Some of the essays in this volume are extremely worthwhile: Sarah Foot's "The Making of Angelcynn," for example, which explores King Alfred's appropriSome of the essays in this volume are extremely worthwhile: Sarah Foot's "The Making of Angelcynn," for example, which explores King Alfred's appropriation of the term "Angelcynn" in order to foster the idea of Englishness among his subjects. Like all anthologies of literary criticism, however, whatever the field, this particular anthology is a mixed bag. I consult it when I'm teaching one or another of the texts. The editor R. M. Liuzza's translation of Beowulf is excellent--a nearly perfect combination of accuracy and readability....more
As the other reviews have noted, this is not an easy book to read. The style is extremely dense. However, a little patience really pays off. And the eAs the other reviews have noted, this is not an easy book to read. The style is extremely dense. However, a little patience really pays off. And the editors of this translation have done all they can to assist: there's a helpful summary of the book in the introduction, as well as copious notes at the end. Between the two of them, they make the book accessible.
St. Bonaventure's idea is that the soul progresses towards God in three steps, each of which can be subdivided, producing six altogether:
1. The Created World. In the first step, we recognize God through the created world. In the second step, we realize that God is present in the created world.
2. The Mind (i.e., the mind/soul/will). In the third step, we see that the soul is a reflection of God, i.e., it resembles God. In the fourth step, we recognize God's presence in the soul, as we had in the created world in the second step.
3. Contemplation of God. In the fifth step, we realize that God is Being itself. In the sixth step, we realize that God is good.
The last chapter is a description of the mystical union with God.
It's a great book--you can get a lot out of it if you put a lot into it. But there's no hidden meaning. What you see is what you get. It works on a very literal level. There's nothing tricky about it. The ideas are just dense....more
This might be not only the worst translation of Chaucer, but the worst translation of anything ever written.
First of all, there shouldn't be translatiThis might be not only the worst translation of Chaucer, but the worst translation of anything ever written.
First of all, there shouldn't be translations of Chaucer. Much of Chaucer's meaning comes through the language he uses. Take away the language, and what's left is no longer Chaucer. I can see an argument for translating Chaucer into German, French, Italian, Tagalog, whatever. But into Modern English--that's insulting.
If you can't read Chaucer's Middle English, just skip The Canterbury Tales. If you really REALLY want to read it, struggle with the Middle English for about an hour. After that, you'll be fine. I'd highly recommend either the Riverside Chaucer (complete works in a scholarly edition) or the Norton Critical text of the Tales, which has marginal glosses and footnotes to explain the meanings of words and provide historical information.
It's frustrating, though, when a translation is so far from the original meaning of the text that it seems the translator is really writing his or her own poem. This was what was frustrating about Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf and Simon Armitage's of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Here, though, there was at least some system in place, an overriding philosophy dictating the changes each translator made to his text. Raffel seems to just delight in misleading the reader. Take the opening lines. Chaucer wrote, "Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote, / The droughte of March hath perced to the roote." Famous lines. Raffel's rendering: "When April arrives, and with his sweetned showers / Drenches dried-up roots, gives them power." No mention of March; "dried-up" hardly conveys the same sense as "drought." Later on, Raffel describes the Squire as having "ridden with his father, on cavalry raids / In Flanders, Artois, and Picardy." Chaucer does not say that the Squire rode with his father, the Knight, on any campaigns at all. In fact, the battles fought by the Knight and Squire contrast--where the Knight had ridden on Crusades, the Squire had taken part in the Hundred Years' War. This important piece of characterization is entirely omitted in Raffel's translation.
Anything worth doing is worth taking time over. Chaucer's language is worth learning. This type of short-cut is a travesty. If you're reading it for pleasure, be aware that you're NOT reading Chaucer; if you're reading it in class, transfer to another class--your professor doesn't know what he's doing....more
The Fourth Crusade was a shambles. The Crusaders (Geoffrey de Villhardouin consistently calls then "pilgrims") set out to recapture the Holy Land fromThe Fourth Crusade was a shambles. The Crusaders (Geoffrey de Villhardouin consistently calls then "pilgrims") set out to recapture the Holy Land from the Turks, but finished up killing other Christians in Zara, Hungary, and by sacking Constantinople. Villhardouin portrays the whole thing as a glorious and heroic enterprise, but it's relatively easy to find Byzantine sources that portray the sacking of Constantinople as anything but heroic. Pope Innocent III, who initiated the campaign, was significantly annoyed with the Crusaders, whom he viewed as responsible for making the breach between the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic Churches permanent. Altogether, a sad account.
The book also contains an account of the crusade undertaken by King (Saint) Louis, which almost succeeded, but for his brother's idiotic cavalry charge.
This is an old translation, written about the beginning of the twentieth century, and the language is stilted and archaic, as was the fashion for translations of medieval works back then. COnsequently, I found it unnecessarily difficult to read....more
This book contains translations of "The Little Flowers of St. Francis" (the Fioretti) and St. Bonaventure's "Life of St. Francis," both of them well wThis book contains translations of "The Little Flowers of St. Francis" (the Fioretti) and St. Bonaventure's "Life of St. Francis," both of them well worth reading.
The "Little Flowers" is a collection of stories written down by Friar Ugolino in the fourteenth century, about 200 years after St. Francis' death. These tales recount some of the more famous episodes of St. Francis' life, such as his taming of the wolf of Gubbio.
Bonaventure's Life is the official Franciscan biography of St. Francis, written in the mid-1260s, about thirty years after Francis' death. The title of the book in Latin designates it as a "legend," by which it means a non-chronological but thematically-organized biography. Different chapters focus on Francis' preaching, miracles, humility, poverty, etc.
This book is a great place to start if you want to learn about St. Francis--everything is here, either in the Fioretti or Bonaventure's Legend. Another good book to start with is St. Francis of Assisi: A Biography by Johannes Jorgensen. In a lot of ways, though, I like these better. For one thing, they're genuine medieval sources. For another, they don't adorn their accounts, as Jorgensen does. On the other hand, Jorgensen sifts his evidence to arrive at a historically accurate record of Francis' life.
Why does a good God allow bad things to happen to good people? And why does He allow bad people to get away with doing bad things?
In 524, Anicius ManlWhy does a good God allow bad things to happen to good people? And why does He allow bad people to get away with doing bad things?
In 524, Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius was executed, most likely by strangulation, on a charge of treason. Whilst languishing in prison, he wrote a book that was to become one of the most influential philosophical tracts of the next thousand years, The Consolation of Philosophy.
Boethius is himself the narrator of the book. He speculates on being visited, in his plight, by Dame Philosophy, who explains to him patiently why his experiences reflect the existence of a good and benevolent God. The world is not ruled by chaotic forces, reward and punishment are not random--it's just that his limited human perception cannot fully understand the situation.
Philosophy begins by proving by meticulous reasoning that God is not only good, but the source of goodness. People are good in so far as they participate in divine goodness; they are evil in so far as they reject it. To be human is to accept good; to reject it makes one subhuman. The evil therefore only appear to be triumphant in the world. In fact, their own evil is their punishment.
The reason the bad seem to be rewarded is that they are favoured by Fortune, the force that rewards and punishes within the world. It is better, Philosophy argues, to follow Providence, the force that sees to it that God's plan is followed, no matter how men mar it.
Philosophy finishes up by reconciling God's foreknowledge of events with Man's free will. Foreseeing a thing does not necessitate that one has influenced it at all--God's foreknowledge merely enables him to see what will happen. He foresees because, from the perspective of eternity, all events, past, present, and future and simultaneously present to Him.
Understanding these concepts helps with understanding at least Dante Alighieri and Geoffrey Chaucer more fully; but they are also helpful in one's day-to-day life. Why does a benevolent God allow bad things to happen in His world? Boethius' answer is a rational one, an answer which does not depend on revealed truth (i.e., the Bible). It is therefore a satisfactory answer to that question for someone who doesn't believe in revealed truth.
Looking over the other reviews here, it seems that one thing people find negative about it is that it's personal--Boethius wrote it to console himself about the situation he was in. It's important to recall that this doesn't disqualify his ideas. That's really an ad hominem argument, and you should evaluate the quality of his thought independently of the circumstances under which they were written. That having been said, there's a poignancy to the situation that, I think, adds an edge to the philosophy. It's no mere abstraction, but a way of thinking that can really make a difference to folk. In short, if you want to understand the Middle Ages and the world in which you live, The Consolation of Philosophy is a cornerstone text. ...more
This is an intriguing read, but not necessarily a very pleasant one. I read it to complement my reading of The Song of Roland, and intend to read The This is an intriguing read, but not necessarily a very pleasant one. I read it to complement my reading of The Song of Roland, and intend to read The Poem of the Cid afterwards.
The Nibelungenlied is on the list of Great Books of the Western World, but I don't quite see why. The characterization is wildly inconsistent. Kriemhild, for example, is portrayed as a virtuous woman for the first half of the tale, but then as an evil schemer for the second half. Hagen of Troneg as an evil schemer for the first half of the story (he kills Siegfried and steal Kriemhild's treasure) but as a virtuous hero in the second half.
I understand how medieval literature works. Storytellers used diverse sources to construct their own tales. The author of The Quest of the Holy Grail, for example, used sources analogous to Chrétien de Troyes' Perceval or the Story of the Grail, and its many continuations (which can be found, somewhat abridged, in Nigel Bryant's translation), as well as some material they made up themselves. But they smoothe over the joins better than the author of the Nibelungenlied.
Oddly enough, the Great Books list doesn't include Beowulf, which I would consider far better than either the Nibelungenlied or the The Song of Roland.
I'll struggle through, though, and perhaps read the The Saga of the Volsungs, its direct source, soon. I might enjoy that more....more
This is a classic, a work of monumental proportions, and I'm sorry to say that I had never finished reading it until quite recently.
The plot is well kThis is a classic, a work of monumental proportions, and I'm sorry to say that I had never finished reading it until quite recently.
The plot is well known, of course. In the middle of his life, Dante finds himself lost in a dark forest; he's rescued by the shade of Virgil, the Roman poet, who takes him through Hell and Purgatory. When he gets to the Earthly Paradise, at the summit of the Mountain of Purgatory, Dante is guided no longer by Virgil, but now by Beatrice, a woman whom Dante had loved but who died several years earlier. Beatrice, of course, guides him through the nine spheres of Heaven.
The conception is stunning. I know of no other medieval work so comprehensive in its vision--every type of human behaviour conceivable is covered and minutely categorized--but the architecture of the poem in monumental and symmetrical. All the sins punished in Hell correspond perfectly to those being purged in Purgatory, and to virtues exemplified in the various spheres of Heaven.
I can't pretend that this is easy reading. On the contrary, some passages are very difficult indeed. The Paradiso, in particular, can be heavy-going. Often, Beatrice discourses in a medieval Scholastic manner about such subjects as the dark spots on the Moon or the nature of evil, and Heaven seems like a place where people talk interminably. And the latter portions of the Inferno get just a little oppressive--it's Hell, after all.
But these are minor, MINOR complaints. You should read the Divine Comedy because it's the Divine Comedy--arguably the most important medieval work of literature (though, personally, I'd argue for The Canterbury Tales), and certainly one of the most brilliantly conceived and executed.
On an initial reading (and I first read the first two parts, the Inferno and Purgatorio, several years ago), it seems somewhat deplorable that Dante places his own political enemies in Hell. On consideration, though, the individual sinners and saints don't really matter that much--whatever the merits of the historical persons, they're more important here as representatives of certain kinds of mortal behaviours and situations that end up placing them at specific places in Heaven, Purgatory, or Hell. To this end, an intimate knowledge of thirteenth- and fourteenth-century Florentine politics, while it might expand on some of the details of the poem, isn't strictly necessary. It's the types of sinners and saints that are important.
A word on the particular translation. Allen Mandelbaum's verse translation is itself a great piece of work. I don't read medieval Italian, but I believe it's quite an accurate translation. Occasionally, this fidelity to the source makes Mandelbaum's translation difficult to follow. For a clearer, but slightly less accurate translation, the Inferno, Purgatorio and Paradiso translated by John Ciardi might be preferable. Ciardi provides detailed synopses of each canto, and copious notes to explain the details. It's really a toss-up. Is it really important to know exactly how Cacciaguida died? The important thing is that he's Dante's saintly ancestor.
In conclusion, I would say that this may not be as much fun as a Stephen King novel, but it's certainly a poem that will change your life....more
There's not much to say about The Song of Roland. It's a great epic, of course. Dorothy L. Sayers' translation is a little more poetic than accurate. There's not much to say about The Song of Roland. It's a great epic, of course. Dorothy L. Sayers' translation is a little more poetic than accurate. She also disconcertingly changes the spellings of character names for metrical reasons or else for assonance. That's confusing. The introduction is excellent, though. And, once you've got used to the name thing, the translation is very readable. I prefer Glyn S. Burgess' translation that has essentially replaced Sayers'. Perhaps it's not as literary (he doesn't try to reproduce the assonance of the original, for example), but it's also a very readable translation with an informative introduction....more
This is a nice translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. It reads very smoothly, and is quite accurate to the original Middle English.
[image]This is a nice translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. It reads very smoothly, and is quite accurate to the original Middle English.
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This is a superb translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, designed, it seems, for reading aloud. At least, it sounds nice when you do. Tolkien This is a superb translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, designed, it seems, for reading aloud. At least, it sounds nice when you do. Tolkien preserves some of the technical jargon from chivalry, but he excelled at alliterative verse, and thus this translation shines! It's printed with his translations of the Middle English poems Pearl, probably by the same author as SGGK, and Sir Orfeo, a medieval version of the Orpheus myth with a happy ending.
A splendid text, but not for the faint-hearted. This is "Beowulf" in Old English: "Hwaet, we gar-denas in gear-dagum . . . " etc.A splendid text, but not for the faint-hearted. This is "Beowulf" in Old English: "Hwaet, we gar-denas in gear-dagum . . . " etc....more
This is by far my favourite translation of "Beowulf." It's entertaining, but it's quite accurate too--in some cases, Liuzza actually refuses to translThis is by far my favourite translation of "Beowulf." It's entertaining, but it's quite accurate too--in some cases, Liuzza actually refuses to translate a word. The word "wyrd," for example, is usually glossed as "fate," but is really more complex than that--Liuzza leaves it as "wyrd," and italicizes it. Good choice!...more
I love Beowulf, but don't much care for Heaney's translation. It's very entertaining and readable, but it misses the tone of the original with lines lI love Beowulf, but don't much care for Heaney's translation. It's very entertaining and readable, but it misses the tone of the original with lines like "That was one good king!"
For a far more accurate translation, that is still a powerful read, try R. M. Liuzza's:
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This is the Irish Iliad--Cuchulainn defends Ulster against everyone. Single-handed. It's a great story, but if it has a flaw, it's that it gets a littThis is the Irish Iliad--Cuchulainn defends Ulster against everyone. Single-handed. It's a great story, but if it has a flaw, it's that it gets a little repetetive when Cuchulainn is fighting against the succession of heroes. That shouldn't detract too much--battle scenes in the Iliad and the Morte Darthur aren't terribly interesting either....more
This is an excellent translation of the Mabinogion. Unlike Gantz, Davies uses familiar spellings of names, which I like; unlike Jones and Jones, she dThis is an excellent translation of the Mabinogion. Unlike Gantz, Davies uses familiar spellings of names, which I like; unlike Jones and Jones, she divides dialogue up into paragraphs--a conversation can be pretty confusing when it's printed as a single paragraph. Above all, though, Davies translates for oral performance--they're wonderful stories to read aloud. Occasionally, when the action is getting intense, Davies will switch to the present tense, as the Welsh originals do. It makes the narrative more direct.
The tales themselves are wonderful. It's a blend of Welsh legend, mythology, and Arthurian romance.
Welsh names can be hard to pronounce, but Davies provides an excellent pronunciation guide....more
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