This is a superb and moving exploration, via the myth of Cupid and Psyche, of the kind of love that poses as the intense love of another, but is in re...moreThis is a superb and moving exploration, via the myth of Cupid and Psyche, of the kind of love that poses as the intense love of another, but is in reality self-love. Orual, the ugly sister of the hauntingly beautiful Psyche, cannot bear the thought that Psyche might really find fulfillment in her marriage with the God of the Mountain. In fact, she is jealous that anyone could command Psyche's love more than herself.
Orual is partly misled because of her devotion to her childhood tutor, the Fox, whom Lewis portrays as a kind of blend of classical learning, a mixture of the Stoic and Epicurean philosophers. The Fox is not ill-intentioned--quite the opposite, in fact, and Lewis' portrayal of him is affectionate and compassionate. But pre-Christian philosophies simply cannot understand the intensity of true love, and the Fox fails.
Woven into the tale is the symbol of Orual's veil, which she starts wearing when she becomes queen. At first, she wears it to conceal her ugliness, but she finds that it actually enhances her mystique.
Orual believes she has a grievance against the gods, and it's only at the end, when she faces the gods and states her grievance, that she comes to the realization that her love of Psyche has not been honest. It has been a selfish love, symbolized by her ugly face; later, she had suppressed her love (her veil), and it's not until the end of the novel that she finally possesses the fce of the title.
In many ways, this novel is atypical of Lewis--the utterly pagan setting, reminiscent of the scapegoat-societies depicted by Rene Girard, the first-person narrative told from the perspective of a woman. But the themes--the concealment of true identity, the selfish love posing as something else--are all typical of C. S. Lewis. It's not as easy to enjoy as The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe or even That Hideous Strength, but it's a rich and rewarding reading experience.(less)
The first chapter, which is as far as I've gotten so far, is well written, and the illustrations are stunning. I'd like to know a bit more than I do ...moreThe first chapter, which is as far as I've gotten so far, is well written, and the illustrations are stunning. I'd like to know a bit more than I do about the history of art.(less)
I haven't read very far in this, but it seems to be a beautifully written book. The chapter on February, cutting through a tree and going backwards i...moreI haven't read very far in this, but it seems to be a beautifully written book. The chapter on February, cutting through a tree and going backwards in time as the saw cuts through the rings, is superb.(less)
This is a wonderful novel about smuggling that I read when I was a kid. There's a terrifying chapter in which the central character accidentally gets...moreThis is a wonderful novel about smuggling that I read when I was a kid. There's a terrifying chapter in which the central character accidentally gets sealed in a family tomb, and a very suspenseful episode involving being lowered into the well of Carisbrooke Castle on the Isle of Wight. Highly recommended to all lovers of adventure!(less)
Anyone who knows me or has read my books, particularly The Hawk and the Huntress, will know that I have a strong romantic streak in me. I love Erroll...moreAnyone who knows me or has read my books, particularly The Hawk and the Huntress, will know that I have a strong romantic streak in me. I love Erroll Flynn movies, and was interested in Scaramouche because it was by the author who brought us The Sea-Hawk and Captain Blood. I confess that I mostly enjoyed it, but found it curiously unengaging.
The novel is set at the time of the French Revolution. André-Louis Moreau's friend is killed in a duel by the villainous Marquis de la Tour d'Azyr, and he swears a unique kind of revenge. The Marquis had criticized the friend for being dangerously eloquent about class conflict, and Andre swears to use his own eloquence to further the friend's cause, even though he does not personally believe in it. Andre stirs up trouble in Brittany, and hides from the authorities by joining a theatrical troupe as the commedia dell'arte character Scaramouche.
So much for the premise. What's fascinating about the book is how unappealing Andre is, and how appealing the Marquis becomes as the plot progresses. Andre has a bad habit of not telling people important information, and then holding them accountable for not knowing it; and the Marquis, for all his villainy (he's a womanizer and an oppressor of the poor as well as a murderer) gradually earns the sympathy of the reader and of other characters by his genuine love for Aline, Andre's cousin with whom he too is in love. Thus, on a certain level, the novel is about the redemptive power of love.
One of the problems we encounter with Andre is his dishonesty. It turns out that his best vocation is as an actor, and he's constantly playing a part, even with his intimate friends. This becomes frustrating for the other characters, and sometiems for the reader. Characters who do not know him well characterize him as hard-hearted; the reader understands that this is merely the part he chooses to play at the moment. In any case, he expects scrupulous honesty from everyone else, but plays his own cards very close to the chest. He often misinterprets what he sees, and thus his refusal to be honest causes many of the problems he faces. [Here we should ignore, I suppose, the fact that great acting is always honest. If an actor lies, you can tell, and hence he's not a good actor. Oh well.]
The novel also has a political theme. Towards the end, the Marquis indulges in a long soliloquy, in which he points out that the idea of political equality is chimerical, and that, in truth, society will always be a class-based one--a new class-based order will, he predicts, arise from the Revolution (which is happening in the streets outside as he speaks). It's not very sophisticated political philosophy, but it shows an awareness of history and the forces that shape events of great moment.
All of which could be very sophisticated in a swashbuckling adventure. Alas, Sabatini is not the author to pull it off. He intrudes into the narrative frequently. At the beginning of Part Two, he alludes to Andre's memoirs for the first time, and then does so frequently for the rest of the book. The effect is abrupt and jarring. And rather than let the characters' words and actions speak for themselves, he will intrude into the novel and tell us what the characters are thinking and feeling, and sometimes how we should respond to them. A good example of this is when Sabatini tells us--over and again--that Andre considers himself to be a stoic. Andre never says that, but Sabatini does frequently.
My conclusion is that Sabatini had a wonderful idea for a novel, but he wasn't a great enough author to pull it off. It's entertaining enough, but it's also easy to put down and forget for a few days. And once it's over, it leaves absolutely no residue in the mind. Compared to Alexandre Dumas, for example, Sabatini looks very poor.(less)
Crime and Punishment has the reputation of being one of the greatest novels ever written, a sophisticated investigation of the spiritual and mental st...moreCrime and Punishment has the reputation of being one of the greatest novels ever written, a sophisticated investigation of the spiritual and mental state of a sinner/murderer, a penetrating exposé of the human condition.
I suppose it is all of these things.
It's also an examination of how heartless philosophies can lead to alienation and self-loathing. Raskolnikov's philosophy, which seems to be vaguely Darwinian, is that some people are born superior to others and are therefore exempt from the law or social judgement. To prove this to himself, he murders the old lady. But wait ... perhaps it's a fair cop, but society is to blame? Luzhin's philosophy is that the best kind of philanthropy is to serve yourself, because in looking after yourself, you are looking after the human race in general. So, the rich keep getting richer, and the poor poorer. Raskolnikov, in abject poverty, kills the old lady to obtain her money and kick-start his career. But wait ... there's also the house-painter Nikolai, who holds the somewhat masochistic opinion that we must all embrace suffering because it's good for the soul. So Raskolnikov murders the old lady, knowing that he will suffer for the deed, because he will be elevated by his having embraced suffering.
Add to this the wild emotions of the main characters, endlessly analyzing themselves and their friends, families, and acquaintances. Raskolnikov is even wild in his indifference. At one point, he agonizes over having used the word seemed to another (probably Porfiry).
On the whole, it seemed to me that the whole novel was what would be produced if a philosopher went to see a lot of Victorian melodramas, really liked them, and wrote a book. It's so expository, it barely seems like fiction at all. And Raskolnikov's redemption at the end--on page 549 of a novel 551 pages long--seemed very contrived, and even corny. Because Sonya loves him???
All that being the case, it's really odd that, once I started reading it, I couldn't put it down. I think the next time I read it--and since I'm a slow reader, that will be far in the future--I'll get a lot out of it. My impression is that there's a lot more to the book than is immediately apparent.(less)
This, the second of Ian Fleming's James Bond novels, is well written and absorbing, as usual, but you can see the beginnings of the attitudes that hav...moreThis, the second of Ian Fleming's James Bond novels, is well written and absorbing, as usual, but you can see the beginnings of the attitudes that have given Fleming a bad reputation--namely his sexism (Solitaire exists only to desire Bond, it seems; there's a salacious description of a stripper at one point). There are also hints of the racism that would be more visible later on. On the other hand, the story is very compelling, and Fleming's style is superb, as always.
A note on the 1973 movie version. It's quite surprising how many of the individual incidents the movie preserved, whilst hanging them from an entirely different plot.(less)
This is a great read, and more thought-provoking than one would expect, having only seen the movie versions of the James Bond books. Casino Royale is...moreThis is a great read, and more thought-provoking than one would expect, having only seen the movie versions of the James Bond books. Casino Royale is the novel that starts it all. Bond's assignment is to discredit a SMERSH agent, LeChiffre, by bankrupting him at cards.
The Bond books should be read in chonological order. At this point in his story, Bond has just received his Double-O number, meaning that he's killed two people in assignments. His assistant on the mission, Vesper Lynd, is the woman who offers him a way out of his unpleasant business, but when she double-crosses him and commits suicide, he swears revenge on the organization that caused her to turn. His vendetta against SMERSH gives him purpose, keeps him in the Service, and unifies the books that follow.
The 2006 movie version is a good interpretation and updating of the novel, and changing the card game from baccarat to poker allowed for some nice psychology, but really, the books are fine indeed, whereas the movies are at best spectacular and often indifferent in quality. But Fleming's style and vision are compelling. His Bond is a plausible spy, conflicted about his job, increasingly nihilistic as his story progresses and the bodies mount (I mean in other books, of course). And this is the book that sets the stage for all that.
One point regarding Fleming's style. It's very much to his credit that he makes a game of baccarat--which depends entirely on luck--so gripping. And the pink patches of light, the sun reflecting on pools of blood, marching across the wall as the day progresses is one of the most vivid images I've ever come across--it's one of the things that really stayed with me after I first read the book, back in 1978. Superb!(less)
This is the worst book T. H. White ever wrote--really, really lousy. There's not even a shadow of the genius he showed in The Once and Future King. ...moreThis is the worst book T. H. White ever wrote--really, really lousy. There's not even a shadow of the genius he showed in The Once and Future King. Try again, Tim.(less)
This late-14th or early-15th century romance is not particularly good, but it is particularly interesting. FOr one thing, the hero is not an unnamed ...moreThis late-14th or early-15th century romance is not particularly good, but it is particularly interesting. FOr one thing, the hero is not an unnamed knight out to establish his reputation, but Arthur himself. In the course of his adventures--what Cedrick E Pickford in his article for Arthurian Literature in the Middle Ages: A Collaborative History calls "a number of banal adventures" (355)--he encounters a sea-monster who appears to be a mounted knight, a dwarf with a gigantic son who has been suckled by a unicorn, a bridge protected by rotating knives, and a beautiful damsel who urges him to do his worst in a tournament. On the way, his nearly constant companion is a cowardly parrot, who provides a kind of sardonic commentary on everything that happens.
In a more recent article on this romance, for Arthur of the French: The Arthurian Legend in Medieval French and Occitan Literature, Jane H. M. Taylor writes that "We should probably imagine a writer particularly well versed in the Arthurian repertoire. Yet he was not slavishly wedded to its conventions: the premise of the romance is a challenge to all our Arthurian preconceptions” (513). And this is true. Early on, Arthur makes a rash promise to the Lady of the Blonde Hair, and she enjoins him to do badly at a tournament. He does so, but obviously feels the sting of losing his chivalric reputation. To make up for this, the Lady offers him her body, at which he is verbally and physically abusive to her. The author seems to be providing an ironic commentary on courtly love, by the end of the fourteenth century no longer a notion that authors were always treating seriously.
Furthermore, Arthur's adventures are not entirely inconsequential. On several occasions, his clear intent is to establish good government. The parrot's sarcastic remarks continually undercut the conventions of chivalric romance. And when Arthur comes to the bridge protected by the rotating knives, he discovers that the whole contraption is controled by wires--a feat of engineering rather than magic.
On the whole, then, it's a worthwhile romance, slightly satirical or at least ironic about chivalric romance. It's just a little tedious to read, in spite of Thomas E. Vesce's excellent translation.(less)
This is a useful study of the Lancelot legend, if you haven't read the stories Weston describes. She points out how Lancelot was a late addition to t...moreThis is a useful study of the Lancelot legend, if you haven't read the stories Weston describes. She points out how Lancelot was a late addition to the Arthurian legend, and not one of the original companions of Arthur at all; that his legend did not originally involve his being the lover of Queen Guinevere at all, and that this love affair was added to his adventures under the influence of the popular Tristan-and-Isolde legend. Much of her work consists of summaries of the principal texts--Ulrich von Zatzikhoven's Lanzelet, the obscure Lancelot et le Cerf au Pied Blanc [Lancelot and the Hart with the White Foot], Chrétien de Troyes' Lancelot: Or, the Knight of the Cart, and the Prose Lancelot of the Lake. Like a lot of scholarship from this period, though (the book was published in 1901), it has some limitations as to its methods. Weston's more famous book From Ritual to Romance has some cultural importance because of its influence over T. S. Eliot, but isn't greatly useful for scholarly purposes. On the other hand, this book, like Weston's other little-known book, Legend of Sir Gawain Studies upon Its Original Scope and Significance, is very useful to those wishing to write a fantasy novel based upon the Round Table knights.(less)
This romance of Lanzelet (i.e., Lancelot) was written in Middle High German in about 1200-1204 by the Swiss poet Ulrich von Zatzikhoven. In his book,...moreThis romance of Lanzelet (i.e., Lancelot) was written in Middle High German in about 1200-1204 by the Swiss poet Ulrich von Zatzikhoven. In his book, Arthurian Romance: A Short Introduction, Derek Pearsall calls it a "crude potboiler" (51), an in Arthurian Literature in the Middle Ages: A Collaborative History, Hendricus Spaarnay describes it as "an Arthurian romance in its most elementary stage" (439). Both judgements are well justified. This is not a well written poem. The characters are stereotypes and Ulrich does not interrogate the world of chivalric romance intelligently or imaginatively. But it's an important romance and, for the most part, it is entertaining in this prose translation by Kenneth G. T. Webster. More to the point, Lanzelet is an important text in the development of the legend of Sir Lancelot du Lac.
ALthough Lanzelet was written after Chrétien de Troyes' Lancelot: Or, the Knight of the Cart, Ulrich does not seem to have known about it, and he therefore preserves a tradition about Lancelot that pre-dates Chrétien's version of it. In this presumably earlier tradition, Lancelot has four different lovers, but none of them is Queen Guenever. There is an episode towards the end in which, as in Chrétien's poem, Lanzelet takes part in an expedition to rescue the queen, but he doesn't actually rescue her; in fact, he rescues two of Arthur's knights given to a magician as hostages as part of a deal to rescue her.
The poem begins with an account of Lanzelet's early life, abducted by water-feys and raised on an island in the middle of a lake, and this persisted as a part of Lancelot's story, most notably in the anonymous French Prose Lancelot of the Lake. Apart from this and the abduction of the queen, none of the episodes resembles any adventure Lancelot has for the rest of the Arthurian tradition. Some of them are best known for happening to other knights.
The narrative is not very unified, from a modern point of view. The medieval view was that a work was unified if it were all about one hero, whereas modern readers often prefer a unified plot. Ulrich's poem follows Lanzelet from birth to death, and the episodes are discreet. They seem to have been composed for performance, with each episode a single night's entertainment.
FOr the most part, this is an entertaining romance; and if you want to understand the development of the Lancelot legend, or of the Arthurian legend more generally, it's an important poem to read.(less)
The Old French poem The Romance of Tristan, by Beroul, is one of the earliest extant works to narrate the story of Tristan and Yseut.
The...moreThe Old French poem The Romance of Tristan, by Beroul, is one of the earliest extant works to narrate the story of Tristan and Yseut.
The story, briefly, concerns Tristan, a Cornish knight who is nephew to King Mark, who falls in love with Mark’s wife Yseut when they both accidentally drink a love potion. The lovers then find themselves in one scrape after another, as the evil dwarf Frocin and three evil barons who are jealous of their prowess and popularity attempt to frame them for their misbehaviour.
Of course, the problem is that Tristan and Yseut really are guilty. They’re committing the sin of adultery, no doubt about it. But Beroul creates sympathy for them by depicting vividly their suffering when they are exiled in the forest of Morrois, and by showing clearly that the love potion absolves them of all responsibility for their actions. The barons, moreover, are jealous of them, and clearly villainous in their behaviour. King Mark is weak, vacillating between love for Tristan and Yseut and hotheaded wrath at them. King Arthur, called in to witness Yseut’s oath of fidelity in one scene, behaves with generosity to a leper, whom we know to be Tristan in disguise, aiding and abetting Yseut in an equivocation that will allow her to swear truthfully that she has been faithful to Mark. So Arthur is rightfully upholding wrongdoing, while Mark and the barons wrongfully uphold the right.
I don’t believe that the Tristan legend really seeks to uphold an alternative moral code, in which self-indulgence and oath-breaking are normal and admirable. Rather, Beroul is using the legend to point out that there are problems with justice and a moral code applied according to purely external signs. Tristan offers to submit himself to the justice system, in this case the feudal system of trial by combat, but Mark repeatedly refuses, presumably because Tristan could beat anyone at his court in single combat. And to outward appearances, Tristan and Yseut are both guilty of adultery; internally, however, they are excused because the effects of the potion are irresistible. Mark is wrong for suspecting Yseut merely on exterior appearances, even though he’s technically correct in his suspicions. Thus, the villain becomes not adulterous behaviour itself, but the superficiality that comes with hasty and uncharitable judgments and a rigid adherence to inflexible codes of justice. The world is problematic for Tristan and Yseut and their contemporaries.
Alan S. Fedrick’s translation is entertaining to read, and rendered in prose rather than in Beroul’s original verse. The poem is only fragmentary—both the beginning and the end of the story have been lost, and one must supplement one’s reading with other poems—a likely earlier poem by the German poet Eilhart Von Oberg, for example, or the contemporary French version by Thomas of Britain. Fedrick has provided summaries and even another brief romance, “The Madness of Tristan,” so that one’s reading experience can be complete. Overall, an excellent translation of an interesting (if technically not excellent) poem.
This is probably Chrétien de Troyes' greatest poem, beautifully translated into English octosyllabic couplets by Ruth Harwood Cline.
The st...moreThis is probably Chrétien de Troyes' greatest poem, beautifully translated into English octosyllabic couplets by Ruth Harwood Cline.
The story concerns the young knight Yvain who, having killed the Knight of the Fountain, falls in love with the knight's late wife, Laudine. So that's a bit of an awkward situation. Eventually, Laudine's lady-in-waiting, Lunete, is able to persuade Laudine to marry Yvain, as he will be able to protect her realm against an impending invasion. The invasion turns out to be by King Arthur, and not a threat at all. But Yvain asks if he can leave for a year to attend tournaments and other knightly exercises. When he forgets to return to Laudine at the end of the year, his trials begin.
This really is Chrétien at his best. The character psychology is plausible, the soliloquies and allegorical representations of their conflicted emotions don't get in the way of the story (as they sometimes do in Chrétien's Lancelot: Or, the Knight of the Cart). Most of all, Yvain's suffering once he has been rejected by Laudine, his humility before her, and the painfulness of her slow and somewhat ambiguous forgiveness all mark this as a romance of unequalled sensitivity.
Chrétien de Troyes is unusual among medieval romancers. Most Arthurian romances end with the marriage of the protagonist to a beautiful lady. In this romance, and in Chrétien's Erec and Enide, marriage occurs a third of the way into the story, enabling Chrétien to write a story about the pitfalls and trials of one of life's greatest adventures, marriage.(less)
Chrétien de Troyes’ poem, Lancelot, or, The Knight of the Cart, tells the story of Queen Guinevere’s abduction by Meleagant, a prince of the kingdom o...moreChrétien de Troyes’ poem, Lancelot, or, The Knight of the Cart, tells the story of Queen Guinevere’s abduction by Meleagant, a prince of the kingdom of Gorre, and his liberation of all the prisoners Meleagant has held there. It is also the first extant poem to give an account of Lancelot’s adulterous love for Guinevere. In many ways, it’s an odd poem. The first half seems almost Messianic, with Lancelot (unnamed by Chrétien at the time) destined to rescue the prisoners in the land of Gorre from their tyrannical captor, Meleagant; then it transforms into a tale of adulterous love.
Lancelot’s mission starts to become messianic with his lifting of the tomb lid (1900-09; 230-31). His actions release prisoners, and he’s the only person who can do it. One of these prisoners later tells him, “when one person can escape this imprisonment without trickery, all the others, I assure you, will be able to leave unchallenged” (2110-15; 233). This comment sets the whole adventure in a Harrowing of Hell mode, where Lancelot stands in for Christ, redeeming those souls ensnared by Satan through no fault of their own. They simply had the misfortune to be born BC rather than AD. Later, the joy of the released prisoners, and their ability to slay their captors even though it was principally through the efforts of “un seul chevalier” (2431; 237) reflects the belief that many are redeemed through the sacrifice of a single individual, i.e., Christ.
In some ways, this is a very poor poem, especially when compared with Yvain, Or, the Knight With the Lion. Arthur is an object almost of derision, Lancelot’s passion makes him subject to silly trances and has almost unmanned him, and Guinevere is so fickle one wonders why on earth Lancelot is attracted to her. It is a poem Chrétien does not seem happy with. Erec and Enide was about a knight reconciling his marriage with his life of chivalry, Yvain about a knight reconciling his life of chivalry with his marriage. Lancelot is about illicit love, and possibly the disharmonious theme did not appeal to Chrétien, since it could not be expressive of perfect love. This perhaps (according to Gaston Paris and those who followed him) is why Chrétien left the poem to Godefroi de Leigny to complete. It has also been suggested that the poem is an allegory of Chrétien’s relationship with Marie de Champagne, fictionalizing the trials a great man suffers on account of a woman’s whim. Arthur is a typical cuckold, weak, ineffectual, and pathetic—perhaps even comic. Guinevere must become personally unpalatable, submitting her lover to any number of unreasonable trials, and he must put up not only with the trials, but with her whims as well. There is no hint of any idealistic conflict within Lancelot, as there is in later versions of the story. He feels no guilt at sleeping with his lord’s wife, simply pleasure at being able to do so, nor is there any investigation into what has initially attracted Lancelot and Guinevere to one another. Possibly it is this also which so disgusted Chrétien that he could not finish it. However, the poem was tremendously influential—prior to it, Lancelot had had a very meagre biography, but afterwards, he became the major knight of the Round Table. Chrétien’s poem gave the Arthurian legend form. But none of the story is specific to Lancelot. Prior to Chrétien’s romance, he had no biography of his own, and all his adventures here have also been credited to other Round Table knights.
Chrétien is one of the first writers to develop the idea of allegory; it’s to be seen in the passage in which Love debates with Reason as to whether Lancelot should mount the cart (360-77; 211-12), in the debate between Generosity and Compassion (2836-65) when Lancelot is trying to decide whether to kill the knight who is at his mercy, and when Joy and Reason struggle to decide how the queen will greet the recently-released Lancelot (6820-53; 290-91). Each of these debates sets up a particular duality. The first pits an emotion against an intellectual capacity; the debate is essentially one between sense and sensibility. Emotion wins here, but only after a struggle. The second pits a chivalric virtue, generosity or largesse (OFr. largece), against a religious virtue, compassion or pity. Lancelot’s solution is to fight again, a brilliant reconciliation between the two apparently incompatible virtues. This to some extent characterizes Chrétien’s work: it repeatedly submits its hero to a series of tests in which two incompatible virtues vie. Lancelot becomes, to a certain extent, a model for behaviour. Eventually, the queen allows herself to be ruled by Reason, not Joy, so she is capable of suppressing her own desires.
Ruth Harwood Cline’s translation is masterful, taking Chrétien’s octosyllabic couplets in French and transforming them into octosyllabic couplets in English. And where I’ve checked it against the French, it’s remarkably accurate. Of all the translations of Chrétien, this is the most fun to read. And the poem itself is of tremendous importance to the history of Arthurian literature. It just doesn’t hang together very well (which is why I don’t give it a perfect rating)
This is an excellent edition of two Middle English accounts of King Arthur's death. The first is the Stanzaic Morte Arthur, which gives the romance e...moreThis is an excellent edition of two Middle English accounts of King Arthur's death. The first is the Stanzaic Morte Arthur, which gives the romance ending of Arthur's story, in which Lancelot and Guinevere are surprised together by Mordred. The second is the alliterative Morte Arthure, which follows the chronicle-tradition, in which the adultery is between Guinevere and Mordred.
The alliterative Morte Arthure is one of my favourite works of Arthurian literature. It's written in alliterative verse, and as such is a close cousin of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and a descendant of Beowulf. There's something intrinsically English about alliterative verse. Romance languages rhyme; English alliterates. But this is also one of the more subtle and complex portrayals of Arthur in medieval literature. He's neither an idealized monarch nor a tyrannical ruler. He starts off the poem with a legitimate cause for going to war with Lucius Hiberius, emperor of Rome. But in the climactic battle, Kay and Bedivere are killed, and he goes crazy. After this, he has no legitimate reason to ravage the countryside, but he does so anyway, until word reaches him of the disasters back in Britain.
The poem is also notable for two dream sequences, the latter of which is a dream of Fortune's Wheel, combined with a vision of the Nine Worthies.
Throughout, the anonymous author handles his style adeptly. You can hear the arms crash in his almost brutal alliterative rhythms!(less)
This poem really deserves a much higher rating that this, and I love the Early English Text Society; but the edition is just so old--this is a reprint...moreThis poem really deserves a much higher rating that this, and I love the Early English Text Society; but the edition is just so old--this is a reprint of the 1871 edition--that it's just wiser to use, for example, Larry D. Benson's edition, King Arthur's Death; The Middle English Stanzaic Morte Arthur and Alliterative Morte Arthure. One advantage this edition has is the marginal glosses, that allow you to find the passages you want very quickly.(less)
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