1950s. In 2009, he made a joyful, unforgettable presentation to a seminar on Jewish languages and literatures that I organized with brilliant and spirited Debra Caplan under the expert guidance of Marc Shell, who has broadened my view of comparing literatures and shared invaluable advice about the writing process. I am thankful to Susan Boynton, who, during one of our energizing walk-and-talks in Riverside Park, encouraged me to reach out to Indiana University Press, beginning what has been afruitful experience; to James Loeffler, who offered vital comments on an early draft; to Gregory Nagy, who enthusiastically introduced me to the study of oral tradition; to Vera Basch Moreen for sharing enduring words of wisdom; and to Fabian Alfie, who has encouraged my bridging the worlds of Italian and Jewish studies.
I am truly grateful to Miriam Meir for our ongoing conversations on all matters, from poetic meaning to the complexities of transliterating and the wonders of grammar; to Jeannie Miller, with whom I spent countless hours in Butler Library in writing solidarity, for continual generosity; to my fellow Immanuel of Rome enthusiast Dana Fishkin for being ever ready to discuss anything and everything Immanuel related; to Andrew McLaren, who with perpetual good humor discussed ethics, historiography, and transliteration with me; to Tamar Menashe for conscientiously reading particular sections with the crucial gaze of a historian; to David Torollo for our ongoing discussions about Jacob Ben El‘azar; to Adriana Valencia for her joyful wisdom; to Lital Levy, who inspired me to persevere through my initial efforts at reading and translating; to Judith Cohen for her meaningful singing and our inspiring talks; to Michelle Margolis Chesner for talking about—and examining! —manuscript and print stichometry with me; to Emily Runde for facilitating the ideal book cover; and to Meredith Levin for our lively discussions of all things Romance. I thank Dana Kresel, Betty Beecham, and Dina Mann for their ever-ready superpowers and my immensely talented students for never ceasing to amaze me with their innovative ways of reading.
The entire team at Indiana University Press has made this process wonderfully seamless and rewarding. I am very grateful to Brian Carroll, Gary Dunham, David Hulsey, Nancy Lila Lightfoot, Dee Mortensen, Brent Starr, Ashante Thomas, Stephen Matthew Williams, and Megan Schindele for graciously guiding me throughout and to series editors Matthias Lehmann and Harvey Goldberg, who supported my work on literary form. I am truly indebted to Jonathan Ray and the anonymous readers who took tremendous care to provide invaluable and rigorously detailed comments that helped me improve this book in ways granular and broad.
I am thankful to my parents for endless enthusiasm and encouragement; to my sister and brother-in-law for continuous moral and tech support; and to my wonderful husband and delightful children, whose love of literature has given my work deeper meaning.
Finally, I thank my cousin Stella for impressing on me the importance of treating these interdisciplinary worlds and poetic universes in the most conscientious and humane way possible, and that truly—as she continuously shows many of us—lIos corassones avlan.
This publication was supported in part by a research grant from the Institute for Israel and Jewish Studies at Columbia University and was subsidized in part by Harvard Studies in Comparative Literature.
December 31, 2020 New York City
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