Marie's poems are written from an unmistakably female perspective: her stories are almost exclusively controlled by the actions of women. Themes such as childcare and, most prominently, the sexual frustration of young women forcibly married to older men are a central concern of her lays.
I'd like to focus on one particular lay, called Lanval, not only because it's a great poem, but also for the fascinating role that homosexuality plays in its story.
"Lanval" tells the story of a knight called Lanval, one of the best members of Arthur's court. One day, when Arthur distributes a bunch of lands around the members of his court, he forgets Lanval because Arthur's a complete fucking tool (this is a recurrent theme in Arthurian romance).
So Lanval, depressed, travels into the woods and lies down for a nap. But as he is about to fall asleep, he is approached by a lady, the most beautiful he's ever seen.
There is one difference, however, between the sodomy trial that doesn't take place and the lese-majeste trial that does. By accusing Lanval of falsely boasting about his lover, it becomes necessary for him to prove not only that he has a lover, but that she is the most beautiful woman in all the land.
Indeed, the lover's arrival in Arthur's court is the poetic climax of the lay: it is the poem's only truly lavish description.
"The lady was dressed in a white tunic and shift, laced left and right so as to reveal her sides. Her body was comely, her hips low, her neck whiter than snow on a branch; her eyes were bright and her face white, her mouth fair and her nose well-placed; her eyebrows were brown and her brow fair, and her hair curly and rather blond."
You read this and tell me this was written by a straight girl.
Everyone. Everyone is watching her.
"There was no one in the town, humble or powerful, old or young, who did not watch her arrival [...] No one who had looked at her could have failed to be inspired with real joy."
This lady, Marie wants us to know, is really, really something. Her long description (33 lines!) is the climax of the poem. This woman's beauty is both what brings us the poem's happy ending, and the final, explosive display of the poet's skill.
But the one reason *why* the lady's beauty is so important, why she rides into the town to bring everyone joy through the sheer power of her hotness, is not what we assume it is. We've been tricked into thinking that because she's showing up to save Lanval, her description is through his eyes, that the lady's beauty exists for the man's sole pleasure.
The very opposite is true. Even though everyone watches her ride into town, she's only there for one pair of eyes: Guinevere's.
Guinevere had a perfectly good case against Lanval when she accused him of homosexuality. It was not uncommon for single men to be the targets of such accusations in the 12th century. What's more, by claiming that Lanval lied about her looks, Guinevere is setting herself up for embarrassment by asking to be presented with a better-looking woman than herself.
And why would she ever want to see a woman even hotter than she is? What possible reason would she hav-
The accusation is, in theory, a complete waste of time. It is dropped as soon as it is introduced, and contributes nothing to the actual plot of Lanval. But, thematically, it is the key to find out what is really going on in this poem.
This is a poem written by a woman who always wrote about women, and which is structured entirely by female desire. It is about female desire.
The poem is saturated with themes of secrecy and sexual frustration. Lanval's mistress tells him that she will appear whenever he calls her name -- as long as it is a place away from prying eyes and ears, a bit like, say, for example, a closet.
When Lanval breaks out in anger against Guinevere, by revealing the truth of his sexual activity, he simultaneously brings his sexual life under the eye of the judicial system, and makes it impossible to continue living this sexual life. Sound familiar?
@garfiald Damn, I'm super curious about this. I've totally bought into the "everyone who wasn't a cleric or noble person was illiterate" myth. But rationally that doesn't make sense unless we assume it was a bunch of priests and lords going around making lewd graffiti on ancient walls and stuff.
The one "exception" is that it seems widely accepted that the Scots had incredibly high literacy rates. (Of course this is mostly European stuff; the rest of the world I was hardly taught about.)

@garfiald Interesting! So even in the 16th century, there wasn't a self-consciousness about the Renaissance as a "break" with the middle ages?
That's a little more consistent with my understanding of historical subjectivity than the narrative I'd heard growing up.
@garfiald Ok cool, good that I'm following.
So the narrative I grew up on, "cyclical time vs linear time," was it just never really "cyclical" in the middle ages or is it more like the divide just starts centuries later than pop historians claim?