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Amadís de Gaula #3-4
Amadis of Gaul: Books III and IV
In the long history of European prose, few works have been more influential and popular than Amadis of Gaul. It is a landmark work among the knight-errantry tales and probably derives from an oral tradition. Although its original author is unknown, it was likely written during the early fourteenth century, with the first known version of this work, dating from 1508, written in Spanish by Garci Ord ez (or Rodr?guez) de Montalvo. An early bestseller of the age of printing, Amadis of Gaul was translated into dozens of languages and spawned sequels and imitators over the centuries. A handsome, valiant, and undefeatable knight, Amadis is best known today as Don Quixote's favorite knight-errant and role model. Readers for centuries have delighted in his tales of adventure.
750 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1508
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45 people want to read
About the author
Garci Rodríguez de Montalvo
84 books25 followersCastilian author who arranged the modern version of the chivalric romance Amadis of Gaul, written in three books in the 13th century by an unknown author.
Montalvo added a fourth book of his own and also wrote a sequel, Las sergas de Esplandián (The Exploits of Esplandián or The Adventures of Esplandián) (oldest known printing, 1510), in which he tells the life and wandering of Amadis' eldest son.
He is also known for coining the name of California.
Montalvo added a fourth book of his own and also wrote a sequel, Las sergas de Esplandián (The Exploits of Esplandián or The Adventures of Esplandián) (oldest known printing, 1510), in which he tells the life and wandering of Amadis' eldest son.
He is also known for coining the name of California.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
March 25, 2020
I read the Place and Behm translation, which puts Books I and II in Volume One and Books III and IV in Volume Two. I waited over a year between volumes. As a result, I forgot what had contributed to the main conflict narrated in Volume Two, and I also forgot many of the characters, especially the many whose names begin with G. I would advise readers to tackle the whole thing straight through, if possible.
Volume Two drags. There is a lot of preparation for the Big Battle, and the pacing is quite slow during the preparation. The beginning, covering Amadis’s eastern adventures, and the end, covering a couple of extra adventures, are the most exciting parts.
One thing that continues to strike me about chivalric literature is the paucity of emotional narration accompanying dialogue (or action). One example is:
On the other hand, when emotion is not discernible from a character’s speech or behavior – as usually occurs when the character’s speech is counterfeit or his behavior ironic – the omniscient narrator does intervene. For example, after a certain knight loses a battle and is then treated cordially by his former foes, he dutifully returns the cordiality; but he is inwardly angry, for, as the narrator explains:
By way of comparison, Thomas Malory, who was active a full century earlier than Garci Rodriguez de Montalvo (the compiler of Amadis), did not, I recall, employ omniscient narration in such a way. In fact, Malory’s more consistent disinclination to explain his characters’ actions leaves a great deal of very pleasant work in the hands of the reader, as he is compelled to supply motives and draw lessons from Malory’s often mysterious, bare-bones narration. My conclusion is that Malory is more of a puzzle than Montalvo, more challenging and perhaps, therefore, more rewarding.
Volume Two drags. There is a lot of preparation for the Big Battle, and the pacing is quite slow during the preparation. The beginning, covering Amadis’s eastern adventures, and the end, covering a couple of extra adventures, are the most exciting parts.
One thing that continues to strike me about chivalric literature is the paucity of emotional narration accompanying dialogue (or action). One example is:
“Beware, sire, for you are committing great cruelty and a great sin, and very quickly you could receive such a lashing from the Lord on high that your great brilliance and fame might be greatly obscured….”One might have expected the king to “redden” or “bristle” as he is reprimanded and abandoned by one of his vassals (his own uncle, no less), or for the narration to spare a phrase or two to convey his feelings. However, the sixteenth-century text, like many others of the time, remains minimalist and leaves the psychoanalyzing to the reader. Perhaps the emotional narration is absent when the emotion should be obvious.
“Good uncle,” said the king, “I well remember all that you have said to me before, but I cannot do anything more….”
“Then, sire,” said the count, “I ask of you permission to leave for my own estate.”
“God be with you,” said the king. (p. 281)
On the other hand, when emotion is not discernible from a character’s speech or behavior – as usually occurs when the character’s speech is counterfeit or his behavior ironic – the omniscient narrator does intervene. For example, after a certain knight loses a battle and is then treated cordially by his former foes, he dutifully returns the cordiality; but he is inwardly angry, for, as the narrator explains:
He was not satisfied in his desire, because all this honor and gain had come to him after being overcome and reduced to dire straits….He consoled himself and dissimulated as a man of great prudence so that no one might perceive that his thought was concerned with anything other than considering himself the lord and superior of everyone, and believing that with great honor he had won it. So with this pretended joy and with a very complacent appearance he came to where the queen was. (pp. 565-566)In sum, the omniscient narrator only appears when there is a mismatch between appearance and reality. He is a guide only to what is hidden. If nothing is consciously being hidden, then his services are unnecessary. Unless otherwise stated, then, all is as it seems.
By way of comparison, Thomas Malory, who was active a full century earlier than Garci Rodriguez de Montalvo (the compiler of Amadis), did not, I recall, employ omniscient narration in such a way. In fact, Malory’s more consistent disinclination to explain his characters’ actions leaves a great deal of very pleasant work in the hands of the reader, as he is compelled to supply motives and draw lessons from Malory’s often mysterious, bare-bones narration. My conclusion is that Malory is more of a puzzle than Montalvo, more challenging and perhaps, therefore, more rewarding.
Read
February 8, 2012As recommended by Don Quixote himself, and saved from the bonfire of chivalry by the barber.
July 25, 2020
More specific ratings:
Historical importance: 5 stars
Translation: 5 stars
Pleasure of reading: 2.5 stars
After reading Books I and II of the "Amadis Cycle," I found this latter half more of a chore than the first. It has its compelling moments, but overall it's slower and more overly wordy than Books I or II, and the formulaic nature of it was bound to get tired by page 1,000 and beyond (the whole thing is about 1,400 pages).
This latter half of the exploits of fictional knight errant Amadis of Gaul mostly continues the pattern of the first half: Amadis rides into battles, bound by his unfailing sense of honor and duty, and wins. And wins. And wins. And he always takes the high road, never shows up those he defeats, and is the ultimate model for chivalric behavior, and is an all-around swell guy.
He's also extremely boring, in terms of character. I get it - that's not really the point of this kind of tale. Books like Amadis of Gaul and Tirant lo Blanc seem to have had a very different place in their day than modern, popular fiction tales do. In one sense, though, I feel like Amadis of Gaul may be an early example of the very formula that we still see if popular TV and fiction writing series to this very day. A hero gets into a fight for a noble cause, maybe struggles a bit, but ultimately wins the day. Rinse, wash, repeat. That's what super knight Amadis of Gaul does, again and again. In fact, it becomes such a predictable formula that the only thing that kind of spiced it up in Books III and IV were two things: the large-scale battle against former liege lord King Lisuarte, and the battle against the demon-like creature Endriago. Those were really the only two situations which offered something a bit different, in terms of villains to be conquered. Book IV is especially slow, with far fewer battles and a lot more dialogue and exposition about what people were doing, how honorable they were, or what they would be doing next. Honestly, there were moments where I would zone out for entire half or whole pages, lock back in, and realize that I hadn't missed a single thing of import to the story or character development (not that there's much character development in these books - nearly every character kind of is who they are, and they almost never change).
The translation does seem to be an excellent one. Not that I know Portuguese or could possible read the original, but just in terms of modern readability, I found it really good. I actually gave up on a few other older pieces of literature because of overly clunky translations, such as Pearl S. Buck's translation of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Not so with Amadis, which seems to retain the fell of early 16th century prose while being accessible to modern readers.
What I realized after completing the entire, epic series is just how much literature would change over the succeeding centuries. Two givens in modern fiction writing are: (1) make your characters distinctive in speech and/or physical appearance, especially if you have a ton of characters in your story, and (2) main characters have to change over the course of the story, for better or worse. I found there to be almost none of these things in Amadis of Gaul. We never get any physical descriptions of the literally hundreds of characters in the tale, with the rare exceptions being to give vague descriptions of Amadis, Esplandian, and maybe a handful of others. On top of that, every character speaks in the same elevated, highly formal register at all times. I know, I know - this was before colloquial speech became any regular part of fiction writing, and it is very noticeable. One could chalk it up to the fact that the entire work is basically one of fantasy, but it doesn't make it any easier to read or get any sense of authenticity from the characters as resembling real people.
So I made it through the book, but it certainly felt more like homework by those last 300 or 400 pages. Overall, I'm glad I read it, since it laid the groundwork for so many great pieces of later writing, and it's not without its fun, gripping moments. But I would caution those who are thinking about it to be prepared for some duller, meandering passages by the time you get to Book IV.
Historical importance: 5 stars
Translation: 5 stars
Pleasure of reading: 2.5 stars
After reading Books I and II of the "Amadis Cycle," I found this latter half more of a chore than the first. It has its compelling moments, but overall it's slower and more overly wordy than Books I or II, and the formulaic nature of it was bound to get tired by page 1,000 and beyond (the whole thing is about 1,400 pages).
This latter half of the exploits of fictional knight errant Amadis of Gaul mostly continues the pattern of the first half: Amadis rides into battles, bound by his unfailing sense of honor and duty, and wins. And wins. And wins. And he always takes the high road, never shows up those he defeats, and is the ultimate model for chivalric behavior, and is an all-around swell guy.
He's also extremely boring, in terms of character. I get it - that's not really the point of this kind of tale. Books like Amadis of Gaul and Tirant lo Blanc seem to have had a very different place in their day than modern, popular fiction tales do. In one sense, though, I feel like Amadis of Gaul may be an early example of the very formula that we still see if popular TV and fiction writing series to this very day. A hero gets into a fight for a noble cause, maybe struggles a bit, but ultimately wins the day. Rinse, wash, repeat. That's what super knight Amadis of Gaul does, again and again. In fact, it becomes such a predictable formula that the only thing that kind of spiced it up in Books III and IV were two things: the large-scale battle against former liege lord King Lisuarte, and the battle against the demon-like creature Endriago. Those were really the only two situations which offered something a bit different, in terms of villains to be conquered. Book IV is especially slow, with far fewer battles and a lot more dialogue and exposition about what people were doing, how honorable they were, or what they would be doing next. Honestly, there were moments where I would zone out for entire half or whole pages, lock back in, and realize that I hadn't missed a single thing of import to the story or character development (not that there's much character development in these books - nearly every character kind of is who they are, and they almost never change).
The translation does seem to be an excellent one. Not that I know Portuguese or could possible read the original, but just in terms of modern readability, I found it really good. I actually gave up on a few other older pieces of literature because of overly clunky translations, such as Pearl S. Buck's translation of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Not so with Amadis, which seems to retain the fell of early 16th century prose while being accessible to modern readers.
What I realized after completing the entire, epic series is just how much literature would change over the succeeding centuries. Two givens in modern fiction writing are: (1) make your characters distinctive in speech and/or physical appearance, especially if you have a ton of characters in your story, and (2) main characters have to change over the course of the story, for better or worse. I found there to be almost none of these things in Amadis of Gaul. We never get any physical descriptions of the literally hundreds of characters in the tale, with the rare exceptions being to give vague descriptions of Amadis, Esplandian, and maybe a handful of others. On top of that, every character speaks in the same elevated, highly formal register at all times. I know, I know - this was before colloquial speech became any regular part of fiction writing, and it is very noticeable. One could chalk it up to the fact that the entire work is basically one of fantasy, but it doesn't make it any easier to read or get any sense of authenticity from the characters as resembling real people.
So I made it through the book, but it certainly felt more like homework by those last 300 or 400 pages. Overall, I'm glad I read it, since it laid the groundwork for so many great pieces of later writing, and it's not without its fun, gripping moments. But I would caution those who are thinking about it to be prepared for some duller, meandering passages by the time you get to Book IV.
August 8, 2013
A tough book to get through (both this one and the two parts that make up volume one), but at the end more than worth it.
First the hard part - there is a lot of court etiquette, that can be interesting, but often slows the action down for several chapters at a time while everyone is being polite to one another. Chretien, for example, would probably have abbreviated much of it while still getting the same effect. So in parts it is very slow reading, and not for everyone.
Now the positives. The plot is amazingly tight for such a scope and character list, right up there with Ariosto's Orlando Furioso. For a fantasy that has giants and demons, it is surprisingly "realistic." In other words, after fighting, people actually get injured, and sometimes spending weeks in bed instead of bouncing up the next day, as in other Medieval romances. In fact, had Amadis not been traveling with a doctor, that narration makes it plain that he would not have survived the fight with a monster. And even then, he was months in recovery. Finally, the ending is very satisfying - as I kept getting closer, I wondered how Montalvo was going to wrap up all the plot threads, yet he did, while still leaving room for continuation.
The only reason I didn't give this five stars is because of the long digressions, but really, it's an incredible story. One consequence of reading it is that I now like Don Quixote less. I always loved Don Quixote, but this is what he was parodying. And after reading the original, I realize that the parody is just that - a parody - and that the real genius is in the writer who exemplifies the original style.
Not for everyone, but if you're into heroic literature, I highly recommend it.
First the hard part - there is a lot of court etiquette, that can be interesting, but often slows the action down for several chapters at a time while everyone is being polite to one another. Chretien, for example, would probably have abbreviated much of it while still getting the same effect. So in parts it is very slow reading, and not for everyone.
Now the positives. The plot is amazingly tight for such a scope and character list, right up there with Ariosto's Orlando Furioso. For a fantasy that has giants and demons, it is surprisingly "realistic." In other words, after fighting, people actually get injured, and sometimes spending weeks in bed instead of bouncing up the next day, as in other Medieval romances. In fact, had Amadis not been traveling with a doctor, that narration makes it plain that he would not have survived the fight with a monster. And even then, he was months in recovery. Finally, the ending is very satisfying - as I kept getting closer, I wondered how Montalvo was going to wrap up all the plot threads, yet he did, while still leaving room for continuation.
The only reason I didn't give this five stars is because of the long digressions, but really, it's an incredible story. One consequence of reading it is that I now like Don Quixote less. I always loved Don Quixote, but this is what he was parodying. And after reading the original, I realize that the parody is just that - a parody - and that the real genius is in the writer who exemplifies the original style.
Not for everyone, but if you're into heroic literature, I highly recommend it.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews