If Dante has a question about how his body can transit other bodies in the universe, Beatrice doesn’t answer it. Instead, she launches into a discussion of our natural instincts and how they lead us to our natural ends, unless we swerve from what’s intended for us or find our pleasure elsewhere.
Read MoreBeatrice has answered Dante’s first doubt, but he has another: How can he, perhaps in his body, transit the known universe? She doesn’t really answer the question. Instead, she launches into an explanation of the universe’s order, sailing across the great sea of “to be.”
Read MoreDante notices that the light has doubled in brightness. He also hears the music of the spheres. He’s too busy trying to measure and understand those to realize that he’s already left earth to fly up toward the planets and stars. Fortunately, Beatrice is there to set him straight . . . and to redefine “home.”
Read MoreThe plot returns to PARADISO! Our pilgrim Dante turns to Beatrice . . . to see her staring into the sun. So he does the same, becoming a reflection of her glory as he also sees the sparking wonder of the heavens above him.
Read MoreDante moves from his scholastic and even (medieval) scientific introduction to PARADISO and into an invocation . . . to Apollo? How is a pagan god the object of his prayers in this most Christian part of his poem, COMEDY? This passage is polyvocal, an uneasy alliance of Christian and classical texts, resulting in striking dissonances throughout.
Read MoreDante opens the third canticle of COMEDY by renegotiating some of the terms of the poem itself: He is indeed like St. Paul (maybe even more profound than the great saint) and memory isn’t able to carry the weight of the poem ahead, its flight to the unmoved mover in its ascent to the heaven that takes in more of the light of glory than any other.
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