Tag Archives: Scribe

Beowulf 2, in which he meets a feminist

A few months ago, I posted my first piece on the ancient poem Beowulf, saying I would have more to say later. I referred to versions of the poem that I had on my shelves, two of which were designed for children. The post featured versions for present-day readers by Seamus Heaney, Rosemary Sutcliff and Michael Morpurgo.

Beowulf is a poem that delights in masculine power and it is a story told by men about men for men. Maria Dahvana Headley suggests that we can look at Beowulf another way. In her novel she gives a name to Beowulf’s second opponent, Grendel’s mother, and tells a modern version of the story, avoiding depicting her as a monster.

Maggie Gee, in an article in The Author reminds us that ‘female monsters and villains have been an avenging presence in myth ever since human story-making began’. Some of them have been half animal and half human. We need them, she suggests, to counter the apologetic behaviour encouraged in women.

On to the page they stride and out across the landscape, laughing maniacally, axes in hand. The tact we try to display in real life is equalled by the dark side of our fictional monsters. [The Author Autumn 2019] 

Her own monster can be found in Blood, published in 2019. 

Maria Dahvana Headley challenges the idea of Grendel’s mother being monstrous. The avenging threat of Grendel’s mother is just that – a mother who has lost her son, ‘carried on a wave of wrath, crazed with sorrow, looking for someone to slay, someone to pay in pain for her heart’s loss’ (l. 1275-7). She is a much more interesting character than the tactful and conforming Willa (a version of Wealhtheow).

At the time of my first post, I was not aware of the Backlisted Podcast on Beowulf, which referred to several versions, and mentioned an upcoming translation by Maria Dahvana Headley and her novel The Mere Wife. Since then (February 2021) I have read both books by Maria Dahvana Headley, attended an on-line event with her, and listened to the podcast.

The Mere Wife by Maria Dahvana Headley

The novel is a feminist telling of part of the Beowulf story, focusing in particular on Grendel’s mother, set in a place and time which is something like present-day America. Dana Mills, a marine, was filmed being executed in a desert war but she somehow manages to return home. She is pregnant and gives birth secretly to Gren, who she sees will be categorised as an enemy to be destroyed. She finds refuge in the caves in the mountain above her former home. They had been part of a railway system, long since abandoned and forgotten. 

Herot Hall has been built over the previous settlement where Dana had been brought up. It is a gated and privileged community run and profited from by the Herot family. Willa Herot has a son and is concerned to keep up appearances for the rest of the community. 

Willa’s son Dylan is intrigued by what he sees out of his window: Gren, Dana’s son. The two boys form a secret friendship, but at her Christmas party Willa finds evidence of Gren, and Dana, watching the party from outside, sees that her son is in danger and tears through the party. The outcome is that Willa’s husband is killed. The tall, blonde, muscular chief of police – Ben Woolf (say his name) – is believed to have killed Dana by drowning her in the mere. In fact, Dana and Gren have retreated to the underground railway station inside the mountain. Later Dylan runs there too and then the hunt is on.

I really liked the way that the author used the details of the original story. The dragon that emerges from the underground lair is here represented by the restored train. The policeman is seen as a hero because he is big and golden and appears to stand between the comfort of the Herot community and danger represented by Dana and Gren. 

We see that those who define others as monsters have power and authority. They include the police, but also the important families, and the press. At play here is the destruction of the history of the US, gender struggles and the damage done by wars. 

The Mere Wife by Maria Dahvana Headley published in 2018 by Scribe. 306pp

Beowulf: a new translation by Maria Dahvana Headley

In this new translation of the poem, Maria Dahvana Headley refutes Tolkien’s suggestion that the language used in its translation must be ‘literary and traditional’. Instead, she brings to it a modern idiom, the boastful, male fraternizing tradition of the ‘dude text’. Here’s the opening.

Bro! Tell me we still know how to speak of kings! In the old days,
everyone knew what men were: brave, glory-bound. Only
stories now, but I’ll sound the Spear-Danes’ song, hoarded for hungry times. (l.1-3)

Compare with Heaney’s translation:

So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by
and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.
We have heard of those princes’ heroic campaigns. (l.1-3)

The original Old English poem begins with the word Hwæt. Listen to the podcast for a discussion of its possible pronunciation and meaning. 

This is how the boastful Beowulf introduces himself to Hrothgar, offering to defend the hall against Grendel. 

I’m the strongest and the boldest, and the bravest and the best.
Yes: I mean – I may have bathed in the blood of beasts,
netted five foul ogres at once, smashed my way into a troll den
and come out swinging, gone skinny-dipping in a sleeping sea
and made sashimi of some sea monsters.
Anyone who fucks with the Geats? Bro, they have to fuck with me.
They’re asking for it, and I deal them death. [l.416- 422]

Beowulf is all male and aggression, like the hero of an action movie or a video game. 

Her introduction on translating the poem and her interest in it, through Grendel’s mother, is a good explanation of the approach she took and the decisions she made for this new version. One of the interesting things about the text of Beowulf is that it seems to be a very adaptable text, and to have relevance to many different times. I have some thoughts about why that might be which I am saving for a future post.

Beowulf by Maria Dahvana Headley published in 2021 by Scribe. 140pp

Relevant Links

Beowulf 1 on Bookword.

The Backlisted Podcast on Beowulf

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Filed under Feminism, Podcast, poetry, translation, words

The Winterlings by Cristina Sanchez-Andrade

Choosing a novel by a woman in translation can be tricky, with so few reviews in newspapers and on blogs. I chose this one for three reasons. It won an award from English Pen who support writing in translation. And it is in Spanish, and I haven’t reviewed a book originally in Spanish for some time. And when it arrived, with two other possibilities, I liked the cover so much that my choice was made.

The story of The Winterlings

It is soon after the end of the war in the 1950s in the Spanish countryside. Two sisters, the Winterlings of the title, reappear in the remote village in which they grew up decades before. They move into their grandfather’s house, bringing a cow, some sheep and chickens and settle into life there. Where have they been? Their grandfather sent them away shortly before he was killed during the Civil War, and they spent time in England, doing domestic work, learning to be seamstresses and going to the cinema. Before their return one of them had briefly been married.

They came past one morning like the thrumming of a hornet, swifter than an instant.

The women.

The Winterlings.

The men bent over the earth straightened up to watch. The women stilled their brooms. The children stopped playing; two women with big, tired bones, as thought worn down by life, were crossing the town square.

Two women followed by four sheep and a cow with swinging gait, pulled a covered wagon filled with provisions and utensils. (3)

Much remains unchanged in the village, but there is a sense that change is on its way. The villagers remember everything. The grandfather had bought the brains of many inhabitants (as a way of putting money in their pocket perhaps), and now they want the ownership of their brains returned and the receipts cancelled. Then news arrives that Eva Gardner is in Spain to make films and one of the sisters goes to be her body double. The other sister has her teeth renewed, but falls ill and gradually dies. The remaining Winterling moves on.

There are so many mysteries in this village, especially concerning the two women. What happened to their grandfather and to the brief husband? What is the dental technician’s source of teeth? He has another secret – he’s a cross dresser. What was the role of their grandfather and the greedy priest during the Civil War? And why does the priest, who is also smelly, go up the mountain every day to read the last rites to a woman who is taking forever to die? How has the return of the Winterlings upset the villagers? What is wrong with the chickens?

The writing of The Winterlings

The novel is written in a naïve style, spare, almost primitive. The author herself says it derives from the oral tradition and many of the stories come from her own experiences or those of her family. Nothing is presented as strange, or with very much explanation or description. It has the air of a fable, of turning back the corner of a peep show. There is not so much a plot as a sense of place, with all its stories.

There is no explanation in the novel for the title, although it is an elision of winter and siblings. The author tells of how she drove past a sign to Las Inviernas and how that road sign sparked the novel’s origins.

You can read what Cristina Sanchez-Andrade says about writing the novel on the English Pen website. Here is the link.

The Winterlings by Cristina Sanchez-Andrade, first published in Spanish as Las Inviernas in 2014, and in English translation by Samuel Rutter in 2016 by Scribe. 249pp. Winner English Pen Award

Women in translation series

Every month I review a book by a woman in translation on this blog. Here are some recent posts with links.

Memoirs of a Polar Bear by Yoko Tawada, translated from the German by Susan Bernofsky.

Dance by the Canal by Kerstin Hensel, translated from the German by Jen Calleja.

Go, Went, Gone by Jenny Erpenbeck, translated from the German by Susan Bernofsky.

Mirror, Shoulder, Signal by Dorthe Nors, translated from the Danish by Misha Hoekstra.

I came across these recent recommendations for 12 essential Spanish language female authors.

Over to you

Do you have any recommendations of novels by women in translation?

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Filed under Books, Women in Translation