In the third circle of Inferno, Dante-the-pilgrim encounters the emblematic glutton, Ciacco. This strange, nauseating soul offers us readers several problems. One, he mixes gluttony with another sin, thereby complicating the structure of the rings of the poem, of hell, and maybe of theology itself.

Two, he further complicates the quandary of the materiality of the soul (always my own obsession).

And three, he himself remains a mysterious figure, obscured in the mists of time (although the subject of so so so much commentary over the centuries).

In our slow walk through THE DIVINE COMEDY, we've stepped down into the muck of gluttony--and mystery, too. Let's talk about the social unrest that gluttony causes. And let's talk for a minute about the strange nature of Dante's art that sets the tone for Western literature for the next seven hundred years.

Here’s my translation of Inferno, Canto VI, Lines 34 - 57 (the one I use in the podcast episode):

We were walking over the shades that lay about

Under the leaden rain and putting the soles of our feet

On that emptiness that seemed like real people.

All of them were scattered about on the ground,

Except for one who sat right up

Right when he saw us pass in front of him.

“O you who get a guided tour of hell,

He said to me, “recognize me, if you’ve got the know-how.

You were, before I was unmade, made.”

And I to him, “The distress you suffer

May have erased you from my mind,

So that I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.

But tell me who you are, set down

In this place of suffering, with such a penalty

That none is so nauseating, even if it’s greater.

And he to me, “Your city, which is so full

Of envy that its bag overflows,

Held me in it when life was cloudless [sunny].

You citizens called me Ciacco,

And for the contemptible sin of the gut,

As you can see, I am beaten down by this rain.

I am a miserable spirit but I am not alone.

All these here endure the same penalty

For the same guilt.” And then he said no more.