"[F]or it was twenty years and more from the time when this creature was able to recall [certain events] when it was written, for it was twenty years and more from the time when this creature had forsaken the world and eagerly devoted herself to our Lord before this book was written, even though this creature was greatly advised to have her tribulations and experiences written down, and a Carmelite friar offered to write them willingly, if she would agree. And she was warned in her spirit that she should not write so soon. [...] And yet then it was first written by a man who wrote neither good English nor good German, so it was unreadable except by special grace, for there was so much malicious talk and slander of this creature that few people would believe her. And so at last a priest was greatly moved to write this treatise, and he could not easily read it for four whole years. And then at the request of this creature and the urging of his own conscience he tried again to read it, and it was much easier than it had been previously."

Margery Kempe was a female visionary living in England in the late 14th and early 15th centuries. She has a sort of Wife of Bath vibe to her: she goes on tons of pilgrimages, is very outspoken, preaches (though for more spiritual purposes than does the Wife), and doesn't let any man control her.

In her Book, Kempe reveals how she experienced several visions of Hell and Jesus, the first of which was prompted by an illness. This special grace she enjoys causes her to cry a lot. And we do mean a lot.

The townspeople tire of her boo-hooing really quickly, because really, ain't nobody got time for that. Additionally, she gets herself into some trouble during her travels. Why? She won't stop preaching, and non-ordained folks and women (um, Kempe was both of these things) were not supposed to be going around preaching the Good Lord's word back then.

Her heretical ways have the potential to bring great wrath down upon her, because she is accused several times of being a Lollard. Which basically means a heretic.

The quotation we cite here comes from the "Prologue" of her Book, and it tells us how her story came to be written down. While she was from the upper classes of the time, she was still a woman, and women weren't really allowed to be educated types in the Middle Ages. Sigh.

So, Margery was illiterate. She could not write this autobiography herself. But, like a true enterprising individual, she recites it to someone else. And good thing, because now we can enjoy it, all these years later.

This is a Man's World

Margery had a couple of strikes against her: she was a woman, she was an eccentric, and she fancied herself to be capable of preaching to the people. As you read in the book, after Margery starts experiencing her visions, she becomes quite pious.

She starts fasting, refuses to have sex with her husband, and embarks on what amounts to one long, continuous pilgrimage. This is how Margery "forsake[s] the world and eagerly devote[s] herself to Christ." Girl is serious about this God thing.

Unfortunately, her neighbors read her behavior in a different way. They think she's a huge show-off, and that her religious antics are completely over-the-top. Mainly because she's not a man. That's her primary offense. Sigh.

As a result, our gal Margery becomes a bit of an outcast, who faces "much malicious talk and slander." Kind of like in Mean Girls, only worse.

Margery is so dedicated that she still wants her visions and experiences to be written down for others to read. And, presumably, her story will allow readers to gain some kind of spiritual insight. There's only one big problem there: there weren't exactly a lot of women writers during the Medieval Era. Julian of Norwich is pretty much it for England's Authors with XX Chromosomes.

Which meant that, for Margery to have any kind of street cred with her book, she had to drum up some outside authority. And that's where all the men listed in her "Prologue" come in.

First, we have the "Carmelite friar." As a big-time Church muckity-muck, he certainly fits the bill. But Margery rejects him, for whatever reason. Then, she moves on to the mysterious man whose English and German are so bad that his writing is "unreadable except by special grace."

Ha. Well played, Margery. Well played. Now, not only does she use men to import some (sadly) much-needed authority to her work, but she also pulls in divine grace and makes fun of some dude in the process. She's really looking for people to take her tales to heart.

At last, she settles on a priest who ends up being her scribe. This fellow is initially "greatly moved" to write down her experiences, but is then unable to do so for several years… until "his own conscience" "urges" him, and he seals the deal.

If the story of writing her story down is this exciting and intricate, just wait until you read the actual autobiography. Phewf. You're in for a treat.

St. Margery of Kempe?

Kempe's desire to build textual authority affects the structure of her Book in lots of ways. First, we're sure you noticed that Margery continually refers to herself as "this creature." And no, she's not talking about the Creature from the Black Lagoon. Yikes.

One reason she does this is to downplay her status as a female author. She's trying to avoid that whole problematic "she" pronoun that'll call attention to her womanliness. Naming herself "this creature" also introduces what's known as the "humility topos" in Medieval Literature.

Which is exactly what we do at Shmoop. (Get ready to laugh. Here we go.) The humility topos is when writers purposefully adopt a super meek and self-deprecating persona in their prose… all while really knowing that they're actually quite smart and good at what they're doing.

Teehee. (We're hilarious, we know.)

Anyway, it makes perfect sense that Margery would take on this faux-humble rhetorical stance when recounting her experiences; while she's speaking them, a man is the one writing them down. So the actual, literal author of the text better humble himself before her words.

Margery's stories also draw on the lives of medieval women saints. One feature of this type of writing (the fancy-pants term for it is "hagiography") is that it's usually a male author who writes about the female saint. Which is totes what we see in the Book.

Margery's "tribulations," or suffering, are another aspect of hagiography. As is an extreme focus on the spiritual life over the secular—you gotta pay attention to those inner voices, to your "spirit," at all costs.

Suffice it to say: Kempe's Book situates itself quite nicely in the hagiography tradition. And it was also basically the first autobiography ever. And have we mentioned that Kempe was a lady? Yeah, this is pretty groundbreaking stuff.