What do you think?
Rate this book
Orlando Furioso #1
Orlando Furioso: Part One
One of the greatest epic poems of the Italian Renaissance, Orlando Furioso is an intricate tale of love and enchantment set at the time of the Holy Roman Emperor Charlemagne's conflict with the Moors. When Count Orlando returns to France from Cathay with the captive Angelica as his prize, her beauty soon inspires his cousin Rinaldo to challenge him to a duel - but during their battle, Angelica escapes from both knights on horseback and begins a desperate quest for freedom. This dazzling kaleidoscope of fabulous adventures, sorcery and romance has inspired generations of writers - including Spenser and Shakespeare - with its depiction of a fantastical world of magic rings, flying horses, sinister wizardry and barbaric splendour.
832 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1516
About the author
Ludovico Ariosto
1,051 books123 followersKnown Italian writer Ludovico Ariosto, or Lodovico Ariosto first published
Orlando Furioso
his primary epic comic poem, in 1516.
He best authored the romance. This continuation of Orlando Innamorato of Matteo Maria Boiardo describes the adventures of Charlemagne and the Franks, who battle against the Saracens, with diversions into many side plots. Ariosto composed in the ottava rima scheme and introduced narrator commentary throughout the work.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ludovic...
He best authored the romance. This continuation of Orlando Innamorato of Matteo Maria Boiardo describes the adventures of Charlemagne and the Franks, who battle against the Saracens, with diversions into many side plots. Ariosto composed in the ottava rima scheme and introduced narrator commentary throughout the work.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ludovic...
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 53 reviews
January 22, 2022
I'm completely and utterly besotted by this poem. I mean, I feel like I’m Isabella d'Este and it was written for me! While I’m gathering my thoughts and/or finishing the other half, here is the review by Osip Mandelstam.
Во всей Италии приятнейший, умнейший,
Любезный Ариост немножечко охрип.
Он наслаждается перечисленьем рыб
И перчит все моря нелепицею злейшей.
И, словно музыкант на десяти цимбалах,
Не уставая рвать повествованья нить,
Ведет туда-сюда, не зная сам, как быть,
Запутанный рассказ о рыцарских скандалах.
На языке цикад пленительная смесь
Из грусти пушкинской и средиземной спеси —
Он завирается, с Орландом куролеся,
И содрогается, преображаясь весь.
И морю говорит: шуми без всяких дум,
И деве на скале: лежи без покрывала...
Рассказывай еще — тебя нам слишком мало,
Покуда в жилах кровь, в ушах покуда шум.
О город ящериц, в котором нет души, —
Когда бы чаще ты таких мужей рожала,
Феррара черствая! Который раз сначала,
Покуда в жилах кровь, рассказывай, спеши!
В Европе холодно. В Италии темно.
Власть отвратительна, как руки брадобрея,
А он вельможится все лучше, все хитрее
И улыбается в крылатое окно —
Ягненку на горе, монаху на осляти,
Солдатам герцога, юродивым слегка
От винопития, чумы и чеснока,
И в сетке синих мух уснувшему дитяти.
А я люблю его неистовый досуг —
Язык бессмысленный, язык солено-сладкий
И звуков стакнутых прелестные двойчатки...
Боюсь раскрыть ножом двустворчатый жемчуг.
Любезный Ариост, быть может, век пройдет —
В одно широкое и братское лазорье
Сольем твою лазурь и наше черноморье.
...И мы бывали там. И мы там пили мед...
Во всей Италии приятнейший, умнейший,
Любезный Ариост немножечко охрип.
Он наслаждается перечисленьем рыб
И перчит все моря нелепицею злейшей.
И, словно музыкант на десяти цимбалах,
Не уставая рвать повествованья нить,
Ведет туда-сюда, не зная сам, как быть,
Запутанный рассказ о рыцарских скандалах.
На языке цикад пленительная смесь
Из грусти пушкинской и средиземной спеси —
Он завирается, с Орландом куролеся,
И содрогается, преображаясь весь.
И морю говорит: шуми без всяких дум,
И деве на скале: лежи без покрывала...
Рассказывай еще — тебя нам слишком мало,
Покуда в жилах кровь, в ушах покуда шум.
О город ящериц, в котором нет души, —
Когда бы чаще ты таких мужей рожала,
Феррара черствая! Который раз сначала,
Покуда в жилах кровь, рассказывай, спеши!
В Европе холодно. В Италии темно.
Власть отвратительна, как руки брадобрея,
А он вельможится все лучше, все хитрее
И улыбается в крылатое окно —
Ягненку на горе, монаху на осляти,
Солдатам герцога, юродивым слегка
От винопития, чумы и чеснока,
И в сетке синих мух уснувшему дитяти.
А я люблю его неистовый досуг —
Язык бессмысленный, язык солено-сладкий
И звуков стакнутых прелестные двойчатки...
Боюсь раскрыть ножом двустворчатый жемчуг.
Любезный Ариост, быть может, век пройдет —
В одно широкое и братское лазорье
Сольем твою лазурь и наше черноморье.
...И мы бывали там. И мы там пили мед...
July 16, 2012
Perhaps it speaks more to the age I live in than that of the author, but I'm always surprised to find a reasonable, rational mind on the other end of the pen. Though his work is full of prejudice and idealism, it is constantly shifting, so that now one side seems right, and now the other.
His use of hyperbole and oxymoron prefigures the great metaphysical poets, and like them, these are tools of rhetoric and satire. Every knight is 'undefeatable', every woman 'shames all others by her virtue', and it does not escape Ariosto that making all of them remarkable only makes more obvious the fact that none of them are.
Ariosto's style flies on wings, lilting here and there, darting, soaring. He makes extensive use of metafiction, both addressing the audience by means of a semi-fictionalized narrator and by philosophical explorations of the art of poetry itself, and the nature of the poet and his patron.
As with most epics, Ariosto's asides to the greatness of his patron are as jarring as any 30-second spot. His relationship to his various patrons was extremely difficult for him, as he was paid a mere pittance and constantly drawn away from his writing to deliver bad news to the pope (if you're thinking that's a bad job, Ariosto would agree--the See nearly had him killed).
This is likely the reason that these moments of praise fall to the same unbelievable hyperbole as the rest. His patrons could hardly be angry at him for constantly praising them, but his readers will surely be able to recognize that his greatest compliments are the most backhanded, and merely serve to throw into stark contrast the hypocrisy of man.
Since we will all be oblivious hypocrites at some point (for most of us, nearly all the time), the only useful defense is the humility to admit our flaws. Great men never have it so easy: they cannot accept their mistakes, but must instead be buried by them.
Though Ariosto often lands on the side of the Christians, his Muslims are mighty, honorable, well-spoken, and as reasonable in their faith. The only thing which seems to separate the two sides is their petty squabbling.
Likewise, he takes a surprisingly liberal view of sex and gender equality, with lady knights who are not only the match for any man, but who need no marriage to complete their characters. He even presents homosexuality amongst both sexes, though with a rather light hand.
His epic is not the stalwartly serious sort, like Homer, Virgil, or Dante. Ariosto is a humanist, and has none of the fetters of nationalism or religious idealism to hold him in place. His view of man is a contrary, shifting, absurd thing. The greatest achievements of man are great only in the eyes of man.
By showing both sides of a conflict, by supporting each in turn, Ariosto creates a space for the author to inhabit. He is not tied to some system of beliefs, but to observation, to recognition; not to the ostensible truth of humanity, but to our continuing story.
Ariosto took a great leap from Petrarch's self-awareness. While Petrarch constantly searched and argued in his poems, he found a sublime comfort in the grand unknown. Ariosto is the great iconoclast, not only asking why of the most obvious conflicts, but of the grandest assumptions. The grand mystery is only as sacred as it is profane.
Ariosto is also funny, surprising, and highly imaginative. Though his work is defined by its philosophical view, this view is developed slowly and carefully. It is never stated outright, but is rather the medium of the story: a thin, elegant skein which draws together all characters and conflicts.
The surface of the story itself is a light-hearted, impossible comedy. It is no more impossible than the grand heights of any other epic, but only seems so because it is not girt tightly with high-minded seriousness. Perhaps Ariosto's greatest gift is that he is doing essentially the same thing all other authors do, the same situations and characters, but he makes you laugh to see it.
To be able to look at life simply as it is and laugh is the only freedom we will ever know. It is all wisdom. For this gift, I hail fair Ariosto, the greatest of all epicists, all poets, all writers, all humanists, all men, and never to be surpassed.
His use of hyperbole and oxymoron prefigures the great metaphysical poets, and like them, these are tools of rhetoric and satire. Every knight is 'undefeatable', every woman 'shames all others by her virtue', and it does not escape Ariosto that making all of them remarkable only makes more obvious the fact that none of them are.
Ariosto's style flies on wings, lilting here and there, darting, soaring. He makes extensive use of metafiction, both addressing the audience by means of a semi-fictionalized narrator and by philosophical explorations of the art of poetry itself, and the nature of the poet and his patron.
As with most epics, Ariosto's asides to the greatness of his patron are as jarring as any 30-second spot. His relationship to his various patrons was extremely difficult for him, as he was paid a mere pittance and constantly drawn away from his writing to deliver bad news to the pope (if you're thinking that's a bad job, Ariosto would agree--the See nearly had him killed).
This is likely the reason that these moments of praise fall to the same unbelievable hyperbole as the rest. His patrons could hardly be angry at him for constantly praising them, but his readers will surely be able to recognize that his greatest compliments are the most backhanded, and merely serve to throw into stark contrast the hypocrisy of man.
Since we will all be oblivious hypocrites at some point (for most of us, nearly all the time), the only useful defense is the humility to admit our flaws. Great men never have it so easy: they cannot accept their mistakes, but must instead be buried by them.
Though Ariosto often lands on the side of the Christians, his Muslims are mighty, honorable, well-spoken, and as reasonable in their faith. The only thing which seems to separate the two sides is their petty squabbling.
Likewise, he takes a surprisingly liberal view of sex and gender equality, with lady knights who are not only the match for any man, but who need no marriage to complete their characters. He even presents homosexuality amongst both sexes, though with a rather light hand.
His epic is not the stalwartly serious sort, like Homer, Virgil, or Dante. Ariosto is a humanist, and has none of the fetters of nationalism or religious idealism to hold him in place. His view of man is a contrary, shifting, absurd thing. The greatest achievements of man are great only in the eyes of man.
By showing both sides of a conflict, by supporting each in turn, Ariosto creates a space for the author to inhabit. He is not tied to some system of beliefs, but to observation, to recognition; not to the ostensible truth of humanity, but to our continuing story.
Ariosto took a great leap from Petrarch's self-awareness. While Petrarch constantly searched and argued in his poems, he found a sublime comfort in the grand unknown. Ariosto is the great iconoclast, not only asking why of the most obvious conflicts, but of the grandest assumptions. The grand mystery is only as sacred as it is profane.
Ariosto is also funny, surprising, and highly imaginative. Though his work is defined by its philosophical view, this view is developed slowly and carefully. It is never stated outright, but is rather the medium of the story: a thin, elegant skein which draws together all characters and conflicts.
The surface of the story itself is a light-hearted, impossible comedy. It is no more impossible than the grand heights of any other epic, but only seems so because it is not girt tightly with high-minded seriousness. Perhaps Ariosto's greatest gift is that he is doing essentially the same thing all other authors do, the same situations and characters, but he makes you laugh to see it.
To be able to look at life simply as it is and laugh is the only freedom we will ever know. It is all wisdom. For this gift, I hail fair Ariosto, the greatest of all epicists, all poets, all writers, all humanists, all men, and never to be surpassed.
September 9, 2014
C'est une merveille! Écrit par Arioste, un poète Italien de la Renaissance, Roland Furieux est un immense poème épique entremêlant des dizaines d'histoires de chevaliers et belles dames entrainés dans les aventures les plus diverses. On voyage depuis l'Inde, l'Afrique, la Grèce, la Circacie, l'Espagne la France, l'Angleterre, le Saint Empire Romain.
Charlemagne et Agramant sont en pleine guerre, le roi Maure assiégeant la ville de Paris. Mais ces deux rois ont bien du mal à discipliner leurs troupes qui sont constituées pour l'un et pour l'autre de nombre de chevaliers errants, avides de gloire et d'honneur, redresseurs de torts, preux et valeureux, mais aussi érotomanes et libidineux. Ces héros sont bien plus occupés par leurs affaires de cœur que par la guerre en cours.
Les références à la Chanson de Roland, au cycle Arthurien et la mythologie grecque sont tissés dans une toile bien ficelée. C'est encore plus foisonnant que la magnifique Jérusalem délivrée du Tasse. Casanova y fait référence maintes et maintes fois dans ses Mémoires. Une lecture exaltante!
January 14, 2018
Once again, I discover: no wonder it’s a classic.
I am absolutely loving this. And am chagrinned to find that I have been reading books and looking at artwork for decades that made reference to Ariosto without my realizing it. Those naked maidens chained to rocks rising from the sea, with a monster threatening? Ariosto. Knights on a winged horse flashing a laser-endowed shield to stun the wicked? Ariosto.
This is a review of the Barbara Reynolds translation. I first picked up Slavitt, but abandoned it on reading in his forward that he tried to make Ariosto into Byron, and felt free to modernize the poem. He leaves at least half out. If I wanted to read Byron or a modern comic poet, I would. Plus, Reynolds is a scholar and includes a very helpful introduction and copious notes; lists of names, weapons and horses to remind you who is who; maps, etc. At the top of each page are a few words summarizing the plot in those stanzas, to help you keep your bearings or look back at an event. Slavitt has no introduction (to speak of) and no helps.
Reynolds makes marvelous poetry in English. She often finds inventive rhymes for Ariosto’s terza rima, especially in the final couplet.
With shrieks and gusts all headway it denies them,
Each time they turn, it threatens to capsize them.”
While understandably often using end-stopped lines, she is equally capable of writing a stanza of enjambed lines, extended metaphor, and altered commonplace.
Sometimes a battle such as this a fly
Against a mastiff boldly undertakes
In August, or Septembre, or July,
Those months of dust, of vintage, or of stacks
of ripened grain, well garnered and laid by.
Stinging his snout and eyes, the insect makes
Unceasing darts and sallies, till, mayhap,
The mastiff is revenged in one fell snap.
This is a very modern-feeling poem in the constant presence of the narrator. He lays on the irony and acknowledges both it and the comic circumstances of his characters. He brings structure front and centre as he tells the reader, ‘but now, remember we left the knights X and Y whacking at each other a few cantos ago? It’s time to leave U and V here in a cliffhanger, and go see what happened next to X and Y.’
Some scenes are unforgettable: The ‘hero’ Ruggiero struggles so long to get off his armor in order to rape the reluctant Angelica who he just rescued from the orc, that the maiden has time to run off into the woods. Dozens of noble characters wandering around the magician Atlante’s imaginary castle unaware of each other because they have been enchanted to seek only illusions they cannot find. Knights swearing to eternally protect women they then find are evil harridans, but are saddled (literally) with for ensuing cantos due to the honor of their oath.
Throughout the reader marvels at Ariosto’s ability to weave together and keep straight so many narrative threads and so many characters. I kept a big sheet of paper with columns for the major characters myself so I could remember who they had rescued and who was enamored of whom. Reynolds helps tremendously in the introduction with her clear explanation of the battle of Paris that is a main driver and event. She clarifies troop movements and includes a battle map. She also has maps of the frequent journeys via ship and hippogrif around the world.
I haven’t read Game of Thrones, but I think that 1200 pages of Orlando Furioso might give it a run for its money in fantasy, battles, gore, honor, and invention. And I’m pretty sure Orlando is a lot funnier. (note: there are about 600 pages of poem in the Penguin version of volume 1; the rest is intro, notes, genealogy, etc. I’m ready for volume II.) Our hero and heroines (a woman knight as tough as they come) are all over the top. [Note, in what follows: Durindana is a sword.]
The count rode on, keeping his lance in rest.
And in the self-same movement, as it seemed,
He quickly ran another through the chest.
He left his lance in him because he deemed
That Durindana would now suit him best.
Some heads he split in two, some torsos trimmed,
And many throats he cut; and those who fled
Totalled at least a hundred with the dead.
I am absolutely loving this. And am chagrinned to find that I have been reading books and looking at artwork for decades that made reference to Ariosto without my realizing it. Those naked maidens chained to rocks rising from the sea, with a monster threatening? Ariosto. Knights on a winged horse flashing a laser-endowed shield to stun the wicked? Ariosto.
This is a review of the Barbara Reynolds translation. I first picked up Slavitt, but abandoned it on reading in his forward that he tried to make Ariosto into Byron, and felt free to modernize the poem. He leaves at least half out. If I wanted to read Byron or a modern comic poet, I would. Plus, Reynolds is a scholar and includes a very helpful introduction and copious notes; lists of names, weapons and horses to remind you who is who; maps, etc. At the top of each page are a few words summarizing the plot in those stanzas, to help you keep your bearings or look back at an event. Slavitt has no introduction (to speak of) and no helps.
Reynolds makes marvelous poetry in English. She often finds inventive rhymes for Ariosto’s terza rima, especially in the final couplet.
With shrieks and gusts all headway it denies them,
Each time they turn, it threatens to capsize them.”
While understandably often using end-stopped lines, she is equally capable of writing a stanza of enjambed lines, extended metaphor, and altered commonplace.
Sometimes a battle such as this a fly
Against a mastiff boldly undertakes
In August, or Septembre, or July,
Those months of dust, of vintage, or of stacks
of ripened grain, well garnered and laid by.
Stinging his snout and eyes, the insect makes
Unceasing darts and sallies, till, mayhap,
The mastiff is revenged in one fell snap.
This is a very modern-feeling poem in the constant presence of the narrator. He lays on the irony and acknowledges both it and the comic circumstances of his characters. He brings structure front and centre as he tells the reader, ‘but now, remember we left the knights X and Y whacking at each other a few cantos ago? It’s time to leave U and V here in a cliffhanger, and go see what happened next to X and Y.’
Some scenes are unforgettable: The ‘hero’ Ruggiero struggles so long to get off his armor in order to rape the reluctant Angelica who he just rescued from the orc, that the maiden has time to run off into the woods. Dozens of noble characters wandering around the magician Atlante’s imaginary castle unaware of each other because they have been enchanted to seek only illusions they cannot find. Knights swearing to eternally protect women they then find are evil harridans, but are saddled (literally) with for ensuing cantos due to the honor of their oath.
Throughout the reader marvels at Ariosto’s ability to weave together and keep straight so many narrative threads and so many characters. I kept a big sheet of paper with columns for the major characters myself so I could remember who they had rescued and who was enamored of whom. Reynolds helps tremendously in the introduction with her clear explanation of the battle of Paris that is a main driver and event. She clarifies troop movements and includes a battle map. She also has maps of the frequent journeys via ship and hippogrif around the world.
I haven’t read Game of Thrones, but I think that 1200 pages of Orlando Furioso might give it a run for its money in fantasy, battles, gore, honor, and invention. And I’m pretty sure Orlando is a lot funnier. (note: there are about 600 pages of poem in the Penguin version of volume 1; the rest is intro, notes, genealogy, etc. I’m ready for volume II.) Our hero and heroines (a woman knight as tough as they come) are all over the top. [Note, in what follows: Durindana is a sword.]
The count rode on, keeping his lance in rest.
And in the self-same movement, as it seemed,
He quickly ran another through the chest.
He left his lance in him because he deemed
That Durindana would now suit him best.
Some heads he split in two, some torsos trimmed,
And many throats he cut; and those who fled
Totalled at least a hundred with the dead.
September 3, 2011
The part that really amazes me about this book is that it seems that it's mainly political, a story of war between the Christians and the Moors as the African King attacks Europe. But it doesn't take long to realize that the true battle is the ultimate battle - the battle for poon.
Orlando has his heart set on the lovely Angelica (whom he steals from the Moors), but when he brings her home his cousin realizes he wants to tap that. While the boys are all distracted dueling each other, Angelica takes advantage of the situation and takes off because, y'know, she's her own woman and all, and boys are dumb. But Orlando's not having any of that, so he sets off after her; when he finds out she's fallen for another dude, well... he gets a little nutso.
The problem is (if it indeed can be considered a "problem") that this first volume is almost 800 pages and it ends at the most inopportune time - in the middle of Orlando's greatest craze. Ariosto ended each chapter with a statement inviting readers to continue if they wanted to know more; he was the king of the cliffhanger. I'm not sure who decided to end Vol 1 exactly where they did, but I'd like to punch that person in the proverbial nutsack. This just means I have to get Vol 2 which has already proven to be difficult. As it was I found this at a neighborhood yard sale last year, and the guy I bought it from said he has never found Vol 2 either. (To be fair, we're talking about used copies locally, not going to Amazon or Abe or Alibris or any of those other sites.) Additionally the translator of Vol 1 is Barbara Reynolds; I don't have any previous experience with her translations that I'm aware of, so I don't know how she stacks up in the world of literary translations. I do know I enjoyed the read, and only wrinkled my nose at a couple phrases which could easily be Ariosto's own original, awkward phrasing as well as the fault of the translator. I would expect that this is a relatively decent translation or else I would have given up on it a long time ago.
Point is, now that I've read her translation of Vol 1, I most certainly need her translation (and only her translation) of Vol 2. So now that's my goal. The other goal is to read the book that started it all, Boiardo's Orlando Innamorato/Orlando in Love. I'm not sure, but I feel fairly confident saying I don't think I've ever seen a used copy of this. But then maybe I missed it because I wasn't previously searching it out.
There's so much going on in this book beyond the poon, beyond the politics and religion - there's magic too, including a magic ring (before Tolkien even existed, thankyouverymuch) and mythical creatures such as the hippogriff (I want one). I was surprised at how quickly the story moved along, and it really is because there's just so much happening. There are battle scenes in this poem that make The Iliad look like a Disney movie. Pretty gruesome stuff. It was freaking awesome.
ETA: I just recently read A Game of Thrones and made a complaint about fantasy novels always having a joust/tournament and a feast/banquet. Let the record show, Orlando Furioso also had both. I'm now on a mission to read more fantasy (especially older fantasy like this one) to see just which a-hole started the trend.
Orlando has his heart set on the lovely Angelica (whom he steals from the Moors), but when he brings her home his cousin realizes he wants to tap that. While the boys are all distracted dueling each other, Angelica takes advantage of the situation and takes off because, y'know, she's her own woman and all, and boys are dumb. But Orlando's not having any of that, so he sets off after her; when he finds out she's fallen for another dude, well... he gets a little nutso.
The problem is (if it indeed can be considered a "problem") that this first volume is almost 800 pages and it ends at the most inopportune time - in the middle of Orlando's greatest craze. Ariosto ended each chapter with a statement inviting readers to continue if they wanted to know more; he was the king of the cliffhanger. I'm not sure who decided to end Vol 1 exactly where they did, but I'd like to punch that person in the proverbial nutsack. This just means I have to get Vol 2 which has already proven to be difficult. As it was I found this at a neighborhood yard sale last year, and the guy I bought it from said he has never found Vol 2 either. (To be fair, we're talking about used copies locally, not going to Amazon or Abe or Alibris or any of those other sites.) Additionally the translator of Vol 1 is Barbara Reynolds; I don't have any previous experience with her translations that I'm aware of, so I don't know how she stacks up in the world of literary translations. I do know I enjoyed the read, and only wrinkled my nose at a couple phrases which could easily be Ariosto's own original, awkward phrasing as well as the fault of the translator. I would expect that this is a relatively decent translation or else I would have given up on it a long time ago.
Point is, now that I've read her translation of Vol 1, I most certainly need her translation (and only her translation) of Vol 2. So now that's my goal. The other goal is to read the book that started it all, Boiardo's Orlando Innamorato/Orlando in Love. I'm not sure, but I feel fairly confident saying I don't think I've ever seen a used copy of this. But then maybe I missed it because I wasn't previously searching it out.
There's so much going on in this book beyond the poon, beyond the politics and religion - there's magic too, including a magic ring (before Tolkien even existed, thankyouverymuch) and mythical creatures such as the hippogriff (I want one). I was surprised at how quickly the story moved along, and it really is because there's just so much happening. There are battle scenes in this poem that make The Iliad look like a Disney movie. Pretty gruesome stuff. It was freaking awesome.
ETA: I just recently read A Game of Thrones and made a complaint about fantasy novels always having a joust/tournament and a feast/banquet. Let the record show, Orlando Furioso also had both. I'm now on a mission to read more fantasy (especially older fantasy like this one) to see just which a-hole started the trend.
Read
August 21, 2016Perhaps the best damn swords-sorcerers-chivalry you'll ever find. I'd like to get around to a REAL review of sorts. Meanwhile, high rec's are left for your benefit.
______________
Orlando Furioso is absolutely fantastic. Fun. Here is an epic poem with trips to the moon and ass-kicking lady knights. Remember honor? An ethic and a world strange to us yet familiar enough that we might find here possibilities long lost to time.
I recommend Barbara Reynold's older (1975) translation over the recent Slavitt translation, which is probably very good, because with Reynold's you can get the whole poem while Slavitt, who translates only the first half, says (wrongly), ". . .with nearly seven hundred pages here, most appetites will be satisfied." No, you won't be satisfied with "nearly 700 pages." And, for goodness' sake, be sure that your translation is in verse.
______________
Orlando Furioso is absolutely fantastic. Fun. Here is an epic poem with trips to the moon and ass-kicking lady knights. Remember honor? An ethic and a world strange to us yet familiar enough that we might find here possibilities long lost to time.
I recommend Barbara Reynold's older (1975) translation over the recent Slavitt translation, which is probably very good, because with Reynold's you can get the whole poem while Slavitt, who translates only the first half, says (wrongly), ". . .with nearly seven hundred pages here, most appetites will be satisfied." No, you won't be satisfied with "nearly 700 pages." And, for goodness' sake, be sure that your translation is in verse.
August 15, 2024
Magnificent, sparkly, ingenious, energetic, joyful, funny, ironic, cheeky, at times sarcastic, at times epic, so full of beauty from the classics and from Ariosto’s times.
Somewhat empty, somewhat superficial, somewhat meaningless.
Somewhat empty, somewhat superficial, somewhat meaningless.
Read
June 12, 2020This is equal measures totally-awesome and quite-silly, and thus it's easy to see why Cervantes was moved to skewer it at the same time that Don Quixote was so enamored of it.
And I've only read Part 1, and the fury has just begun. When I've done with the second half, hopefully I'll have something more to share in terms of my own response and reflections... or maybe not. But it's happy reading time!
And I've only read Part 1, and the fury has just begun. When I've done with the second half, hopefully I'll have something more to share in terms of my own response and reflections... or maybe not. But it's happy reading time!
September 26, 2024
Ariosto continues Boiardo’s unfinished epic. His characters are richer, his scenes more varied, and he’s so much more ironic, it verges on parody.
July 8, 2012
Difficile de poser un avis sur cette œuvre extraordinaire. Derrière ce grand récit presque féérique du moyen-âge carolingien se cache une finesse psychologique un peu ironique et une modernité impressionnante. Le Roland Furieux est moderne a plus d’un titre, moderne devant sa liberté prise devant la religion catholique qui semble se transformer en une immense mythologie où, comme les Dieux de l’Olympe grecs d’antan, elle agit sur la fortune et l’infortune des héros de cette histoire, qui eux-mêmes ne respectent que rarement les dogmes chrétiens.
Moderne aussi par sa position novatrice envers les femmes de cette époque. On est loin du récit de chevalerie où une jeune femme est enfermée dans un château et attends qu’un gentil chevalier vienne la sauver. Ici, c’est souvent le contraire ! La stupéfiante Bradamante, qui sauve sans cesse son Roger des griffes des magiciennes et de mortels ennemis. Sans oublier Marphise, cette guerrière sarazzine qui n’hésite pas à se battre contre des hommes paladins. Et la vertueuse Isabelle, qui réussit à conserver sa chasteté par un moyen terrible mais redoutable : la mort.
Et puis, il y a aussi Angélique. Mais elle, je pourrai en écrire tout un roman, tant ce personnage est devenu un symbole dans toute la culture occidentale. Le Roland Furieux parle aussi, justement, de ce Roland, qui aime Angélique, mais qui découvrant que celle-ci s’est donnée à un autre que lui, Médor, devient fou et abandonne tout ses devoirs de chevalier. Cette folie, c’est l’incarnation même de la désillusion. Roland croyait être aimé d’une femme qu’il n’a que rarement vue. Rêveur, il retrouve la réalité et après s’être senti aimé, décide de se faire détester, haïr jusqu’au plus profond de lui-même. Il ne parle plus, il hurle comme un animal. Il détruit le lieu où Angélique et Médor se sont aimés. On peut se demander d’ailleurs si cette sorte d’Eden en proie à la destruction n’est pas un reflet de la chute d’Adam et Eve, et qu’au fond, ce Roland furieux n’est ni plus ni moins un Dieu vengeur mais incapable d’assumer la chose la plus naturelle : l’attraction charnelle, réprouvée par l’Eglise de son temps. Mais ce serait peut être allé un peu loin dans cette analyse !
Le mouvement aussi est très important dans cette œuvre. On voyage sans cesse, on ne s’arrête que très peu. Les récits s’enchainent rapidement. On passe d’un héro à un autre en quelques lignes. La liberté est partout. C’est d’ailleurs ce qui commence à naitre dans cette Renaissance, le désir de liberté. On (re)découvre un nouveau continent, la science se détache du carcan théologique, la Réforme va bientôt détruire l’unité catholique, bref, la folie de la nouveauté est en train de se répandre en Europe. L’Arioste (mais aussi Don Quichotte puis Le Tasse avec sa Jérusalem Délivrée) a compris ce changement et son chef d’œuvre n’en est que le reflet. Bref, c’est un monument et je désespère de ne pas avoir appris l’italien pour mieux goûter cette prose !
Moderne aussi par sa position novatrice envers les femmes de cette époque. On est loin du récit de chevalerie où une jeune femme est enfermée dans un château et attends qu’un gentil chevalier vienne la sauver. Ici, c’est souvent le contraire ! La stupéfiante Bradamante, qui sauve sans cesse son Roger des griffes des magiciennes et de mortels ennemis. Sans oublier Marphise, cette guerrière sarazzine qui n’hésite pas à se battre contre des hommes paladins. Et la vertueuse Isabelle, qui réussit à conserver sa chasteté par un moyen terrible mais redoutable : la mort.
Et puis, il y a aussi Angélique. Mais elle, je pourrai en écrire tout un roman, tant ce personnage est devenu un symbole dans toute la culture occidentale. Le Roland Furieux parle aussi, justement, de ce Roland, qui aime Angélique, mais qui découvrant que celle-ci s’est donnée à un autre que lui, Médor, devient fou et abandonne tout ses devoirs de chevalier. Cette folie, c’est l’incarnation même de la désillusion. Roland croyait être aimé d’une femme qu’il n’a que rarement vue. Rêveur, il retrouve la réalité et après s’être senti aimé, décide de se faire détester, haïr jusqu’au plus profond de lui-même. Il ne parle plus, il hurle comme un animal. Il détruit le lieu où Angélique et Médor se sont aimés. On peut se demander d’ailleurs si cette sorte d’Eden en proie à la destruction n’est pas un reflet de la chute d’Adam et Eve, et qu’au fond, ce Roland furieux n’est ni plus ni moins un Dieu vengeur mais incapable d’assumer la chose la plus naturelle : l’attraction charnelle, réprouvée par l’Eglise de son temps. Mais ce serait peut être allé un peu loin dans cette analyse !
Le mouvement aussi est très important dans cette œuvre. On voyage sans cesse, on ne s’arrête que très peu. Les récits s’enchainent rapidement. On passe d’un héro à un autre en quelques lignes. La liberté est partout. C’est d’ailleurs ce qui commence à naitre dans cette Renaissance, le désir de liberté. On (re)découvre un nouveau continent, la science se détache du carcan théologique, la Réforme va bientôt détruire l’unité catholique, bref, la folie de la nouveauté est en train de se répandre en Europe. L’Arioste (mais aussi Don Quichotte puis Le Tasse avec sa Jérusalem Délivrée) a compris ce changement et son chef d’œuvre n’en est que le reflet. Bref, c’est un monument et je désespère de ne pas avoir appris l’italien pour mieux goûter cette prose !
March 6, 2012
This is my favorite story of all time. It is a huge mideival epic (about 1500 pages long) that chronicles a war between France and Africa.
There are scores of main characters from both sides of the fight and their stories are interwoven nicely. Characters include an overprotective sorceror who keeps interfering with the true hero's attempts to join the battle, a knight who is only fighting in order to gather all of the Trojan warrior Hector's armaments, an insanely powerful female knight who never removes her armor that was forged in Hell, the 20 foot tall descendant of a biblical tyrant who tears through midieval Paris like something from a Godzilla movie, and a beautiful Indian princess who causes tons of chaos since about 75% of the other characters are in love with her.
The book also has many fairy tale creatures and includes a trip to the dark side of the moon. It is even entertaining to track the story's legendary items as they change hands and certain heroes (and villains) try to obtain them.
The central story, for which the book is named, is that of Count Orlando. Orlando is Charlamegne's nephew and the greatest of the paladins. He is mythically strong and virtually invincible but also seems more interested in pursuing Princess Angelica than the war. When he discovers that Angelica has married another, his grief turns to madness, and he spends many chapters wandering the countryside naked and kicking peasants into the horizon.
The core of "Orlando Furioso" is a story about heroes proving their valor in war. However, Ariosto will many times decide to leave the character he is following and pick up the story with another. As another character becomes the focus, their situations and motives change the mood of the story. Suddenly it will feel more like a love story, a revenge tale, mythology mixed with sci-fi, a heist story,or the chronicles of a madman. It's not just a good tale, its several good tales blended together to make for a great read.
There are scores of main characters from both sides of the fight and their stories are interwoven nicely. Characters include an overprotective sorceror who keeps interfering with the true hero's attempts to join the battle, a knight who is only fighting in order to gather all of the Trojan warrior Hector's armaments, an insanely powerful female knight who never removes her armor that was forged in Hell, the 20 foot tall descendant of a biblical tyrant who tears through midieval Paris like something from a Godzilla movie, and a beautiful Indian princess who causes tons of chaos since about 75% of the other characters are in love with her.
The book also has many fairy tale creatures and includes a trip to the dark side of the moon. It is even entertaining to track the story's legendary items as they change hands and certain heroes (and villains) try to obtain them.
The central story, for which the book is named, is that of Count Orlando. Orlando is Charlamegne's nephew and the greatest of the paladins. He is mythically strong and virtually invincible but also seems more interested in pursuing Princess Angelica than the war. When he discovers that Angelica has married another, his grief turns to madness, and he spends many chapters wandering the countryside naked and kicking peasants into the horizon.
The core of "Orlando Furioso" is a story about heroes proving their valor in war. However, Ariosto will many times decide to leave the character he is following and pick up the story with another. As another character becomes the focus, their situations and motives change the mood of the story. Suddenly it will feel more like a love story, a revenge tale, mythology mixed with sci-fi, a heist story,or the chronicles of a madman. It's not just a good tale, its several good tales blended together to make for a great read.
January 7, 2013
Again, I only read selections from this in an Italian Literature course so I did have help from a professor but it was cracking me up how raunchy it was! There was so much sex and action and it was honestly hilarious because it was really ridiculous.
But it was also kind of progressive because it has a female in shining armor that is trying to save her male love interest! So feminist of Ariosto :) But there are multiple story lines going on so if you want to read something classic like this I bet you can find something online that will tell you which chapters go together so you don't have to read the whole thing and can enjoy it more.
But it was also kind of progressive because it has a female in shining armor that is trying to save her male love interest! So feminist of Ariosto :) But there are multiple story lines going on so if you want to read something classic like this I bet you can find something online that will tell you which chapters go together so you don't have to read the whole thing and can enjoy it more.
Read
May 27, 2023An almost bewildering array of characters, plot devices, and interwoven storylines -- "bewildering" in both its modern and its etymological senses, as different characters are constantly lost, seeking, wandering, through forests and wastelands, along mountain paths and seashores, crossing paths with other characters and then losing them again. Storylines digress and shift, intertwine with other narrative threads and then separate again. But all of this is the whole point, the whole delight, of entrelacement -- the key thing is to embrace it, to just dive in and be swept along. You will be as "bewildered" as the characters themselves, and that's the purpose (and, again, the joy) of it.
A sorcerer upon a hippogriff; a secret stair that leads up a mountain to an inaccessible castle; a distant island in the far western seas, home to rival fairy-women; the voice of Merlin speaking from his tomb; an enchanted house that leads victims in never-ending pursuit of phantom desires; a magic ring that renders you impervious to spells, and a magic shield that renders all who look upon it unconscious; Ruggiero, astride the hippogriff, battling the sea-monster that threatens Angelica (chained to the rock, Andromeda-style); the treacherous Pinabello leaving Bradamante the female knight for dead, and Bradamante exacting her revenge over 500 pages later; the lady Isabella abducted by pirates, and rescued by Orlando...it's no wonder that the author of The Chronicles of Narnia was a devotee of Orlando Furioso (or that J.R.R. Tolkien was flattered when C.S. Lewis compared The Lord of the Rings to it). And all of this (and a lot more) in just Volume I! (I was amused that the titular event -- Orlando going mad -- didn't even occur until the final canto. I'm greatly looking forward to Volume II.)
A few other stray thoughts:
— I also have the Oxford World Classics prose translation, which I'll probably look into at some point; but now having read thus far, it feels almost inconceivable to not read Orlando Furioso in verse. The ottava rima stanzaic form is just too integral to the book's whole exuberant spirit: not only the playful humor, but also the poignant and earnest pathos.
— I always wondered why C.S. Lewis would compare LotR to a 16th-century romantic-chivalric Italian epic, a genre so different in mood, tone, and ethos to Tolkien's very "Northern" fantasy. I assumed it had to do with the fact that Orlando Furioso is A) long and B) full of enchantment and magic. But I wasn't giving C.S. Lewis enough credit (rarely a good idea). It's not just the epic length and use of fantasy: it's the interweaving of plot-threads, and above all that idea of "bewilderment."
— Orlando Furioso really is a window into The Chronicles of Narnia in a variety of ways.
— As someone who's been attempting to go deeper into Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene, this was an illuminating read: it's really interesting to see what Spenser took from Ariosto, and how he modified what he took -- not only giving it Christian symbolism, but deepening its gravitas and its sense of virtue and profundity. (It's comparable in some ways to what Malory did with French Arthurian romance.)
— It was interesting to see, from the vantage point of the early 16th century, Ariosto's distaste for guns and cannons, which he depicts as A) ruinous to valor and honor because they dehumanize combat ("Gone is all courage, chivalry is gone, / In combat once the only paragon"), and B) originating from demonic inspiration (the devils delighting in how much more efficient such weapons would be at killing mortals; Ariosto thus accordingly places the inventor of firearms in Hell). In the "days of yore" setting of the tale, Orlando encounters the world's first cannon -- and, outraged, promptly hurls it into the ocean.
A sorcerer upon a hippogriff; a secret stair that leads up a mountain to an inaccessible castle; a distant island in the far western seas, home to rival fairy-women; the voice of Merlin speaking from his tomb; an enchanted house that leads victims in never-ending pursuit of phantom desires; a magic ring that renders you impervious to spells, and a magic shield that renders all who look upon it unconscious; Ruggiero, astride the hippogriff, battling the sea-monster that threatens Angelica (chained to the rock, Andromeda-style); the treacherous Pinabello leaving Bradamante the female knight for dead, and Bradamante exacting her revenge over 500 pages later; the lady Isabella abducted by pirates, and rescued by Orlando...it's no wonder that the author of The Chronicles of Narnia was a devotee of Orlando Furioso (or that J.R.R. Tolkien was flattered when C.S. Lewis compared The Lord of the Rings to it). And all of this (and a lot more) in just Volume I! (I was amused that the titular event -- Orlando going mad -- didn't even occur until the final canto. I'm greatly looking forward to Volume II.)
A few other stray thoughts:
— I also have the Oxford World Classics prose translation, which I'll probably look into at some point; but now having read thus far, it feels almost inconceivable to not read Orlando Furioso in verse. The ottava rima stanzaic form is just too integral to the book's whole exuberant spirit: not only the playful humor, but also the poignant and earnest pathos.
— I always wondered why C.S. Lewis would compare LotR to a 16th-century romantic-chivalric Italian epic, a genre so different in mood, tone, and ethos to Tolkien's very "Northern" fantasy. I assumed it had to do with the fact that Orlando Furioso is A) long and B) full of enchantment and magic. But I wasn't giving C.S. Lewis enough credit (rarely a good idea). It's not just the epic length and use of fantasy: it's the interweaving of plot-threads, and above all that idea of "bewilderment."
— Orlando Furioso really is a window into The Chronicles of Narnia in a variety of ways.
— As someone who's been attempting to go deeper into Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene, this was an illuminating read: it's really interesting to see what Spenser took from Ariosto, and how he modified what he took -- not only giving it Christian symbolism, but deepening its gravitas and its sense of virtue and profundity. (It's comparable in some ways to what Malory did with French Arthurian romance.)
— It was interesting to see, from the vantage point of the early 16th century, Ariosto's distaste for guns and cannons, which he depicts as A) ruinous to valor and honor because they dehumanize combat ("Gone is all courage, chivalry is gone, / In combat once the only paragon"), and B) originating from demonic inspiration (the devils delighting in how much more efficient such weapons would be at killing mortals; Ariosto thus accordingly places the inventor of firearms in Hell). In the "days of yore" setting of the tale, Orlando encounters the world's first cannon -- and, outraged, promptly hurls it into the ocean.
March 19, 2020
A note on translation: I used Reynolds to compare, contrast, and fill in the gaps with the Slavitt translation. Slavitt takes liberties, and Reynolds has merit, but I’ve got to say, for compulsive readability, and cheeky irreverence that feels like it honors the spirit of the original, Slavitt it is.
June 23, 2008
Love and war, that's what this long (long!) early 16th century romantic epic is all about, bringing together the classical tradition with that of the chansons de geste and medieval romance and pointing (as epics are obliged to do) toward the future. As one might expect, that future is Christian and European, and especially Italian. The reader predisposed by the ostentatious shittiness of today's world leadership to disapprove of 'nationalist' rhetoric and praise lavished on various royal patrons will have to focus on something else when it comes up.
And there is a LOT to focus on. Though written in 1516(ish) the action is set in the time of Charlemagne, and centered around the siege of Paris by the (fictional) Saracen King of Africa, Agramante, and his coalition of infidels. The cavalier heroes, however, are more often concerned with their personal honor and obsessive love affairs than politics. The narrator skips around the five or so major couples and their exploits, which take them around the then vaguely known world (even Japan, appearing here as a version of Circe's island), in the process synthesizing a mythic history and cultural geography adequate to the changes taking place in 16th century Europe.
For the modern reader such as myself, the effect weirdly resembles Hollywood versions of high fantasy (i.e. Star Wars, Tolkien), partly for all the special effects -- a shield that emits a medusa-like paralysis ray, a ring of invisibility, a hippogriff (actually those just remind me of Dungeons & Dragons) -- but also in that its multiple plotlines are roughly divisible into military/political and romantic aspects that are equally important and interrelate. So you don't have, like in Homer, a war or quest next to which everything else is secondary, nor do you have, like in the romance, a chivalric adventure with the kingdom totally in the background.
We even get a bit of psychology. Not in the same way as the 'modern' novel or drama, but also not without complexity. Orlando's romantic frustrations gradually drive him mad -- love is represented as a terrible, uncontrollable, and contradictory passion, capable of tearing apart lives and empires. This bit vaguely resembles Shakespeare:
Ah, cruel Love! What is the reason why
You seldom make our longings correspond?
How is it, traitor, you rejoice to spy
Two hearts discordant, one repelled, one fond?
Into the darkest, blindest depths must I
Be drawn, when I might ford a limpid pond?
Towards her who loves, you stifle my desire;
For her who hates, you set my heart on fire. (II/1)
The way women and non-Europeans are represented is pretty fascinating. The infidels are often called dastardly and villainous and tend in general to be less heroic, but a number of major characters (Rodomonte, Mandricardo, Marfisa, etc.) are exceptions to the rule. Same with women, except weak-willed and duplicitous rather than villainous. In what becomes the central romantic couple, not only is Bradamante a Christian and Ruggiero an infidel (at first anyway), Bradamante, the woman, gets the 'Aeneas' role: Merlin (!) gives her, not Ruggiero, visions of their royal descendants (a line which course culminates with Ariosto's patrons). She's also a serious badass.
Random note -- Book XIX-XX may feature the earliest women-only society (excepting the breeders) I've seen after the Amazons. Not sure about that though.
I know what you're thinking. Why haven't I heard of this poem? Well, it was a huge immediate influence on Cervantes, Shakespeare, Spenser, and Milton, and went on to inspire the Romantics -- Shelley and Byron (who borrowed the form for his epic Don Juan). But as the 19th century progressed it fell out of favor for lack of 'moral seriousness,' its influence largely restricted to fantasy authors like William Morris and C.S. Lewis. European culture has long had a rocky relationship with 'fun.'
I made two mistakes when picking this book up to read that I didn't bother to correct: one, this 827-page tome is part one of two and I don't have the time or energy for part two right now, and the other, the whole thing is in fact itself a sequel to the unfinished Orlando innamorato by Matteo Maria Boiardo, which Ariosto refers to constantly. Good footnotes by the translator made up for the second mistake; hopefully some time will clear up in the not-too-distant future so I can make up for the first.
Oh yeah, great translation.
And there is a LOT to focus on. Though written in 1516(ish) the action is set in the time of Charlemagne, and centered around the siege of Paris by the (fictional) Saracen King of Africa, Agramante, and his coalition of infidels. The cavalier heroes, however, are more often concerned with their personal honor and obsessive love affairs than politics. The narrator skips around the five or so major couples and their exploits, which take them around the then vaguely known world (even Japan, appearing here as a version of Circe's island), in the process synthesizing a mythic history and cultural geography adequate to the changes taking place in 16th century Europe.
For the modern reader such as myself, the effect weirdly resembles Hollywood versions of high fantasy (i.e. Star Wars, Tolkien), partly for all the special effects -- a shield that emits a medusa-like paralysis ray, a ring of invisibility, a hippogriff (actually those just remind me of Dungeons & Dragons) -- but also in that its multiple plotlines are roughly divisible into military/political and romantic aspects that are equally important and interrelate. So you don't have, like in Homer, a war or quest next to which everything else is secondary, nor do you have, like in the romance, a chivalric adventure with the kingdom totally in the background.
We even get a bit of psychology. Not in the same way as the 'modern' novel or drama, but also not without complexity. Orlando's romantic frustrations gradually drive him mad -- love is represented as a terrible, uncontrollable, and contradictory passion, capable of tearing apart lives and empires. This bit vaguely resembles Shakespeare:
Ah, cruel Love! What is the reason why
You seldom make our longings correspond?
How is it, traitor, you rejoice to spy
Two hearts discordant, one repelled, one fond?
Into the darkest, blindest depths must I
Be drawn, when I might ford a limpid pond?
Towards her who loves, you stifle my desire;
For her who hates, you set my heart on fire. (II/1)
The way women and non-Europeans are represented is pretty fascinating. The infidels are often called dastardly and villainous and tend in general to be less heroic, but a number of major characters (Rodomonte, Mandricardo, Marfisa, etc.) are exceptions to the rule. Same with women, except weak-willed and duplicitous rather than villainous. In what becomes the central romantic couple, not only is Bradamante a Christian and Ruggiero an infidel (at first anyway), Bradamante, the woman, gets the 'Aeneas' role: Merlin (!) gives her, not Ruggiero, visions of their royal descendants (a line which course culminates with Ariosto's patrons). She's also a serious badass.
Random note -- Book XIX-XX may feature the earliest women-only society (excepting the breeders) I've seen after the Amazons. Not sure about that though.
I know what you're thinking. Why haven't I heard of this poem? Well, it was a huge immediate influence on Cervantes, Shakespeare, Spenser, and Milton, and went on to inspire the Romantics -- Shelley and Byron (who borrowed the form for his epic Don Juan). But as the 19th century progressed it fell out of favor for lack of 'moral seriousness,' its influence largely restricted to fantasy authors like William Morris and C.S. Lewis. European culture has long had a rocky relationship with 'fun.'
I made two mistakes when picking this book up to read that I didn't bother to correct: one, this 827-page tome is part one of two and I don't have the time or energy for part two right now, and the other, the whole thing is in fact itself a sequel to the unfinished Orlando innamorato by Matteo Maria Boiardo, which Ariosto refers to constantly. Good footnotes by the translator made up for the second mistake; hopefully some time will clear up in the not-too-distant future so I can make up for the first.
Oh yeah, great translation.
August 6, 2024
The first part of this 1200+ page epic poem. Just so much fun and full with great characters and the adventures are unforgettable.
November 22, 2018
Boiardo combined the Matter of France (the chansons de geste) with the Matter of Britain (boring King Arthur stuff) and the Matter of Rome (classical myth and history as remembered by medievals) plus Christian allegory and all of the stories that were starting to trickle into Europe as people explored the outside world. What you got was Orlando Innamorato, a great poem that feels like an odd mix, and very late medieval.
Ariosto's sequel runs this stuff through his ideas of verisimilitude and irony, and the resulting poem feels alive. It feels new, even all these centuries later. The verisimilitude, I'm convinced, comes straight from the new methods of Renaissance painting. (Admittedly the irony didn't feel as prominent to me as when I'd read Guido Waldman's prose translation a few years ago.) I love this poem. It's important to me.
This time around (and I'm still only in the first half), the characters that stuck out to me were Orlando and Angelica.
I was disappointed by Orlando last time because, still being relatively new to the chansons de geste, I wanted Roland. Heroics and all that. But this time around I was ready and prepared for the slightly subversive take on his now lovelorn character. Though there are still heroics: he fights pirates, gunmen and a seamonster before his insanity sets in.
Angelica I'm still not sure what to make of. The one area where Boiardo beats Ariosto is in his treatment of women and non-europeans. In the Innamorato, they can compete on equal footing. Here, virtuous pagans are doomed to convert. Angelica goes from Boiardo's mix of femme fatale, Helen of Troy, and even a sort of Penelope rallying her various suitors to her defence to Ariosto's scared teenager on the run. It's the most jarring change of character from Boiardo to Ariosto. It's hard to know what to make of it, for every bit of proto-feminism, Ariosto has something equally misogynistic.
My favourite characters are still Astolfo and Marfisa, who went from being comic relief in Boiardo to gaining dignity in Ariosto. A very sweet moment happens on the road to Damascus when they're happy to run into each other and tell each other of their adventures, and then the shame Marfisa feels when she accidentally abandons him leaving Alessandressa makes it all the more poignant.
The Siege of Paris made more sense on this second reading, how couldn't it? It's easier to keep track of the enemy characters, and Reynolds does such a good job of laying out the battle on her maps. Likewise with incorporating Rinaldo's Scotland adventure into the battle of Paris, which I think I missed last time. The best episodes, generally, are the ones that divert the most from the standard trope of a knight errant accidentally stumbling upon adventure in the woods and being forced into a joust: Alcina's island, the nautical episodes featuring Olimpia and the Ebudans, the Amazon episode, the Tournament in Damascus, Rodomont's sacking of Paris.
The contemporary bits are starting to make a bit more sense to me as I learn more about the House of Este, but they still don't interest me much. Still, it's wild just how much material Ariosto is able to cram into this poem.
Ariosto's sequel runs this stuff through his ideas of verisimilitude and irony, and the resulting poem feels alive. It feels new, even all these centuries later. The verisimilitude, I'm convinced, comes straight from the new methods of Renaissance painting. (Admittedly the irony didn't feel as prominent to me as when I'd read Guido Waldman's prose translation a few years ago.) I love this poem. It's important to me.
This time around (and I'm still only in the first half), the characters that stuck out to me were Orlando and Angelica.
I was disappointed by Orlando last time because, still being relatively new to the chansons de geste, I wanted Roland. Heroics and all that. But this time around I was ready and prepared for the slightly subversive take on his now lovelorn character. Though there are still heroics: he fights pirates, gunmen and a seamonster before his insanity sets in.
Angelica I'm still not sure what to make of. The one area where Boiardo beats Ariosto is in his treatment of women and non-europeans. In the Innamorato, they can compete on equal footing. Here, virtuous pagans are doomed to convert. Angelica goes from Boiardo's mix of femme fatale, Helen of Troy, and even a sort of Penelope rallying her various suitors to her defence to Ariosto's scared teenager on the run. It's the most jarring change of character from Boiardo to Ariosto. It's hard to know what to make of it, for every bit of proto-feminism, Ariosto has something equally misogynistic.
My favourite characters are still Astolfo and Marfisa, who went from being comic relief in Boiardo to gaining dignity in Ariosto. A very sweet moment happens on the road to Damascus when they're happy to run into each other and tell each other of their adventures, and then the shame Marfisa feels when she accidentally abandons him leaving Alessandressa makes it all the more poignant.
The Siege of Paris made more sense on this second reading, how couldn't it? It's easier to keep track of the enemy characters, and Reynolds does such a good job of laying out the battle on her maps. Likewise with incorporating Rinaldo's Scotland adventure into the battle of Paris, which I think I missed last time. The best episodes, generally, are the ones that divert the most from the standard trope of a knight errant accidentally stumbling upon adventure in the woods and being forced into a joust: Alcina's island, the nautical episodes featuring Olimpia and the Ebudans, the Amazon episode, the Tournament in Damascus, Rodomont's sacking of Paris.
The contemporary bits are starting to make a bit more sense to me as I learn more about the House of Este, but they still don't interest me much. Still, it's wild just how much material Ariosto is able to cram into this poem.
June 8, 2007
Don Quixote does a great job of making fun of heroic romances, so imagine my surprise when I read this one and it was really great. Though I can't compare with the Italian as I don't speak it, the English of this translation is great -- witty, lively, and smooth -- and the story itself is action-packed without taking itself too seriously. A great read.
June 7, 2007
Awesome, awesome Italian epic poetry that deserves to be WAY better-known. Kicks the shit out of Dante any day.
July 17, 2019
Orlando Furioso is shamelessly frivolous, but exquisitely fun. Detail is not Ariosto's strong point, and neither is poetry in the sense of elegance or nuance. But part of what makes the book so approachable is that, unlike other works of the renaissance, it does not make a spectacle of its intellect. It is pure, unpretentious fantasy, executed with modest perfection.
The structure of the poem is an unbroken stream of rambling, enmeshed episodes, giving the impression of a vast, panoramic tapestry, and Ariosto uses it as a playground for his immense charisma. The aim of the poem is not to enrich but simply to entertain, and this is accomplished with such simplicity and such copious generosity that it appears effortless. The effect is, however, the result of a careful technique- albeit a transparent one. Ariosto's devotion to moderation and balance means that the poem is endlessly delightful, but rarely provocative or moving and never upsetting. Both the author and the reader are emotionally detached in a way that is both serene and stunted (the occasional sober moments mostly come when Ariosto laments the corruption of his own time).
There are almost no actual characters, only dimensionless but picturesque algorithms of desire and chivalry placed in endlessly shifting situations. But Orlando's descent into madness is legitimately affecting, and all the more powerful for the otherwise un-psychological backdrop of the poem (of course, in a turn typical of Ariosto, Orlando's madness is also the impetus of the epic's most hilarious moments). Bradamante is another exception. Her amorous, broken-hearted and spiteful soliloquies are the most Shakespearean aspect of the poem, and her tortured longing for Ruggiero lead to its most dramatic moments- as when she mistakenly believes him to be unfaithful and challenges him to combat, saying "Die with me here! Inferno will restore/ You to me, to be mine for evermore." The exclamation is made all the more powerful as it is said in the midst of a bloody religious battle between Christians an "infidels." This is just one example of the ways in which Ariosto manages to gracefully mesh individual detail with epic scope (the Bradamante/ Ruggiero romance, far more than the frenzy of Orlando, is the focus of the swirling narrative).
In fact, the best character here is Ariosto himself as the narrator. He is surely one of the most likable characters in literature, and no reader (including a modern reader) could ask to be in better hands. Misled by Cervantes, some may be surprised at how ironic Ariosto's dealing with chivalry can be: his treatment is both affectionate and hyper-aware of its patent absurdity. There are almost no forces of undiluted good present in the poem- many of the cavaliers, after rescuing a damsel in distress, are just as likely to turn around and attempt to violate her themselves. He has a grotesque sense of humor regarding violence, but also a sobering willingness to portray its gritty realities (The harsh realities of war impose/ More searching tests of valor, be it said,/ Than grace or style . . .).
Astolfo's trip to the moon is exemplary of Ariosto's unusual use of tone. It is, like the rest of the poem, simply a lovely flight of fancy- but it is given a religious background, social commentary and veiled cynicism, intricate allegory, and ends with a lightly humorous celebration of poets, which also serves to deflate any of Ariosto's earlier attempts at seriousness and mock both himself and his patrons.
Finally, the book is strikingly ahead of its time in its treatment of women, especially given its genre. Gender dynamics are a consistent playground. Damsels in distress abound, but so do heroic women. In fact Marfisa is described as both the physically strongest and most devoted to chivalry of all the epic's many characters. Ariosto not only claims that women are underappreciated for skills normally attributed to men, but insists that women themselves must begin to strive for their own legacy and renown.
This is epic poetry designed to please everyone, and it comes as close to accomplishing its aim as any piece of literature can hope to. I do not know how much of this praise is due to Barbara Reynolds' translation, but is certainly true that the poem is joy to read for this English speaker, and this must be due in large part to her handling of the original text.
The structure of the poem is an unbroken stream of rambling, enmeshed episodes, giving the impression of a vast, panoramic tapestry, and Ariosto uses it as a playground for his immense charisma. The aim of the poem is not to enrich but simply to entertain, and this is accomplished with such simplicity and such copious generosity that it appears effortless. The effect is, however, the result of a careful technique- albeit a transparent one. Ariosto's devotion to moderation and balance means that the poem is endlessly delightful, but rarely provocative or moving and never upsetting. Both the author and the reader are emotionally detached in a way that is both serene and stunted (the occasional sober moments mostly come when Ariosto laments the corruption of his own time).
There are almost no actual characters, only dimensionless but picturesque algorithms of desire and chivalry placed in endlessly shifting situations. But Orlando's descent into madness is legitimately affecting, and all the more powerful for the otherwise un-psychological backdrop of the poem (of course, in a turn typical of Ariosto, Orlando's madness is also the impetus of the epic's most hilarious moments). Bradamante is another exception. Her amorous, broken-hearted and spiteful soliloquies are the most Shakespearean aspect of the poem, and her tortured longing for Ruggiero lead to its most dramatic moments- as when she mistakenly believes him to be unfaithful and challenges him to combat, saying "Die with me here! Inferno will restore/ You to me, to be mine for evermore." The exclamation is made all the more powerful as it is said in the midst of a bloody religious battle between Christians an "infidels." This is just one example of the ways in which Ariosto manages to gracefully mesh individual detail with epic scope (the Bradamante/ Ruggiero romance, far more than the frenzy of Orlando, is the focus of the swirling narrative).
In fact, the best character here is Ariosto himself as the narrator. He is surely one of the most likable characters in literature, and no reader (including a modern reader) could ask to be in better hands. Misled by Cervantes, some may be surprised at how ironic Ariosto's dealing with chivalry can be: his treatment is both affectionate and hyper-aware of its patent absurdity. There are almost no forces of undiluted good present in the poem- many of the cavaliers, after rescuing a damsel in distress, are just as likely to turn around and attempt to violate her themselves. He has a grotesque sense of humor regarding violence, but also a sobering willingness to portray its gritty realities (The harsh realities of war impose/ More searching tests of valor, be it said,/ Than grace or style . . .).
Astolfo's trip to the moon is exemplary of Ariosto's unusual use of tone. It is, like the rest of the poem, simply a lovely flight of fancy- but it is given a religious background, social commentary and veiled cynicism, intricate allegory, and ends with a lightly humorous celebration of poets, which also serves to deflate any of Ariosto's earlier attempts at seriousness and mock both himself and his patrons.
Finally, the book is strikingly ahead of its time in its treatment of women, especially given its genre. Gender dynamics are a consistent playground. Damsels in distress abound, but so do heroic women. In fact Marfisa is described as both the physically strongest and most devoted to chivalry of all the epic's many characters. Ariosto not only claims that women are underappreciated for skills normally attributed to men, but insists that women themselves must begin to strive for their own legacy and renown.
This is epic poetry designed to please everyone, and it comes as close to accomplishing its aim as any piece of literature can hope to. I do not know how much of this praise is due to Barbara Reynolds' translation, but is certainly true that the poem is joy to read for this English speaker, and this must be due in large part to her handling of the original text.
September 3, 2024
Chi ha detto che i classici non invecchiano? Invecchiano anche loro. Restano grandi monumenti del passato, testimonianza di un’epoca, dell’impegno e del talento umani, ma smettono di insegnare, e soprattutto di emozionare. Difficile immedesimarsi nell’Orlando furioso, così distante per gusto, sensibilità, valori morali. Lo salva l’ironia, che alleggerisce anche gli eccessi encomiastici (smaccata la piaggeria nei confronti di Ippolito e del casato d’Este), le tirate razzistiche, omofobe, misogine, i moralismi oggi anacronistici. Ma non sarebbe corretto neppure esagerarne la portata: molto di ciò che a noi lettori moderni sembra ironico, se non addirittura grottesco, all’epoca veniva preso ben più sul serio. Anche il fantastico poche volte vibra di autentica potenza metaforica. Ci sono, indubbiamente, l’eleganza dei versi, il nitore dello stile, la sapienza metrica e rimica. E ci sono lo sdegno, la misantropia, il disprezzo di Angelica, che fugge da quel mondo di paladini infoiati di cui intuisce la follia.
Read
January 31, 2021Read in 2006 after returning from the Anthony Powell Centenary Conference. Still working in my head on a 15-year-old idea for a paper!
June 29, 2021
Probably the only chivalric Italian epic poem you need to take to the beach this summer.
September 9, 2021
First thoughts:
Though this edition includes a helpful introduction; nevertheless, by the end of Canto I, I'm all at sea. I need historical context to embrace the romantic poetry, place Ariosto's tales into a world so remote from ours. Cassell's Chronology of World History: Dates, Events and Ideas That Made History, one of my favorite reference books is a good start but that sends me on a search for further enlightenment on 15th & 16th century Europe. It may take some time until I'm able to make further progress here ....
Second thoughts:
As it turns out, whether the epic poem came close to reflecting historical fact matters little: this is sheer entertainment, replete with romanticized (and often comical) battles, thwarted wooings, merry chases and handy bits of fantasy. Echoes of Virgil, Homer, Ovid; inspiration for Tolkien, Wagner, Cervantes and countless other fantasists.
Further thoughts:
Much needs to be said about Barbara Reynolds' translation: While she may well have taken considerable liberties with the text in order to achieve her ends, the result is quite marvelous. It sings along in rollicking iambic rhythm and clever, pithy rhyme. It's easy to imagine a 16th century tavern, featuring a lusty troubadour setting the tale to jaunty melody, accompanying himself on the lute, pausing between stanzas to exchange jokes with his audience and quaffing another mug of beer.
Final thoughts:Any book that runs to 800 pages risks trying the patience of readers unless it offers more than one form of value. If its aim is to enlighten, it must also make the experience a congenial one — i.e. it must seek to be both loved and admired. This epic poem (enhanced by substantial introduction and notes) meets that test admirably. One might quibble about the historical accuracy or even relevance of some of the tales but the overall picture presented of late-medieval Europe is both wide-ranging and at least culturally sound. And although many readers are likely to find an epic poem of some 18,000 lines daunting, this one charms us right from its opening lines with its wit and its colorful depiction of a host of characters and their exploits. Thoroughly enjoyable!
Though this edition includes a helpful introduction; nevertheless, by the end of Canto I, I'm all at sea. I need historical context to embrace the romantic poetry, place Ariosto's tales into a world so remote from ours. Cassell's Chronology of World History: Dates, Events and Ideas That Made History, one of my favorite reference books is a good start but that sends me on a search for further enlightenment on 15th & 16th century Europe. It may take some time until I'm able to make further progress here ....
Second thoughts:
As it turns out, whether the epic poem came close to reflecting historical fact matters little: this is sheer entertainment, replete with romanticized (and often comical) battles, thwarted wooings, merry chases and handy bits of fantasy. Echoes of Virgil, Homer, Ovid; inspiration for Tolkien, Wagner, Cervantes and countless other fantasists.
Further thoughts:
Much needs to be said about Barbara Reynolds' translation: While she may well have taken considerable liberties with the text in order to achieve her ends, the result is quite marvelous. It sings along in rollicking iambic rhythm and clever, pithy rhyme. It's easy to imagine a 16th century tavern, featuring a lusty troubadour setting the tale to jaunty melody, accompanying himself on the lute, pausing between stanzas to exchange jokes with his audience and quaffing another mug of beer.
Final thoughts:Any book that runs to 800 pages risks trying the patience of readers unless it offers more than one form of value. If its aim is to enlighten, it must also make the experience a congenial one — i.e. it must seek to be both loved and admired. This epic poem (enhanced by substantial introduction and notes) meets that test admirably. One might quibble about the historical accuracy or even relevance of some of the tales but the overall picture presented of late-medieval Europe is both wide-ranging and at least culturally sound. And although many readers are likely to find an epic poem of some 18,000 lines daunting, this one charms us right from its opening lines with its wit and its colorful depiction of a host of characters and their exploits. Thoroughly enjoyable!
September 2, 2019
My first attempt at reading this epic poem was using the online version from Project Gutenberg and translated by William Stewart Rose. I had difficulty following it when I tried reading it on my computer screen, so I printed portions out hoping that seeing text on the page would make things easier. It didn’t. I was confused, perplexed and lost. Then, I discovered the translation by Barbara Reynolds.
“Of ladies, cavaliers, of love and war,
Of courtesies and of brave deeds I sing.
In times of high endeavor when the Moor
Had crossed the sea from Africa to bring
Great harm to France, when Agramante swore
In wrath, being now the youthful Moorish king,
To avenge Troiano, who was lately slain,
Upon the Roman Emperor Charlemagne.”
Those opening words in her translation set forth an expectation of a grand tale encompassing war, romance, and heroic acts. It was like a light had been turned on in a darkened room. All of a sudden, I was able to read, understand, and enjoy the story.
The Penguin Classics translation of Orlando furioso is in two volumes. It is unabridged and divides the epic poem into roughly two even parts. Volume One ends with Orlando losing his wits and the story picks up from there in Volume Two. Together there are 1,632 pages with lots of lovely white space to make reading easier on the eyes. (Waldman’s one volume prose edition is only 656 pages and is difficult to read with the small font and compressed text.)
The only real complaint I have about this version is that there are spoilers contained in the indexes at the beginning of the first volume. I consulted it regularly and so there were some aspects of the story that did not come as a surprise to me, because I knew about it far more prematurely than I would have otherwise wanted to.
Reynolds version is my favorite translation. I have been working on the adaptation of "Orlando furioso" and "Orlando innamorato" into a series of novels for modern day readers.
At times, I refer back to the source material for inspiration and will find a passage that needs clarity. At those times, I will consult both Reynolds and Guido Waldman’s versions. Occasionally, I will compare a passage to other translators’ work as well. In doing so, my appreciation for Barbara Reynolds’ craft has increased. I am indebted to those who have the knowledge of the Italian language and can translate the meaning into something I can understand. And, the poem wasn’t written in modern Italian, it was written in archaic Italian. I have Italian friends who, when asked about Orlando furioso, will wince and mention how they disliked being required to read it, because it was in archaic Italian. I have a similar difficulty reading Chaucer in old English. So, Reynolds not only had to understand the Italian language, but she had to have an understanding of how that romance language has changed and evolved over the centuries.
Her version is my favorite.
“Of ladies, cavaliers, of love and war,
Of courtesies and of brave deeds I sing.
In times of high endeavor when the Moor
Had crossed the sea from Africa to bring
Great harm to France, when Agramante swore
In wrath, being now the youthful Moorish king,
To avenge Troiano, who was lately slain,
Upon the Roman Emperor Charlemagne.”
Those opening words in her translation set forth an expectation of a grand tale encompassing war, romance, and heroic acts. It was like a light had been turned on in a darkened room. All of a sudden, I was able to read, understand, and enjoy the story.
The Penguin Classics translation of Orlando furioso is in two volumes. It is unabridged and divides the epic poem into roughly two even parts. Volume One ends with Orlando losing his wits and the story picks up from there in Volume Two. Together there are 1,632 pages with lots of lovely white space to make reading easier on the eyes. (Waldman’s one volume prose edition is only 656 pages and is difficult to read with the small font and compressed text.)
The only real complaint I have about this version is that there are spoilers contained in the indexes at the beginning of the first volume. I consulted it regularly and so there were some aspects of the story that did not come as a surprise to me, because I knew about it far more prematurely than I would have otherwise wanted to.
Reynolds version is my favorite translation. I have been working on the adaptation of "Orlando furioso" and "Orlando innamorato" into a series of novels for modern day readers.
At times, I refer back to the source material for inspiration and will find a passage that needs clarity. At those times, I will consult both Reynolds and Guido Waldman’s versions. Occasionally, I will compare a passage to other translators’ work as well. In doing so, my appreciation for Barbara Reynolds’ craft has increased. I am indebted to those who have the knowledge of the Italian language and can translate the meaning into something I can understand. And, the poem wasn’t written in modern Italian, it was written in archaic Italian. I have Italian friends who, when asked about Orlando furioso, will wince and mention how they disliked being required to read it, because it was in archaic Italian. I have a similar difficulty reading Chaucer in old English. So, Reynolds not only had to understand the Italian language, but she had to have an understanding of how that romance language has changed and evolved over the centuries.
Her version is my favorite.
April 9, 2020
In my prized hardback edition of The Lord of the Rings, on the inside dust jacket, there's an encomium to the book by C.S. Lewis. When I first read The Lord of the Rings, I'd never read any of the Narnia books, nor did I have any idea who C.S. Lewis was, but for some reason, his review always stuck in my mind: "If Ariosto rivalled it in invention (in fact he does not) he would still lack its heroic seriousness."
Who was this Ariosto bloke being compared to Tolkien? More years later than I care to remember, I decided to find out. Turned out, Ludovico Ariosto (1474-1533) was an Italian, the court poet of the d'Este family, the dukes of Ferrara, and he had written Orlando Furioso for them. Well, I am half Italian, my family in Italy live near Ferrara, I have visited the city many times and the castle of the d'Este family still dominates the centre of the town, so I decided to read Ariosto's most famous work.
It is a delight. A riotous, tumbling, weaving tapestry of interlocking stories, all more marvellous and epic than the last, with the characters' tales threading through the narrative - enlivened by Ariosto's wry voice - in a veritable cornucopia of wonders. There are flying horses, dragons, battles, maidens so beautiful they drive men mad, contening paladins, magicians, wizards, witches, oaths unwisely taken and, of course, love. The story is set in the time of Charlemagne, but in the story it bears as much relationship to the real Charlemagne and his knights as the medieval tales of Arthur do to a possible fifth century Brythonic war captain.
What's particularly striking is Ariosto's sympathy for and treatment of women - these are no virginal stereotypes but run the full range of women, with the two standouts being Angelica, who weaponises her beauty and drives Orlando to madness, and Bradamante, the slightly dim warrior maiden who can outmatch any man in tourney.
It's a wonderful series of tales and I've only got half way: this volume contains the first half of Barbara Reynolds' delightful translation from the Italian. Once, every eductated person knew the tale of the madness of Orlando: would that they would again.
Who was this Ariosto bloke being compared to Tolkien? More years later than I care to remember, I decided to find out. Turned out, Ludovico Ariosto (1474-1533) was an Italian, the court poet of the d'Este family, the dukes of Ferrara, and he had written Orlando Furioso for them. Well, I am half Italian, my family in Italy live near Ferrara, I have visited the city many times and the castle of the d'Este family still dominates the centre of the town, so I decided to read Ariosto's most famous work.
It is a delight. A riotous, tumbling, weaving tapestry of interlocking stories, all more marvellous and epic than the last, with the characters' tales threading through the narrative - enlivened by Ariosto's wry voice - in a veritable cornucopia of wonders. There are flying horses, dragons, battles, maidens so beautiful they drive men mad, contening paladins, magicians, wizards, witches, oaths unwisely taken and, of course, love. The story is set in the time of Charlemagne, but in the story it bears as much relationship to the real Charlemagne and his knights as the medieval tales of Arthur do to a possible fifth century Brythonic war captain.
What's particularly striking is Ariosto's sympathy for and treatment of women - these are no virginal stereotypes but run the full range of women, with the two standouts being Angelica, who weaponises her beauty and drives Orlando to madness, and Bradamante, the slightly dim warrior maiden who can outmatch any man in tourney.
It's a wonderful series of tales and I've only got half way: this volume contains the first half of Barbara Reynolds' delightful translation from the Italian. Once, every eductated person knew the tale of the madness of Orlando: would that they would again.
June 11, 2023
This epic poem had great influence on later culture. The oldest version appeared in 1516, although the poem was not published in its full form until 1532. Orlando Furioso is a continuation of Matteo Maria Boiardo's unfinished novel, Orlando Innamorato (Orlando in love, published posthumously in 1495). In his setting and historical characters, he shares some characteristics with the former French Chanson de Roland of the 11th century, which tells the death of Roland. The story is also a cavalry novel that originated from a tradition that began in the late Middle Ages and continued in popularity from the 16th to the 17th century.
Orlando is a Christian knight known in French (and later in English) as Roland. The story takes place in the context of the war between Charlemagne's Christian champions and the Saracen army that invaded Europe and is trying to overthrow the Christian empire. The poem is about war, love and the romantic ideal of chivalry. It mixes realism and fantasy, humor and tragedy. The large cast of characters features Christians and Saracens, soldiers and sorcerers and fantastic creatures, including a gigantic sea monster called the Orc and a flying horse called the hippogriff. Many themes are intertwined in its complicated episodic structure, but the most important are paladin Orlando's unrequited love for the pagan princess Angelica, which drives him crazy and the love between the Christian warrior Bradamante and the Saracen Ruggiero, who are supposed to be the ancestors of the patrons of Ariosto, the d'Este de Ferrara family.
Orlando is a Christian knight known in French (and later in English) as Roland. The story takes place in the context of the war between Charlemagne's Christian champions and the Saracen army that invaded Europe and is trying to overthrow the Christian empire. The poem is about war, love and the romantic ideal of chivalry. It mixes realism and fantasy, humor and tragedy. The large cast of characters features Christians and Saracens, soldiers and sorcerers and fantastic creatures, including a gigantic sea monster called the Orc and a flying horse called the hippogriff. Many themes are intertwined in its complicated episodic structure, but the most important are paladin Orlando's unrequited love for the pagan princess Angelica, which drives him crazy and the love between the Christian warrior Bradamante and the Saracen Ruggiero, who are supposed to be the ancestors of the patrons of Ariosto, the d'Este de Ferrara family.
August 1, 2007
Okay, so that was a lie what I briefly had on my profile about Good Reads not having this book listed. I just didn't search well enough.
I have a compulsion to read very long things that are renowned as classic works of literature. It's probably why I'm in the English graduate program.
Anyway, this is Ariosto's sequel to Boiardo, which I just finished the second (of two) volume last night. It's much more graceful than Orlando Innamorata and less obviously comedic. That is, there's pathos here, where there's not much in Boiardo. And it gets finished, admittedly at an odd point, with someone getting stabbed in the head (I presume it's got something to do with the triumph of the Christians over the Pagans playing out on a personal level). It's also very beautiful and very important to understanding where Spenser is coming from with The Faerie Queene, as C.S. Lewis says.
I have a compulsion to read very long things that are renowned as classic works of literature. It's probably why I'm in the English graduate program.
Anyway, this is Ariosto's sequel to Boiardo, which I just finished the second (of two) volume last night. It's much more graceful than Orlando Innamorata and less obviously comedic. That is, there's pathos here, where there's not much in Boiardo. And it gets finished, admittedly at an odd point, with someone getting stabbed in the head (I presume it's got something to do with the triumph of the Christians over the Pagans playing out on a personal level). It's also very beautiful and very important to understanding where Spenser is coming from with The Faerie Queene, as C.S. Lewis says.
November 7, 2012
Written over twenty-seven years, roughly 1300 pages long in my Penguin Classics edition, and full of non-stop adventure, the Orlando Furioso is, with Dante's Divine Comedy and Machiavelli's The Prince, one of the defining texts of the Italian Renaissance. Almost unheard-of these days, the Orlando Furioso was once famous world-wide. It had a great impact on both Renaissance humanist and Reformation Christian literature, and it did not truly fade into obscurity until the late 1800s.
Read the rest of my review at my blog, In Which I Read Vintage Novels
Read the rest of my review at my blog, In Which I Read Vintage Novels
August 24, 2020
J'ai adoré ! Entre chanson de geste et roman de chevalerie, L'Arioste fait souffler un vent de nouveauté sur le genre, qui vit alors ses derniers moments. Un rythme trépidant, des personnages féminins qui se battent comme des hommes (on est en 1516), des monstres et des méchants... ça se lit tout seul.
Avantage supplémentaire pour moi : l'intrigue débute presque immédiatement après la chanson de geste "Aspremont" lue l'hiver dernier.
Avantage supplémentaire pour moi : l'intrigue débute presque immédiatement après la chanson de geste "Aspremont" lue l'hiver dernier.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 53 reviews