Behold the beast of fraud! And behold INFERNO, canto XVII, in which Dante, having sworn on his COMEDY that he really saw this thing, goes silent. In which Virgil takes over. And in which the poetic techniques become more elaborate and more aesthetically pleasing. The beast of fraud brings on the poetry. Naturally.

A meta episode of the podcast WALKING WITH DANTE—and perhaps a personal confession, too. Here’s my own overview of COMEDY—or perhaps the overview of the way I idiosyncratically read (that is, interpret) Dante’s masterwork COMEDY. It’s an overview of the writerly strategies as a whole and a clue to my own obsessions with the poetics of this work.

The most meta bit of poetry yet in INFERNO. Dante the poet steps out from behind the plot and names his own work—and swears on this COMEDY that he really saw the beast of fraud in his walk across hell. It doesn’t get more fraudelent than that!

Dante the poet is rewriting COMEDY as Dante the pilgrim is providing the raw material only a classical poet can straighten out. COMEDY is getting more complicated, more meta by the line. Join me, Mark Scarbrough, for an exploration of this tough passage from Inferno, Canto XVI, on WALKING WITH DANTE.

Dante finally replies to his political heroes. He does two incredible things. He refuses to pick up the game of courtesy and disdain. And instead of anger at his dashed hopes, he comes to a place of sadness and human connection. This is a fundamental change in the pilgrim. And he sees the journey ahead clearly for the first time.

Dante again gets to speak with history. In Canto X, he got to speak to the opposing side, to Farinata. Here, he gets to speak to his heroes, the three Guelph leaders who accomplished what Dante hoped to accomplish. And who made absolutely no difference in the hell of Florentine history. What happens when you meet your heroes and they’re damned?

Still on an embankment over the burning sands, Dante and Virgil encounter three more of the homosexuals in the seventh circle of hell. These are three Guelph heroes. And they’re going to give the pilgrim—and the poet behind him—a lesson he will never forget. All the good intentions in the world don’t create a good civic society.

This episode of WALKING WITH DANTE is my interview with Kristen Hook, a Dantista writing her PhD dissertation on Inferno, Canto X. She’ll talk about incarnational poetry and the empty space that Dante’s friend and rival poet, Guido Cavalcanti, opens up inside of INFERNO.

My assumption is that the homosexuals are punished in INFERNO, Canto XV. I certainly stand with the bulk of the commentary tradition. But am I right? There are now many other ideas. Let’s talk it through and see what others have to say.

The pilgrim, Dante’s got one more thing to ask: prurient gossip. And Brunetto Latini’s got one more thing to say: Don’t forget my book! But there are deep ironies here. The two of them have been nattering on about writerly fame. And about pure Roman blood. All while Exhibit A, Virgil, has been walking right beside them.

After Brunetto Latini’s history lesson and prophecy, Dante doesn’t respond as a student to the master. He responds as one writer to another. He offers all the writerly tropes: rhetorical skill, doubt, bravado, and the hope that his text will be read, even glossed, the only way to find fame in his world. The soul may be eternal. The writer? Not necessarily.

Brunetto Latini has questions for our pilgrim, Dante. But Dante only has confessions. He has to tell his teacher what happened—using Brunetto’s own words. Do we need writer to explain what happens to us? Brunetto may not. He sets off on a history lesson and then a prophecy for the pilgrim’s (and the poet’s) fate. Inferno, Canto XV, gets stranger by the line. So many agendas, so much talking across each other!

Dante, our pilgrim, encounters the man who was his teacher (or who he wants us to think was his teacher): Brunetto Latini. Their relationship is that of a father and a son. Or an older poet and a younger poet. Or maybe those are the same thing. No wonder INFERNO, Canto XV is so fraught. It’s never easy to find your mentor, especially when he’s in hell.

We’ve come to the burning sands, not just to see them, but to walk down the levy that Virgil has called the most amazing sight of hell. We’re in Canto XV of INFERNO, starting to walk among those violent against nature: the Sodomites. But not yet. Up first, poetic excess. And pilgrim doubt. Because we’re about to enter the hellish heart of the writerly project: the quest for fame.

Join me, Mark Scarbrough, on the podcast WALKING WITH DANTE as I interview J. Simon Harris, a poet who is currently translating Dante’s INFERNO (and COMEDY) into English AND in terza rima.

We finish Canto XIV of Dante's INFERNO with a brief coda: two questions from Dante to Virgil, further clarifying the hydraulics of hell—and also bringing up more problems of sewing the classical world into the Christian world. Then we move on to some fascinating listener questions that have come in via emails and DMs about Canto XIV.

Inferno, Canto XIV is often seen as a twofer: Capaneus, then the Old Man Of Crete. But Dante is surely up to more than that in COMEDY. He's getting at the classical/Christian matrix. And he’s complicating the sophistication of Inferno, Canto VII. The Old Man Of Crete is the other side of the Capaneus coin. And brings us back to the notion that hell is a human landscape.