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The Turpin method in comparative context.

In a stylistic comparison of Rabelais and Cervantes first published in 1925, Helmut Hatzfeld remarked on a common tendency of the two authors to combine the improbable and the fantastic with a pose of rigorous exactitude.(1) Earlier, Jean Plattard had noticed Rabelais' penchant for "specious verisimilitude" (Plattard 134-39), and many years later Gerard Defaux would comment on the same tendency in his analysis of the sophistry of Rabelais' narrator ("Rabelais et son masque comique" 97-98). In the meantime, Maxime Chevalier studied the many parallels between the role of Turpin in Ariosto's Orlando Furioso and the role of the narrator in Cervantes' Don Quijote and concluded that Ariosto helped to inspire Cervantes' meditation on the relationship of fiction and history (Chevalier 463-66). More recently, Sergio Zatti has devoted considerable attention to the role of parodic verisimilitude in Ariosto's Orlando Furioso. My purpose in this paper is to develop and coordinate the insights of these various critics into a comprehensive, comparative definition of one of the most characteristic features of Renaissance comic narrative, the Turpin method. We shall examine how this method functions in our three authors, Ariosto, Rabelais, and Cervantes, and how it provokes a similar explanatory scheme among critics of Italian, French, and Spanish Renaissance literature. In this way we can appreciate the vital role of this comic device in negotiating the contested border of fact and fiction.

The Turpin method or "il metodo turpinesco" is the expression used by Sergio Zatti in his book II Furiosofra epos e romanzo (190) to designate the parody of authority and verisimilitude in Ariosto's Orlando Furioso. Like many other chivalric romances, the Furioso frequently appeals to the authority of the twelfth-century Latin chronicle Historia Karoli Magni et Rotholandi, which purported to be an eyewitness account of Charlemagne's military campaigns written by Archbishop Turpin de Reims. With infuriating complacency, the narrator of the Furioso cites Turpin to justify the most flagrant exaggerations and most arbitrary digressions of his narrative, through which Ariosto seeks to insinuate antiphrastically the autonomy of fiction from historical criteria of truth and falsehood. (2) Turpin is the source who supplies or at times denies to Ariosto's gullible narrator those implausible or irrelevant details, such as names, numbers, or dimensions, which sufficiently remind us that fiction cannot replicate reality simply by reciting facts. At other times, the narrator emulates Turpin by offering bis own gratuitously detailed descriptions of impossible feats in an ironic comment on the hyperrealism or scrupulous precision of popular romance tradition.

Ariosto initiates the Turpin method in the strict sense of a source citation in canto 13 where Orlando rescues lsabella from a gang of thieves. To rout his adversaries, the hero hurls a huge table at them, and thanks to Turpin, we know that precisely seven escape the impact of the deadly projectile (13.40.2). By contrast, in canto 18 during the nocturnal sortie of Cloridano and Medoro, we remain ignorant of the identity of Cloridano's first victims because Turpin withholds the information (18.175.5). Later when Orlando rescues Zerbino from bis captors, we have it on Turpin's authority, and by virtue of his arithmetic, that Orlando slew at least 80 of the 120 knights who opposed him (23.62.1-2). In another combat, Ruggiero slays at least five enemies in one blow, neatly slicing horse and rider in half, which might seem somewhat implausible if we did not have Turpin's word for it: "Il buon Turpin, che sa che dice il vero, / e lascia creder poi quel ch'a l'uom piace, / narra mirabil cose di Ruggiero, / ch'udendolo, il direste voi mendace" (26.23.1-4). The rhyme "piace / mendace" reminds us that the motive of romance is esthetic pleasure, not historical truth. Finally, when Ruggiero jousts with Mandricardo, their lances strike with such force that the fragments fly up to heaven and return to earth inflames kindled by the sphere of fire. Naturally, the narrator appeals to Turpin's authority in order to verify his claim, but he also insinuates that Turpin is not always to be trusted: "I tronchi fin ai ciel ne sono ascesi: / scrive Turpin, verace in questo loco, / che dui o tre giu ne tornaro accesi, / ch'eran saliti alia sfera dei fuoco" (30.49.1-4). The insidious qualification, "verace in questo loco," implying that he is false in other places, may be seen to solicit not our belief in fact but rather our complicity in fiction.

The same type of burlesque precision that we see in the Orlando Furioso is one of the most reliable and endearing sources of humor in Cervantes' novel Don Quijote. In the complex narrative structure of the work, the anonymous secondary narrator extols the primary narrator Cide Hamete Benengeli for his exemplary curiosity and attention to detail: "Cide Hamete Benengeli fue historiador muy curioso y muy puntual en todas las cosas, y echase bien de ver, pues las que quedan referidas, con ser tan minimas y tan rateras, no las quiso pasar en silencio; de donde podran tomar ejemplo los historiadores graves" (1, 16, 199). This scrupulous precision enables him to inform us that there were precisely twelve mules in the train of the muleteer of Arevalo when he stopped at the inn of Juan Palomeque to indulge his amorous inclination for Maritornes. Elsewhere, the other narrator expresses dismay at Cide Hamete's uncharacteristic lapse of attention when he fails to specify whether the trees under which Sancho and Don Quijote spent the night before their encounter with the bandit Roque Guinart were oak or cork trees (2, 60, 504). An even more scrupulous "puntualidad" characterizes the hero's beloved chivalric romances, whose precise attention to genealogy, chronology, and descriptive detail appear to Don Quijote's diseased mind as the mark of their veracity in his debate with the Canon of Toledo at the end of the first part of the novel. In this debate, Don Quijote personifies the naive reader, susceptible to the coercive "reality effect" of fiction. How could romances be false, he inquires indignantly, when they are so exact: "[??]habian de ser mentira, y mas llevando tanta apariencia de verdad, pues nos cuentan el padre, la madre, la patria, los parientes, la edad, el lugar y las hazanas, punto por punto y dia por dia?" (1, 50, 587). It is interesting that Don Quijote refers to the effect of such punctual description, which proceeds "punto per punto y dia per dia," as an appearance of truth or "apariencia de verdad," suggesting that even be appreciates the irony of the Turpin method.

Similarly, Rabelais' narrator Alcofrybas Nasier resorts to the same techniques of incongruous precision and specious verisimilitude in order to record the gigantic proportions, appetites, and accomplishments of his protagonists, Pantagruel and Gargantua. These techniques tend to be more prominent in the first two novels than in the later works, where the giants assume more human proportions and the narrator generally w i t h d r a w s from the fiction, although not completely, as we shall see. As a doctor, Rabelais is able to add a new dimension to the Turpin method through the medical precision with which he anatomizes the massacres perpetrated by Frere Jean in the Picrocholine War or with which he describes the birth of Gargantua from his mother's ear, an anomaly which, the narrator assures us, is not nearly as dubious as the stories found in Pliny's Natural History. "Mais vous seriez bien dadvantaige esbahys et estonnez, si je vous expousoys presentement tout le chapitre de Pline, auquel parle des enfantemens estranges, et contre nature. Et toutesfoys je ne suis poinct menteur tant asseure comme il a este" (22). Here Pliny substitutes for Turpin as the notoriously unreliable authority. Later, in the Cinquiesme livre, Pliny will reappear as one of the original disciples of Ouy-dire or hearsay (804). On the basis of this episode and its keen inquiry into the relationship of authority, veracity, and eyewitness, we can suggest that Pliny is to the humanist tradition what Turpin de Reims is to the chivalric tradition. (3)

Often in Rabelais, these minute descriptions of improbable events tend to veer away from the Turpin method, in the strict sense of a parody of verisimilitude, toward an extravagant verbal profusion seemingly devoid of any ideological content. Frere Jean's prowess at dissecting bis enemies, reported in chapters 27 and 44 of Gargantua, inspires the narrator to display bis own verbal prowess in passages that abandon any pretense of referring to real events. This tendency culminates in the Chicanou episode of the Quart livre where the narrator first describes with customary anatomical precision the gruesome wounds inflicted on the Chicanous or bailiffs and then transcribes the speech of their tormentors, who describe their own wounds with enormous, unpronounceable neologisms that occupy several lines of text. Phrases like the following seem to derive from a technical vocabulary that has been swollen and distorted like a malignant growth:
 Loyre se plaignoit de ce que le Records debrade luy avoit donne si
 grand coup de poing sus l'aultre coubte, qu'il en estoit devenu tout
 esperruquancluzelubelouzerirelu du talon. "Mais (disoit Trudon
 cachant l'oeil guausche avecques son mouschouoir, et monstrant son
 tabourin defonce d'un couste) quel mal leurs avoys je faict? Il ne
 leurs a suffis m'avoir ainsi lourdement
 mon pauvre oeil: d'abondant
 ilz m'ont defonce mon tabourin." (574)

This display of words, chosen for their conspicuous visual impact, can no longer be judged in terms of truth or verisimilitude.

Whereas Ariosto appeals insistently to the authority of Turpin, Alcofrybas intermittently invokes the authority of a prior text to verify his implausible assertions. In Pantagruel, the narrator sometimes refers generically to "l'histoire" (227, 315), which might designate the Grandes ehroniques celebrated in the prologue, but he also bases his account on his own experiences in the service of Pantagruel. In chapter 23 he invokes the authority of a certain Marotus du lac to verify a burlesque explanation of the shortness of the French league in comparison with the same unir of measure in other countries (298). In Gargantua, the narrator purports to have retrieved his story from a venerable old manuscript discovered in a tomb (10), and elsewhere he claims to derive his information from the local archives or from the Supplementum Supplementi chronicorum (102), which I was disillusioned to discover is a real chronicle published in Venice in 1503 even though it sounds like it belongs in the Librairie de St. Victor. The episode of Gargantua's livery from chapter 8 combines an appeal to textual authority with the grotesque precision of Turpinesque description when it transcribes ali the lengths of cloth used to fashion the giant's shirt, doublet, hose, shoes, cape, codpiece, and other garments directly from the archives of Montsoreau. "Par les anciens pantarches, qui sont en la chambre des comptes a Montsoreau, je trouve qu'il feust vestu en la facon que s'ensuyt" (24). Here indeed the written source appealed to is imaginary. Moreover, the antiquity of the records does not detract from the up-to-date fashion of the livery and especially of Gargantua's "image" or neo-Platonic emblem of the Androgyne, which presumably alludes to the sixteenth-century fashion of emblems and symbolic images. (4) In the Tiers livre, Rabelais largely escbews the narrative ploys of the first two books, and Alcofrybas maintains a discreet distance from the action which he narrates. There are no mock appeals to historical documents or archival sources, and only once does the narrator offer his own eyewitness testimony, when he declares that he saw the marvelous herb Pantagruelion loaded onto the ships of Pantagruel's fleet (500-01). In the Quart livre, the narrator once again intervenes in the story, notably in the episode of the Paroles Gelees, but only once does he allege a written source for his narration and even then only in the most formulaic terms: "Et dict le conte" (635). In the Cinquiesme livre, the first-person narrative continues to eclipse the authority of written sources. (5)

The dual appeal to eyewitness experience and to historical documentation in Rabelais' first two books creates a curious temporal disjunction which can only partially be explained by the inordinate longevity of the giants. If Ariosto's protagonists belong securely to the Carolingian past while his narrator inscribes himself in the present of Italian Renaissance court society, Rabelais' giants and their companion Alcofrybas inhabit both past and present simultaneously. They emerge from the archaeological past and engage in the modern controversies of the Renaissance. A similar temporal indeterminacy prevails in Cervantes' novel Don Quijote. At the outset of the story, the narrator assures us that the hero lived not long ago: "no ba mucho tiempo que vivia un hidalgo de los de lanza en astillero, adarga antigua, rocin flaco y galgo corredor" (1, 1, 75-76). Again when the narrative breaks off in chapter 9, the new narrator surmises from the scrutiny of Don Quijote's library in chapter 6 that the hero is a modern figure because he keeps so many modern books (I, 9, 140). However, at the end of the first part of the novel, the narrator transcribes a series of verse tributes to Don Quijote, which he claims were conserved in an old manuscript inscribed in Gothic letters discovered amid the ruins of an ancient hermitage (1, 52, 607). This latter circumstance bears an uncanny resemblance to the excavation of the enigma from the foundations of the Abbey of Theleme at the end of Gargantua. If Don Quijote earned these tributes in the distant past, he must have lived very long ago. Like Pantagruel, Don Quijote is both an ancient and a modern, and this ambiguity may serve as a supplement to the Turpin method by accentuating the unreality of the characters.

One key text where Rabelais confronts the paradox of fictional truth in keeping with the spirit of the romanzo is the prologue of his first novel, Pantagruel. Here, Alcofrybas presents his work as an extension or improvement of les Grandes et inestimables Chronicques de l'enorme geant Gargantua published earlier in the same year of 1532 in the same city of Lyons possibly with the collaboration of the same author, Rabelais. (7) Since, according to Alcofrybas, we have believed in the Grandes Chroniques as gospel truth or "tout ainsi que texte de Bible ou du sainct Evangile," we ought to prefer his own narrative, which is of the same sort only a little less implausible, he adds disconcertingly: "Voulant doncques je vostre humble esclave accroistre vos passetemps dadvantaige, vous offre de present un aultre livre de mesme billon sinon qu'il est un peu plus equitable et digne de foy que n'estoit l'aultre" (215). Alcofrybas assures us that he has never lied: "Je ne suis nay en telle planette, et ne m'advint oncques de mentir, ou asseurer chose que ne feust veritable"; and he even claims to speak like St. John the Evangelist: "J'en parle comme sainct Jehan de Lapocalypse: quod vidimus testamur" or "we bear witness to what we have seen," as Jesus tells Nicodemus in the Gospel according to John 3.11. While some have taken this analogy between Pantagrue! and the New Testament literally (Duval 4-11), others see in the prologue an ironic acknowledgement of the reader's complicity in fiction especially when the narrator cites the legal maxim "agentes et consentientes," which means that accomplices share the guilt of a crime with its agents (Defaux, "Plaidoyer pour l'histoire"). Jerome Schwartz, in lrony and Ideology in Rabelais (7-16), develops this idea of complicity between author, text, and reader to show how Rabelais raises profound questions about the veracity of fiction and about the kind of belief we can accord to a secular text that stakes an incredible claim to sacred truth.

For readers familiar with the Orlando Furioso, Alcofrybas' appeal to St. John's authority might well recall Ariosto's lunar episode, where St. John raises similarly disconcerting questions about the truth claims of secular and sacred narratives. In canto 34, the bold knight and irreverent tourist Astolfo rides the hippogriff to the summit of the Earthly Paradise, whence St. John guides him to the sphere of the moon. On the moon, they witness a curious scene of old ladies weaving fleeces with name tags that an old man dumps in a river from which swans rescue a few names and deposit them in a temple. In canto 35, St. John explains this scene as an allegory of time and fame where the swans represent true poets who immortalize their patrons and themselves. In the face of modern indifference to poetry, St. John extols the poet's power to confer undying fame on generous if undeserving patrons, as Virgil did for Augustus. He ought to know what he's talking about, he assures us, since he did the same for Christ in his gospel:
 Gli scrittori amo, e fo il debito mio;
 Ch'al vostro mondo fui scrittore anch'io.
 E sopra tutti gli altri io feci acquisto
 che non mi puo levar tempo ne morte:
 e ben convenne al mio lodato Cristo
 rendermi guidardon di si gran sorte. (35.28.7-8; 29. 1-4)

Perhaps it is this remunerative patron-poet relationship that the narrator of Pantagruel has in mind when he promises us the same kind of testimony as St. John. To gloss his quote from St. John, "quod vidimus testamur," Alcofrybas specifies the theme of his testimony: "C'est des horribles faictz et prouesses de Pantagruel, lequel j'ay servy a gaiges des ce que je fuz hors de page, jusques a present" (215). Narrators don't work for free. The saint's "guiderdone" and the servant's "gages" stimulate their panegyric skills and invite the reader's complicity in a self-consciously fictive narrative.

For Zatti, St. John's defense of poetry in canto 35 of the Furioso provides the best context in which to understand the full implications of the Turpin method. Following the insights of David Quint, Zatti emphasizes the historicism of St. John's ironic apology for poetry as the art of embellishing the reputation of generous patrons (Zatti 199-202 citing Quint 90). Conditioned by the poet's relation to his patron, every work of poetry is necessarily a product of its own era and its own culture. The truth of poetry resides, finally, in its historical contingency. The precise historical context in which Zatti would situate Ariosto's discussion of fictional truth is the anti-chivalric polemic which Cario Dionisotti reconstructed in his invaluable study of Boiardo's reputation in sixteenth-century Italy. Dionisotti shows how Italian verse narrative composed in the interval between the Orlando lnnamorato of 1483 and the Orlando Furioso of 1516 consistently engaged in what he calls "la polemica anti-romanzesca in nome della verita storica" (232). Most of these works devoted to mythological or historical topics have quietly receded from the view of literary historians, but their prefaces and prologues contain some admirably naive expressions of indignation at the falsehood of chivalric fiction. For Zatti, Ariosto resorts to his trusty Turpin method in order to vindicate the chivalric tradition against these diatribes and to challenge the notion of a hierarchy of genres based on their degree of verisimilitude. Ali genres of poetry, he would suggest, are equally remote from the historical truth.

In this sense, Ariosto's inquiry into literary truth is conditioned by the literary values of early sixteenth-century Italian culture, which Ariosto's work helped to overturn or at least to revise. Similarly, Jean Ceard has proposed to situate Pantagruel's theme of fictional truth, echoed in the narrator's repeated references to his story as "ceste histoire tant veridique" or "ces tant veritables contes," in the context of the humanist polemic against legendary histories such as Saints lives or the Pseudo-Turpin Chronicle ("l'Histoire ecoutee aux portes de la legende"). Some of the figures to whom he refers as the exponents of this polemic are the early French humanists Robert Gaguin, Papire Masson, Jean Bouchet, and the more recognizable names of Erasmus and Juan Luis Vives. Again, at least since the time of Giuseppe Toffanin (Lafine dell'umanesimo 211-21), Cervantes criticism has recognized that the figure of the narrator and the discussions of truth and verisimilitude in Don Quijote respond to the Aristotelian criticism that dominated literary culture at the end of the Renaissance. Thus, for all three authors, literary historians have been able to discover a link between history and fiction that compensates for the autonomy of self-conscious fiction. In each case, fiction claims historicity not by bearing authentic testimony to past events, such as the noble deeds of heroes, hidalgos, and giants, but rather by engaging in contemporary debates on history and fiction. Paradoxically, in their eflbrt to distance themselves from history, these fictions enter into contact with history: they achieve actuality in proportion to their autonomy. The relationship they bear to history is not mimetic or referential but rather what might be called deictic by analogy to the linguistic category of deixis.

Deictics are words like "here" and "now" or "I" and "you" whose meaning depends on the identity of the speaker and his position in time and space. Their use presupposes a shared temporal and spatial reference between speaker and interlocutor or, in fictional narrative, between narrator and reader. Fictional narrative can go beyond linguistic deixis to make use of historical deixis by alluding to contemporary events, existing landmarks, or current ideas that are familiar both to author and audience. This form of deixis brings the heroism of the past into what has been described as a corrosive contact with the present. (8)

Of all the comic narratives under discussion here, it is probably Rabelais' Pantagruel that cultivates the closest deictic contact with a contemporary audience for whom the notions of here and now mean the same thing as they do for the narrator. In Pantagruel the use of historical deixis is so insistent as to eclipse the Turpin method of chivalric romance as the principle means of exploring the relationship between fiction and reality. Often Rabelais' text refers directly to events in contemporary French history, such as the battle of Marignano fought in 1515 (221), the persecution of university professors suspected of Lutheranism (231), or the collapse of one of the towers of the Cathedral of Bourges in 1506 (320). Pantagruel's tour of French universities in chapter 5 brings the hero's career in close proximity with Rabelais' French Renaissance audience, but even closer proximity is achieved, paradoxically, through the attribution of archaeological antiquity to the giant and his era. The young giant took his soup in an enormous trough "qui est encores de present a Bourges pres du palays" (227). As he grew, his father had a crossbow made for him "qu'on appelle de present la grand arbaleste de Chantelle" (229). Later, as a student at Poitiers, he erected a huge dolmen on which his fellow students could inscribe their name, "et de present l'apelle on La pierre levee" (230). The modern reader, dependent on editorial annotations, may well wonder to whose present all these passages appeal if not to the deictic present shared by the novel and its first audience.

An exception to this trend can be seen in the Quart Livre in the episode of Messer Gaster, the personification of the stomach. Chapter 62 describes how Gaster invented a means of arresting the flight of cannon balls with magnets, which he demonstrated to the narrator and which is presently used as a game at Theleme: "A cestuy inconvenient ja avoit ordre tresbon donne et nous en monstra l'essay: duquel a depuys use Fronton, et est de praesent en usaige commun entre les passetemps et exercitations honestes des Telemites" (684). Leaving aside the incongruity of a classical author, whether Cornelius Fronto or Frontinus, writing about modern artillery, we can concentrate our attention on the adverbial phrase "de praesent" as applied to the Abbey of Theleme, which is first described in the last six chapters of Gargantua and mentioned occasionally in subsequent books. Theleme is a utopia, insulated from the course of historical time and immersed in a static present. If Gaster's patently unrealizable trick is currently in use in Utopia, then it exists outside of rime and beyond contact with the author and his audience. Thus the Gaster episode furnishes a counter-example to the practice of historical deixis.

Ostensibly, the narrator's frequent appeals to the present are intended to prove the reality of the giant Pantagruel through a sort of pseudo-etiology which traces modern monuments back to their gigantic source. The deliberate inadequacy of such proof is another instance of the Turpin method. And yet, the real impact of these deictic phrases is to demonstrate the singularity of the present and its rapid supersession. In our own era, the present to which Maitre Alcofrybas refers so familiarly can only be retrieved through painstaking erudition. Rabelais makes us appreciate the discontinuity between past and present as well as the distinction between fact and fiction. His goal is not solely to vindicate artistic freedom from inappropriate standards of belief and verification, but also to challenge the authority of the past and to release the innovative role of time. Neither Turpin nor any prior text can authorize his fiction, which derives both its autonomy and its authority from the present.

In effect, Rabelais turns the Turpin method into an embryonic theory of history. All three authors considered here, Ariosto, Rabelais and Cervantes, appeal to the authority of the past in such a way as to deliberately discredit this authority and to leave the present to authorize itself. They disrupt the continuity of literary tradition so as to release a new sense of time, which can sponsor new models of narration. The Turpin method might thus be understood as an oblique reminder that fictional forms can express and even transform the historical consciousness of an era.


(1)Hatzfeld speaks of "eine Verbindung des Unwahrscheinlichen und Marchenhaften, mit der Pose naturgetreuer Exaktheit" (366).

(2) Daniel Javitch has sought to broaden Zatti's approach by providing an inventory of ali the methods Ariosto uses to highlight the fictionality of his creation in "The Advertising of Fictionality in Orlando Furioso."

(3) For an excellent discussion of the episode of Ouy-dire as a critique both of erudition and of eyewitness testimony, see Jean Ceard's article "L'Erudition dans le Cinquieme Livre."

(4) For more on this fashion see Jerome Schwartz's contribution to the volume Image and Symbol in the Renaissance.

(5) For the use of first-person narration in Rabelais, see Terence Cave, Pre-histoires (143-55), and, for the Cinquiesme Livre, Andre Tournon's article "'Sub specie phantasiae.'"

(6) In the Furioso, Remo Ceserani recognizes three different temporal strata, the time of the action, the rime of the classical intertexts, and the time of the narrator, and he argues that these three layers tend to fuse together.

(7) Mireille Huchon assesses Rabelais' editorial contribution to the Grandes Chroniques in her book Rabelais grammairien (390-405).

(8) In his essay on epic and novel from The Dialogic lrnagination. Bakhtin maintains that the novel supersedes the epic by portraying the characters and events of fiction on the same temporal level as the audience, thus abolishing epic distance. This technique, which he calls a "radical shift of the temporally valorized center of artistic orientation'" (26), can be abbreviated as historical deixis.


Ariosto, Ludovico. Orlando Furioso. Ed. Cesare Segre. Milan: Mondadori, 1976. Bakhtin, Mikhail. The Dialogic hnagination. Trans. Caryl Emerson and Michael Holquist. Austin: U of Texas P, 1981.

Cave, Terence. Pre-histoires: Textes troubles au seuil de la modernite. Geneva: Droz, 1999. Ceard, Jean. "'L'Histoire ecoutee aux portes de la legende: Rabelais, les fables de Turpin et les exemples de Saint Nicolas." Etudes seiziemistes offertes a V.-L. Saulnier. Geneva: Droz, 1980. 91-109.

--. "L'Erudition dans le Cinquieme Livre." Le Cinquiesme Livre. Ed. Franco Giacone. Etudes Rabelaisiennes 40 (2001): 41-53.

Cervantes, Miguel de. Don Quijote de la Mancha. Ed. Juan Bautista Avalle-Arce. Madrid: Alhambra, 1979.

Ceserani, Remo. "Due modelli culturali e narrativi nell 'Orlando Furioso." Giornale Storico della Letteratura Italiana 161 (1984): 481-506.

Chevalier, Maxime. L'Arioste en Espagne. Bordeaux, 1966. Defaux, Gerard. "Rabelais et son masque comique: Sophista Loquitur." Etudes Rabelaisiennes 11 (1974): 89-136.

--. "Plaidoyer pour l'histoire: Rabelais, les 'Brocardia juris.' Demosthene et l'Antiquaille." Revue d'Histoire Litteraire de la France 77 (1977): 723-48.

Dionisotti, Carlo. "Fortuna e sfortuna dei Boiardo nel Cinquecento." II Boiardo e la critica contemporanea. Ed. Giuseppe Anceschi. Florence: Olschki, 1970. 221-41.

Duval, Edwin. The Design ofRabelais's Pantagruel. New Haven: Yale UP, 1991.

Hatzfeld, Helmut. "Kunstlerische Beruhrungspunkte zwischen Cervantes und Rabelais." Jahrbuch fur Philologie I (1925): 355-72.

Huchon, Mireille. Rabelais grammairien. Geneva: Droz, 1981. Javitch, Daniel. "The Advertising of Fictionality in Orlando Furioso." Ariosto Today: Contemporary Perspectives. Ed. Beecher, Ciavolella, and Fedi. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 1994. 106-25. Plattard, Jean. L'oeuvre de Rabelais (sources, invention et composition). Paris: Honore Champion, 1910.

Quint, David. Origin and Originality in Renaissance Literature. New Haven: Yale UP, 1983.

Rabelais, Francois. Oeuvres completes. Ed. Mireille Huchon. Bibliotheque de la Pleiade. Paris: Gallimard, 1994.

Schwartz. Jerome. "Gargantua's Device and the Abbey of Theleme: A Study in Rabelais" Iconography." Image and Symbol in the Renaissance. Ed. A. Winandy. Yale French Studies 47 (1972): 232-42.

--. Irony and ldeology in Rabelais. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1990. Toffanin, Giuseppe. La fine dell'umanesimo. Turin: Fratelli Bocca, 1920. Tournon, Andre. "'Sub .specie phantasiae: Enonciation et interlocution dans Le Cinquiesme Livre."

Le Cinquiesme Livre. Ed. Franco Giacone. Etudes Rabelaisiennes 40 (200 I): 467-84. Zatti, Sergio. Il Furioso fra epos e romanzo. Lucca: Fazzi, 1990.


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Title Annotation:Intersections
Author:MacPhail, Eric
Article Type:Critical essay
Geographic Code:1USA
Date:Jun 22, 2007
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