How Does The Pardoner'S Prologue Compare To Modern Storytelling?

Chaucer’s Pardoner would fit right into a TikTok debate about grifters. His prologue is basically a medieval TED Talk on manipulation, complete with performative vulnerability ('Look how bad I am!'). Modern storytelling, though, tends to frame such characters as tragic or complex—think 'BoJack Horseman.' The Pardoner is just gleefully awful, like a reality TV villain who leans into the role. Both styles entertain, but the Pardoner’s lack of remorse feels bolder than today’s trend of 'explaining' bad behavior with trauma.

Comparing the 'Pardoner’s Prologue' to modern storytelling is like seeing the roots of today’s dark comedies. The Pardoner’s shameless confession of his greed—while still trying to sell fake relics—is darkly funny, much like the humor in 'Fargo' or 'Barry,' where characters are awful yet oddly charming. Modern stories often soften hypocrisy with charisma, but the Pardoner doesn’t bother; he’s upfront about his corruption, which feels almost punk.

Another difference is pacing. The Pardoner’s tale is dense with moral lessons, while modern stories often prioritize plot twists or emotional beats. But both share a love for irony—the Pardoner condemns greed while embodying it, just like 'Succession’s' Logan Roy lecturing about loyalty while betraying everyone. The core of storytelling hasn’t changed; we just dress it differently now.

The 'Pardoner’s Prologue' feels like a medieval podcast confession—raw, self-serving, and weirdly relatable. Modern true-crime storytellers or influencers who monetize their scandals aren’t so different. The Pardoner’s blunt honesty about his scams ('I preach only for greed') mirrors today’s 'hustle culture' where people boast about exploiting systems. Both eras enjoy a villain who winks at the audience, though modern ones usually get redemption arcs. The Pardoner doesn’t—and that’s refreshing.

The 'Pardoner’s Prologue' is like a 14th-century Twitter thread: short, savage, and self-aware. Modern antiheroes—Walter White, Fleabag—owe a debt to his unapologetic hypocrisy. But where today’s stories often moralize ('greed is bad'), the Pardoner just shrugs and pockets the cash. His lack of growth is almost subversive in an era obsessed with character arcs. Both old and new storytelling love a good scammer, but the Pardoner’s refusal to learn makes him uniquely timeless.

The 'Pardoner's Prologue' from Chaucer's 'The Canterbury Tales' is a fascinating study in how storytelling has evolved yet retained some core elements. The Pardoner is a master manipulator, using his tale to expose his own hypocrisy while still trying to swindle his audience—a meta-narrative trick that feels surprisingly modern. Shows like 'Breaking Bad' or novels like 'Gone Girl' use unreliable narrators in a similar way, making us question the storyteller’s motives.

What’s striking is how the Pardoner’s themes—greed, corruption, and moral decay—are timeless. Modern stories like 'The Wolf of Wall Street' or 'Succession' explore these same ideas, just with different settings. The Pardoner’s blunt self-awareness (“I preach for money”) even mirrors today’s antiheroes, who revel in their flaws. Yet, modern storytelling often leans into character depth and psychological realism, whereas the Pardoner is more of a symbolic figure. Both approaches work, but the Pardoner’s bluntness feels refreshing in an age of subtlety.