Here's a lively cast of characters with a host of boisterous tales to tell! One day I'll re-read the original: Chaucer is a pick. Peter Ackroyd's retelling is a so-so. Why? In a word, misogyny: whether of the casual or deliberate kind, there's no let up. The characters, Chaucer and Ackroyd all fall back on "no offence meant: just repeating what I heard". While it may be accepted as par for the course in Middle English verse, in Modern English ?