Monks and Roses

And I asked myself, frightened and rapt,
who was she who rose before me like the dawn, beautiful as the moon, radiant as the sun, terribilis ut castrorum acies ordinata...

- UMBERTO ECO, The Name of the Rose

Sometimes on this blog, or in conversation with my friends, I refer to myself as a "monk". It isn't even that much of a joke - when I'm not on the road filming spanking porn, I lead a perfectly austere and reclusive lifestyle. I live off simple food and water, I rarely drink alcohol, I don't smoke, I don't do drugs and I only go out once in a blue moon. My dwellings are small and spartan, just the way I like it. My day is rigidly regimented. More than anything, I enjoy spending time with my books whenever I can. All I really need in life is a bed, a chair, a table, a bookshelf and a PC (just another big book, really).

I haven't taken an oath of celibacy, but I can go for months or even years as if I had and not miss anything at all (it helps if you're an imaginative person). I'm also not a religious man, as I mentioned in Penitentiam Agite!, my Easter post last year. But I am not anti-religious or a militant atheist, either - merely an agnostic, one with a profound scholarly interest in religions as systems of thought and important cultural forces. If I had lived during the Middle Ages, I probably would have been a monk - why not, it certainly beats being a peasant or a man-at-arms. Medieval monks were the scholars of their age, preserving, copying and commenting the wisdom of the ancient world. It's pretty much the same job I do today.

I daydream of being a writer or illustrator, always locked up in the scriptorium while his brothers are gardening or brewing beer. It's nice to dream of being a library monk. Of course, I would have been too much of a pig-headed individualist to fit into the monastic life, not to mention that I'm not big on getting up before sunrise. But as an idealised fantasy, it attracts me immensely. In some of my less sociable daydreams, I have made an oath of silence so I don't have to talk to anyone. Or I have been walled in altogether - they only pass me food, drink and books through a small opening.

Since I'm a straight spanko and neither completely celibate nor interested in M/M action, I can't keep other, more outlandish elements from creeping into my fantasies. In the monastery I envision, there are both monks and nuns, living together. The nuns are equal in terms of gender roles and do pretty much the same stuff the men do. Not at all realistic, I know, but the idea undoubtedly has its charm. I sometimes make up for the historical and social inaccuracy by imagining an alternate scenario where the nuns are little more than slaves. However, I find that one less appealing.

Either way, there are plenty of M/F spankings, and in the main, egalitarian universe, there is F/M, too. As we all know, a life of devotion to God and prayer requires strict, unfailing discipline! So that is what the brothers and sisters are enforcing on each other with birches, canes and whips. Sometimes one-on-one, sometimes in smaller groups, sometimes perhaps in front of the whole assembly - for the truly serious cases. Corporal punishment certainly existed in real monasteries and there is no shortage of historical accounts for inspiration. As well as that, a top dressed in monk's robes simply tends to look good - just watch the fabulous, opening caning scene in Special Case: The Colonel by Elitepain for confirmation.

But let's go back to something a bit more restrained and reality-based. My favourite monk story in book form is The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco, and while it is very much a work of erudite postmodernist fiction, mixing an Arthur Conan Doyle-style murder mystery with references to Borge and semiotics, it is set in a Benedictine abbey in the early 14th century. Two visitors, a Franciscan friar named William of Baskerville (Eco's version of Sherlock Holmes) and his apprentice Adso (Dr. Watson), investigate a series of mysterious deaths at the abbey, sneak around its labyrinthine library at night and search for a lost book of Aristotle which seems to lie at the heart of the riddle. Along the way, Adso has an erotic encounter with a nameless peasant girl, and falls in love with her. She could be the "rose" in the title, even though I prefer a less obvious interpretation.

It's a great little novel, rich in layers and textures, also describing in detail the monastic life and the various religious conflicts of the time (which is swell, I'm always fond of heresies). The holy inquisition makes an appearance, too. A couple of Latin passages add fodder for the patient and classically educated reader as the book goes on, but translations are provided, of course. There is also a well-known movie version from 1986, starring Sean Connery as brother William, Christian Slater as Adso and Valentina Vargas as the girl. It takes some liberties with the book, but is pretty good as a medieval detective story - the true complexity of Eco's work is impossible to capture on film, anyway.

A scene of self-flagellation is included in the film, but unfortunately, the monk performing it is bald, pastry-skinned and weighs approximately 700 pounds! Not to sound superficial, but even if you like guys, it's probably hard to eroticise. The love scene between Adso and the girl is more inspiring, I remember that it kept my adolescent imagination pretty busy all those years ago. She makes some cute little sounds.

Parts of the movie were shot at Eberbach Abbey, a former Cistercian monastery in Hesse, Germany. I'm told that the people there get somewhat annoyed when tourists ask about it, because it's a question they get to hear all the time. The library maze was built in a studio in Rome, though, and the exteriors of the abbey are apparently a movie set as well. In any case, the look and the architecture of the whole thing has significantly shaped my kinky monk CP fantasies. I shall have to travel to Eberbach one day, to at least see some of the locations first-hand.

Maybe in 2010. This year, I'm spending the Easter holidays in the Eifel mountains. As I'm with a newfound spanko friend, I will undoubtedly have much to tell about that as well - unless she manages to cut down on the smart-ass remarks and behaves like a proper young lady for once, in which case I won't have to take her over my knee. But I doubt it. Ah well, we can't always live like monks and nuns! Not like real ones, anyway.

I wish you all a happy Easter, and see you next week.