English

In disability studies, discussing the process of becoming disabled is often discouraged. It is not ok to ask "what happened" because it positions disability as an accident and otherwise undesirable. Instead, the field has focused on the social model as a way to divorce disability from discourses about suffering, and rightly so, affirm disabled identity while challenging social societal attitudes that devalue disabled life and obstacles such as environments inhospitable to disabled bodies. Despite the interventions of scholars like Susan Wendell, Tom Shakespeare, and Margaret Price, there is still an understandably strong resistance in the field to discussing disability and suffering. What has happened, however, is that the experiences of becoming disabled for those who occupy multiple marginalized positions must be elided. For instance, to ask disabled black women "what happened" might reveal narratives like that shared in Assata Shakur's memoir, which reveals that she experienced a temporary physical disability, in the form of paralysis, and chronic illness as an effect of state violence. As Nirmalla Erevelles has argued elsewhere, disability is often the result of racialized socio-economic subjugation. In this paper, I analyze Assata Shakur's 1987 memoir, Assata: An Autobiography, as but one instantiation in a body of African American literature that links state violence to becoming disabled. I argue that Shakur uses her bodily fragility to bear witness to the violence the state executes against the U.S. marginalized communities.

would be lost without their encouragement, feedback, and faith in my project. I'm also forever grateful to my family whose lives are the inspiration for this project, particularly my Nana, Yvonne Smith, may she rest in power and my mother, Georgina Ferrell and sister, Bre'Onca Ferrell, both of whom have also provided support, strength, love and childcare; Kevin Hinton, who has kindly read drafts and listened to my rants; and, my daughter, Ella Naomi Hinton, who makes me feel that anything is possible.

I ary Martin McLaughlin, eminent medieval historian, didn't come to Kalamazoo during the 2006 International Conference of Medieval Studies for the "Medieval Foremothers" symposium we held in her honor because she was afraid she might catch a cold. She feared that she would lose precious time she needed to finish her long-delayed books on the abbess Heloise and her companion Abelard. This was not an unreasonable fear for an eighty-seven-year-old woman who had survived several grave illnesses, but she found the decision awkward because she so esteemed those-attendees and speakers alike-who were celebrating her. She fretted about the disappointment her absence would cause those who (in her words) had gone to such trouble. Little did she or we know that this symposium would become a form of memorial. Mary was hospitalized just as the Kalamazoo conference was ending, stricken not by a cold but once more by cancer. This time she fell victim to that struggle. Before Mary died, I traveled to Millbrook to see her one last time. I brought her photos from the Kalamazoo symposium and copies of the presentations that had been given in her honor. She was avid to see them and very grateful to all. She died a "sumptuous death" medieval fashion: in her own peaceful home, visited by a succession of friends bidding farewell, lovingly attended by her family and her emphatic "boys," the cats Maurice and M. Ie Prince, on June 8, 2006. Her major worry, even in deathbed pain, was that het "two " unfinished manuscripts on Heloise and Abelard be finished and " printed. We had been working on these manuscripts together for almost a decade. It consoled her when I promised that I would complete the project and get the volumes to press. With the help of others, I hope to have her two volumes at press by the fall of 2007.

Winchester MS, circa 1469 ; Caxton's printing, 1485) is a late medieval English Arthuriad that persistently defers to the authenticity and authority of its French ancestors. In fact, Malory revels in such deference : no fewer than ninety-eight times he refers to « books » that he purportedly translates. Often he refers only to « the book », but when-thirty-nine times-he specifies the language or source of the book, it is, with only one exception, « the French book » 1. Though he plunders at least a few English works for his stories, the sole time he mentions any English book, on the last pages of his work, he impugns its authority in relation to its better, a legitimate French source 2. From the time of Geoffrey of Monmouth (who himself claims merely to translate his ancient British text), a show of deference to prior texts typifies Arthurian literature in all languages. This is especially intense and French-focused in Malory. When we read the Morte Darthur, then, we are acutely aware of its author's habits as a reader of vernacular literature. Malory's frequent reminders about his sources create a visible layer of discourse within his fiction with his literary predecessors and his readers. Others have plowed Malory's textual field in relation to his sources ; such work helps us understand his method, since his explicit pointers about reading help us read the Morte Darthur, though one might be warier than some of reading Malory's sources as if their mere reproduction constitutes Malory's teleological goal. Malory reading-and ways of reading Malory-are the subjects of this essay. Like the fourteenth-century English poet Geoffrey Chaucer in Troilus and Criseyde with whose readerly strategies I here compare him, Malory directs our attention to his pose as a translator of authoritative texts and to the claim that he writes merely « as the French book seyeth ». Malory's self-presentation as translator and reader reflect, I suggest, a variety of reading audiences for whom he wrote. Even when he translates episodes from his sources literally, Malory reconfigures the pattern of those episodes to suit his firm design. This essay briefly considers this complex aspect of Malory's narrative design, in order to see how his generic compendium provides not only the concise biography of King Arthur and his chivalric Round Table but also a typology for romance in an English mode. Malory's deferential stance towards his sources was once taken at face value and he was often dismissed as a journeyman-translator. His seemingly transparent claim of authorial absence blinded those who assumed (sometimes following the

Morte Darthur (Winchester MS, circa 1469 ; Caxton's printing, 1485) is a late medieval English Arthuriad that persistently defers to the authenticity and authority of its French ancestors. In fact, Malory revels in such deference : no fewer than ninety-eight times he refers to « books » that he purportedly translates. Often he refers only to « the book », but when -thirty-nine times -he specifies the language or source of the book, it is, with only one exception, « the French book » 1 . Though he plunders at least a few English works for his stories, the sole time he mentions any English book, on the last pages of his work, he impugns its authority in relation to its better, a legitimate French source 2 . From the time of Geoffrey of Monmouth (who himself claims merely to translate his ancient British text), a show of deference to prior texts typifies Arthurian literature in all languages. This is especially intense and French-focused in Malory. When we read the Morte Darthur, then, we are acutely aware of its author's habits as a reader of vernacular literature. Malory's frequent reminders about his sources create a visible layer of discourse within his fiction with his literary predecessors and his readers. Others have plowed Malory's textual field in relation to his sources ; such work helps us understand his method, since his explicit pointers about reading help us read the Morte Darthur, though one might be warier than some of reading Malory's sources as if their mere reproduction constitutes Malory's teleological goal. Malory reading -and ways of reading Malory -are the subjects of this essay. Like the fourteenth-century English poet Geoffrey Chaucer in Troilus and Criseyde with whose readerly strategies I here compare him, Malory directs our attention to his pose as a translator of authoritative texts and to the claim that he writes merely « as the French book seyeth ». Malory's self-presentation as translator and reader reflect, I suggest, a variety of reading audiences for whom he wrote. Even when he translates episodes from his sources literally, Malory reconfigures the pattern of those episodes to suit his firm design. This essay briefly considers this complex aspect of Malory's narrative design, in order to see how his generic compendium provides not only the concise biography of King Arthur and his chivalric Round Table but also a typology for romance in an English mode. Malory's deferential stance towards his sources was once taken at face value and he was often dismissed as a journeyman -translator. His seemingly transparent claim of authorial absence blinded those who assumed (sometimes following the 1 A Concordance to the Works of Sir

W ith a visitation of God's mercy, we have received the favor of a visit from your excellency. We rejoice, most gracious father, and we glory in the fact that your greatness should have descended to our smallness. For a visit from you is a great glory even for the greatest. Others may know what a blessing your sublime presence has conferred upon them. As for myself, I cannot put into words, or even comprehend in thought, how beneficial and delightful your coming was to me. Our abbot and our lord, on November 16 (16 kal. Decembris) last year, you celebrated here a mass in which you commended us to the Holy Spirit. You nourished our spirits in chapter with a funeral oration of divine eloquence. You gave us the body of our master and so yielded to us the distinction belonging to Cluny. To me also, whom, unworthy though I am of the name of servant, you in your sublime humility have not disdained to call sister in both writing and speech, you gave as a token of love and sincerity a certain rare privilege, that is, a tricennarium [thirty masses o ered on as many days in behalf of the dead] which the congregation of Cluny will o er for me when I am dead. You promised to con rm this gift with the supreme honor of your seal. Do this, then, brother or rather master, as you promised your sister or rather your servant. Please send me the other seal containing in plain words the absolution of our master, so that it may be hung above his tomb. And remember, for the love of God, our Astralabe and yours, and try to procure a prebend for him either from the bishop of Paris or from some other bishop. Farewell. May the Lord keep you and sometimes grant us your presence. * Translated from The Letters of Peter the Venerable, ed. Constable, 1.167, 400-402. M. M. McLaughlin et al. (eds.

The prudent Heloise, our abbess, lies in this tomb. Founder of the Paraclete, she rests with the Paraclete. High above the poles, she shares the joys of the saints, And lifts us from the depths by her merits and prayers. M. M. McLaughlin et al. (eds.

The Socrates of the Gauls, the greatest Plato of the West, our Aristotle, Peer or superior to all other logicians, whoever they may be, Acknowledged prince of worldly studies, subtle, sharp, and diverse in the range of his talents, Best of all in the force of reason and the art of speaking was Abelard. But with far greater distinction as a professed monk of Cluny, He passed over to the philosophy of Christ. Through his long striving, At the end of his life, he won hope of a place with God's philosophers. M. M. McLaughlin et al. (eds.

As the academic year winds down, I think the Society for Medieval Feminist Scholarship can boast of several major accomplishments. First of all, we have a new institutional home: Minot State University in North Dakota, under the leadership of Michelle M. Sauer of the English Department. As ofJuly 1, 2004, Michelle will serve as Managing Editor of Medieval Feminist Forum and will also assume responsibility for keeping track of SMFS membership. The administration of Minot State has been enthusiastic and generous in their support for taking over the nuts and bolts of managing SMSF and MFF.

As the academic year winds down, I think the Society for Medieval Feminist Scholarship can boast of several major accomplishments. First of all, we have a new institutional home: Minot State University in North Dakota, under the leadership of Michelle M. Sauer of the English Department. As ofJuly 1, 2004, Michelle will serve as Managing Editor of Medieval Feminist Forum and will also assume responsibility for keeping track of SMFS membership. The administration of Minot State has been enthusiastic and generous in their support for taking over the nuts and bolts of managing SMSF and MFF.

Background: A last remembrance of the founders at the Paraclete was the epitaph attributed to the last abbess, at their nal reburial there, before the dissolution of the abbey during the upheavals of the Revolution. Here, under the same tombstone lies the founder of this monastery, Peter Abelard with Heloise, its rst abbess, once joined together in learning, genius, and love, ill-fated marriage and penitence. Now, we hope, united in everlasting joy. Peter died the twenty-rst of April, 1142, and Heloise on the seventeenth of May, 1163. By the hand of Charlotte de Roucy, abbess of the Paraclete, 1780. M. M. McLaughlin et al. (eds.

between the authority of her "shewings," or visions, which showed her that sin is "nought" (i.e., has no real being), and that of the Church, which teaches the reality of sin and the damnation of sinners. In this chapter, Turner is especially concerned to reject interpretations of Julian that see in her work a conflict between the authority of her personal, direct mystical experience and the teachings of the Church, and rightly points out that Julian herself saw the apparent tension as a conceptual problem in need of solution, and not as a real opposition. Chapter 4 interprets Julian's soteriology as a narrative of salvation history whereby the "behovely" nature of sin can only be understood through meditation upon the cross and progressive insight into the meaning of the Passion and the Trinity. The textual focus for this interpretation is Julian's "Lord and Servant" narrative in chapter 51 of the Long Text, juxtaposed with a long excursus on Dante's Divine Comedy. Chapter 5 focuses on Julian's view of prayer in relation to contemplation and desire, and seeks to situate her vis-à-vis the monastic tradition and especially Augustine. Chapter 6 defends Julian's orthodoxy against three charges related to substance and sensuality: that she commits the heresy of the "Free Spirit" in stating that there is "no difference between God and oure substance," that her view on sin is Pelagian, and that her "godly/beastly wills" and "substance/ sensualite" distinctions commit her to a kind of Manichean dualism. The book concludes by summarizing Julian's answer to her own question "Why sin?"-the answer being, according to Turner, "that it is a better world in which the problem is solved than any world would be in which, because there had been no problem in the first place, there was no need for the solution" (210). The idea that Julian of Norwich's writings are more than mere spiritual literature and contain a sustained and consistent reflection upon theological issues is not new. Grace Jantzen's 1988 book, Julian of Norwich, Mystic and Theologian (to which Turner makes no reference) defends just such a view, without denying her place in the medieval mystical tradition or overplaying her status as a theologian. Moreover, Turner's approach herewhich is considerably less historical than his other works on mystical theology, and departs from Julian's text for long stretches-leaves the reader with the impression of an interesting yet rather subjective set of musings about Julian. Indeed, this impression is very much in accord with the author's own admission, in the preface, "that this is less a book about Julian's Revelation and more a set of reflections occasioned by it, a set of variations on a theme of Julian" (xiii). As such, students or scholars seeking more scientific and historically grounded information about Julian's work in the context of medieval vernacular theology will be better repaid by consulting Jantzen (1988), the introduction to