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Ανθολογία Επιστημονικής Φαντασίας Ιστορίες των εκδόσεων Ωρόρα #20
Sir Gawain e il Cavaliere Verde
Re Artù è a Camelot per celebrare il Capodanno. Intorno a lui i cavalieri della Tavola Rotonda, «in splendida festa e spensierato piacere». È costume del re ascoltare, prima di dar inizio al pranzo, la «strana storia di qualche avventura». Ed ecco, prima che qualcuno cominci a narrare un racconto meraviglioso, si fa avanti il meraviglioso stesso. È un gigantesco cavaliere, tutto vestito del verde più puro, in mano ha un’ascia «mostruosa ed enorme». Quando parla, è per proporre una sfida che fa tremare. Sarà Sir Gawain, perla dei cavalieri, a raccoglierla.
Sopravvissuto in un solo manoscritto, anonimo, attribuibile alla fine del Trecento, Sir Gawain e il Cavaliere Verde spicca solitario nel Medioevo inglese. In questo poemetto insondabile e fragrante sembrano celebrarsi le nozze fra Bellezza e Significato. Qui, all’interno di un’incantata cornice cortese, fra castelli che paiono ritagliati nella carta, corni di caccia e dame esperte in rischiose schermaglie d’amore, incontriamo una variante assai segreta di un tema ultimo del mito: il rapporto fra l’eroe e il mostro, il Nemico. I cavalieri antichi ben sapevano che vincere il Nemico non significa soltanto affondare una lama in un corpo mostruoso. Ben più intimo, ben più sconcertante e vertiginoso è il rapporto che li lega all’avversario soprannaturale. Allora duello e sacrificio possono sovrapporsi, allora una testa che rotola può diventare non la rovina, ma la salvezza. Allora i colpi mortali possono essere sostituiti da doni, in uno scambio di omaggio fra il mostro e l’eroe. Filtrato dalla mente cavalleresca, questo è il meraviglioso di cui aveva bisogno re Artù per cominciare a mangiare. Il che significa qui: per cominciare a vivere. L’avventura di Sir Gawain offrì ai suoi occhi qualcosa del meraviglioso che dà avvio alla vita, come lo offre a quelli di tutti noi che leggiamo le parole del suo ignoto cantore.
Sopravvissuto in un solo manoscritto, anonimo, attribuibile alla fine del Trecento, Sir Gawain e il Cavaliere Verde spicca solitario nel Medioevo inglese. In questo poemetto insondabile e fragrante sembrano celebrarsi le nozze fra Bellezza e Significato. Qui, all’interno di un’incantata cornice cortese, fra castelli che paiono ritagliati nella carta, corni di caccia e dame esperte in rischiose schermaglie d’amore, incontriamo una variante assai segreta di un tema ultimo del mito: il rapporto fra l’eroe e il mostro, il Nemico. I cavalieri antichi ben sapevano che vincere il Nemico non significa soltanto affondare una lama in un corpo mostruoso. Ben più intimo, ben più sconcertante e vertiginoso è il rapporto che li lega all’avversario soprannaturale. Allora duello e sacrificio possono sovrapporsi, allora una testa che rotola può diventare non la rovina, ma la salvezza. Allora i colpi mortali possono essere sostituiti da doni, in uno scambio di omaggio fra il mostro e l’eroe. Filtrato dalla mente cavalleresca, questo è il meraviglioso di cui aveva bisogno re Artù per cominciare a mangiare. Il che significa qui: per cominciare a vivere. L’avventura di Sir Gawain offrì ai suoi occhi qualcosa del meraviglioso che dà avvio alla vita, come lo offre a quelli di tutti noi che leggiamo le parole del suo ignoto cantore.
189 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1375
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 4,371 reviews
May 19, 2014
Contains the greatest "OH FUCK" moment in medieval literature!
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight - listed here as written by Unknown, though I believe it may have been penned by that prolific Greek author Anonymous - is a classic tale from Arthurian legend in which the code of honor attributed to chivalry is heavily ensconced.
There are many interpretations of the poem's meaning, and historically speaking it's often dependent on the reader's bias. For instance, Christians latched on to the sex aspect and pagans saw a Green Man parallel. Me? I just see it as damn good fun, just as I'll wager the eagerly listening common folk heard it told by their smoky peat fires so many hundreds of years ago.
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight - listed here as written by Unknown, though I believe it may have been penned by that prolific Greek author Anonymous - is a classic tale from Arthurian legend in which the code of honor attributed to chivalry is heavily ensconced.
There are many interpretations of the poem's meaning, and historically speaking it's often dependent on the reader's bias. For instance, Christians latched on to the sex aspect and pagans saw a Green Man parallel. Me? I just see it as damn good fun, just as I'll wager the eagerly listening common folk heard it told by their smoky peat fires so many hundreds of years ago.
January 1, 2026
Sir Gawain of Camelot encounters, in this poem of the late 14th century, a most formidable antagonist – a giant green knight who displays supernatural powers and makes a deadly pact with Gawain at King Arthur’s court one New Year’s Day. And in the process of trying to fulfill that grim bargain, even at the cost of his life, Sir Gawain, as depicted by the unknown poet who composed this work of narrative verse, reveals much regarding the medieval world within which this poem was written.
While scholars of medieval literature have suggested a number of possible authors of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, all that can be said with reasonable certainty is that the unknown poet who composed this poem probably did so sometime between the years 1375 and 1400 – or, to put it another way, in the England of King Richard II or King Henry IV. Interesting to wonder if either of these kings – both of whose reigns were later dramatized by William Shakespeare – might have heard this poem recited at court.
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight begins as King Arthur, his wife Queen Guinevere, and the knights of the Round Table sit down for a New Year’s feast. As it is a feast-day, King Arthur announces that he will not begin to dine until some marvellous event has occurred. And just then, the feast receives an unexpected visitor – an unknown knight of gigantic stature: “A fellow fiercely grim,/And all a glittering green” (p. 26).
It is not just that he is clad in green; his horse is green, and his skin and hair and beard and everything about him are green. Clearly, King Arthur has the marvel that he was seeking.
And the Green Knight, bearing a huge Viking-style battle-axe, has a challenge for the knights of the Round Table:
"I crave in this court a Christmas game,
For it is Yuletide and New Year, and young men abound here.
If any in this household is so hardy in spirit,
Of such mettlesome mind and so madly rash
As to strike a strong blow in return for another,
I shall offer to him this fine axe freely;
This axe, which is heavy enough, to handle as he please.
And I shall bide the first blow, as bare as I sit here….
Then shall I stand up to his stroke, quite still on this floor –
So long as I shall have leave to launch a return blow unchecked." (pp. 31-32)
Many of the Arthurian knights whose names are familiar to readers of Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur – Agravaine and Ywain, Sir Bors and Sir Bedivere and Sir Lionel and even Sir Launcelot – are present at the feast; but of all the knights, the only one willing to take up the challenge is Sir Gawain.
It is worth mentioning here that the Sir Gawain of this poem is quite different from the Gawain of Malory’s epic. In Malory’s work, Gawain is selfish, judgemental, and not unfrequently treacherous – a foil to truer-hearted knights like Launcelot and Gareth. In Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, by contrast, Gawain is brave and humble, always acting with goodwill and out of good intentions. Indeed, Gawain, sitting at Guinevere’s side, seems concerned to protect his queen from the horrifying sight of the Green Knight – and to keep King Arthur from impetuously taking up the challenge himself.
Accepting the Green Knight’s challenge, and binding himself to the grim bargain, Sir Gawain takes up the Norse battle-axe and strikes off the Green Knight’s head. But regular readers of Arthurian romance tales will not be surprised to hear that the story does not end there:
The fair head fell from the neck, struck the floor,
And people spurned it as it rolled around.
Blood spurted from the body, bright against the green.
Yet the fellow did not fall, nor falter one whit,
But stoutly sprang forward on legs still sturdy,
Roughly reached out among the ranks of nobles,
Seized his splendid head and straightway lifted it.
Then he strode to his steed, snatched the bridle,
Stepped into the stirrup and swung aloft,
Holding his head in his hand by the hair.
He settled himself in the saddle as steadily
As if nothing had happened to him, though he had no head. (p. 37)
The feast, I would imagine, goes uneaten. The Green Knight’s disembodied head meanwhile commands that Gawain keep his end of the bargain:
"Be prepared to perform what you promised, Gawain;
Seek faithfully till you find me, my fine fellow,
According to your oath in this hall in these knights’ hearing.
Go to the Green Chapel without gainsaying to get
Such a stroke as you have struck. Strictly you deserve
That due redemption on the day of New Year." (p. 37)
And Sir Gawain, believing that keeping to the bargain will mean his death, nonetheless is true to this word, leaving Camelot the following All Saints’ Day in order to make sure that he will have plenty of time to find the Green Chapel and fulfill his deadly bargain. His journey takes him from one vague and mythic landscape (Camelot) through some recognizably real locations of the border region between northern England and eastern Wales – Holy Head, the isles of Anglesey, the wilds of Wirral – before making his way back into the realm of the mythic.
Eventually, Sir Gawain finds himself at a castle whose lord, Sir Bertilak, offers Gawain a lavish welcome and suitably noble hospitality, saying that “God has given us of his grace good measure/In granting us such a guest as Gawain is” (p. 55). He further informs Gawain that the Green Chapel is just a short distance away – and that Gawain, with three days to spare before his New Year’s appointment, can spend those three days lodging comfortably at Bertilak’s castle.
Yet Sir Bertilak’s castle proves to be the site of further testing of Sir Gawain; for over the course of each of those three days, while Sir Bertilak is out hunting with his noble retainers, Sir Bertilak’s beautiful young wife comes to Sir Gawain’s bedchamber and offers herself to him.
As Sir Gawain struggles to resist this temptation, it is not just that Gawain is a healthy young man being invited to make love with a beautiful young woman who is alluringly dressed in “a ravishing robe that reached to the ground….Her fine-featured face and fair throat were unveiled” (p. 86). It is also that she appeals to him in terms of the conventions of courtly love that were so prevalent within the culture of medieval nobility – to wit, the idea that strong young knights and beautiful young ladies should be able to talk, in private, about matters of love, without that emotional intimacy ever leading to physical intimacy. Spoiler alert: It didn’t always work out that way.
Working from within that context, the Lady tries to tempt Gawain by appealing to his sense of knightly honour, playfully accusing him of “know[ing] nothing of noble conventions”, of being unaware that “the choicest thing in Chivalry, the chief thing praised, is the loyal sport of love” (pp. 77-78). Emphasizing that she is alone and unchaperoned, she states that “You ought to be eager to lay open to a young thing/Your discoveries in the craft of courtly love./What! Are you ignorant, with all your renown?/Or do you deem me too dull to drink in your dalliance?” (p. 78)
Truly, this temptation is multi-dimensional. If you were a real knight, you would love me. Do you even know what you’re doing as a knight? Or is it that you don’t think I’m pretty enough, or smart enough, to be worth your time?
And it creates a real moral dilemma for Gawain. On the one hand, he cannot simply reject her with harsh words; doing so would break the chivalrous code of courtly love. It would be “blackguardly”, and “his upbringing forbade him to rebuff her utterly” (pp. 83, 87). But on the other hand, if he were to succumb to her blandishments, then he would “plunge into sin,/And dishonour the owner of the house treacherously” (p. 87). For all of these reasons, the passages dealing with Gawain and the Lady are alive with sexual tension.
And as if the temptation of forbidden sensual delights is not enough, Sir Gawain faces one final test when New Year’s Day arrives and he is on his way to the Green Chapel, to face what he thinks is certain death at the hands of the Green Knight. Sir Bertilak’s servant, appointed to guide Gawain to the Green Chapel, instead emphasizes the Green Knight’s murderous cruelty, and encourages Gawain to flee:
“Therefore, good Sir Gawain, leave the grim man alone!
Ride by another route, to some region remote!
Go in the name of God, and Christ grace your fortune!
And I shall go home again and undertake
To swear solemnly by God and His saints as well…
Stoutly to keep your secret, not saying to a soul
That ever you tried to turn tail from any man I knew.” (p. 100)
Sir Gawain, “somewhat galled” at the suggestion, nonetheless replies courteously, telling the servant that “if I quit this place,/Fled from the fellow in the fashion you propose,/I should become a cowardly knight with no excuse whatever,/For I will go to the Green Chapel, to get what Fate sends” (p. 100). And thus the stage is set for Gawain’s final confrontation with the Green Knight – a Green Chapel visit that unveils a number of surprises, and that invokes familiar Arthurian characters like Merlin and Morgan le Fay.
Translator Brian Stone, a drama scholar at Great Britain’s Open University, includes with this Penguin Books edition of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight not only a helpful introduction but also six (!) critical essays that enhance the reader’s understanding of the poem, and of the world within which the poem was composed. I was struck, for example, by Stone’s suggestion that the Green Knight, with his non-human qualities, “wants and apparently needs…to bask in the light of a human virtue which he cannot himself have” (p. 125).
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, a New Year’s tale, takes place at a time of endings and beginnings, and emphasizes the importance of remaining true to one’s principles, even when one may think that all hope is lost. Considering how tough Gawain is on himself for the few times that he fails in even a small way, I find myself thinking that it is a particularly propitious book to read at a time of year when so many of us find ourselves looking back at our failings from the previous year, and resolving to do better in the New Year to come.
While scholars of medieval literature have suggested a number of possible authors of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, all that can be said with reasonable certainty is that the unknown poet who composed this poem probably did so sometime between the years 1375 and 1400 – or, to put it another way, in the England of King Richard II or King Henry IV. Interesting to wonder if either of these kings – both of whose reigns were later dramatized by William Shakespeare – might have heard this poem recited at court.
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight begins as King Arthur, his wife Queen Guinevere, and the knights of the Round Table sit down for a New Year’s feast. As it is a feast-day, King Arthur announces that he will not begin to dine until some marvellous event has occurred. And just then, the feast receives an unexpected visitor – an unknown knight of gigantic stature: “A fellow fiercely grim,/And all a glittering green” (p. 26).
It is not just that he is clad in green; his horse is green, and his skin and hair and beard and everything about him are green. Clearly, King Arthur has the marvel that he was seeking.
And the Green Knight, bearing a huge Viking-style battle-axe, has a challenge for the knights of the Round Table:
"I crave in this court a Christmas game,
For it is Yuletide and New Year, and young men abound here.
If any in this household is so hardy in spirit,
Of such mettlesome mind and so madly rash
As to strike a strong blow in return for another,
I shall offer to him this fine axe freely;
This axe, which is heavy enough, to handle as he please.
And I shall bide the first blow, as bare as I sit here….
Then shall I stand up to his stroke, quite still on this floor –
So long as I shall have leave to launch a return blow unchecked." (pp. 31-32)
Many of the Arthurian knights whose names are familiar to readers of Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur – Agravaine and Ywain, Sir Bors and Sir Bedivere and Sir Lionel and even Sir Launcelot – are present at the feast; but of all the knights, the only one willing to take up the challenge is Sir Gawain.
It is worth mentioning here that the Sir Gawain of this poem is quite different from the Gawain of Malory’s epic. In Malory’s work, Gawain is selfish, judgemental, and not unfrequently treacherous – a foil to truer-hearted knights like Launcelot and Gareth. In Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, by contrast, Gawain is brave and humble, always acting with goodwill and out of good intentions. Indeed, Gawain, sitting at Guinevere’s side, seems concerned to protect his queen from the horrifying sight of the Green Knight – and to keep King Arthur from impetuously taking up the challenge himself.
Accepting the Green Knight’s challenge, and binding himself to the grim bargain, Sir Gawain takes up the Norse battle-axe and strikes off the Green Knight’s head. But regular readers of Arthurian romance tales will not be surprised to hear that the story does not end there:
The fair head fell from the neck, struck the floor,
And people spurned it as it rolled around.
Blood spurted from the body, bright against the green.
Yet the fellow did not fall, nor falter one whit,
But stoutly sprang forward on legs still sturdy,
Roughly reached out among the ranks of nobles,
Seized his splendid head and straightway lifted it.
Then he strode to his steed, snatched the bridle,
Stepped into the stirrup and swung aloft,
Holding his head in his hand by the hair.
He settled himself in the saddle as steadily
As if nothing had happened to him, though he had no head. (p. 37)
The feast, I would imagine, goes uneaten. The Green Knight’s disembodied head meanwhile commands that Gawain keep his end of the bargain:
"Be prepared to perform what you promised, Gawain;
Seek faithfully till you find me, my fine fellow,
According to your oath in this hall in these knights’ hearing.
Go to the Green Chapel without gainsaying to get
Such a stroke as you have struck. Strictly you deserve
That due redemption on the day of New Year." (p. 37)
And Sir Gawain, believing that keeping to the bargain will mean his death, nonetheless is true to this word, leaving Camelot the following All Saints’ Day in order to make sure that he will have plenty of time to find the Green Chapel and fulfill his deadly bargain. His journey takes him from one vague and mythic landscape (Camelot) through some recognizably real locations of the border region between northern England and eastern Wales – Holy Head, the isles of Anglesey, the wilds of Wirral – before making his way back into the realm of the mythic.
Eventually, Sir Gawain finds himself at a castle whose lord, Sir Bertilak, offers Gawain a lavish welcome and suitably noble hospitality, saying that “God has given us of his grace good measure/In granting us such a guest as Gawain is” (p. 55). He further informs Gawain that the Green Chapel is just a short distance away – and that Gawain, with three days to spare before his New Year’s appointment, can spend those three days lodging comfortably at Bertilak’s castle.
Yet Sir Bertilak’s castle proves to be the site of further testing of Sir Gawain; for over the course of each of those three days, while Sir Bertilak is out hunting with his noble retainers, Sir Bertilak’s beautiful young wife comes to Sir Gawain’s bedchamber and offers herself to him.
As Sir Gawain struggles to resist this temptation, it is not just that Gawain is a healthy young man being invited to make love with a beautiful young woman who is alluringly dressed in “a ravishing robe that reached to the ground….Her fine-featured face and fair throat were unveiled” (p. 86). It is also that she appeals to him in terms of the conventions of courtly love that were so prevalent within the culture of medieval nobility – to wit, the idea that strong young knights and beautiful young ladies should be able to talk, in private, about matters of love, without that emotional intimacy ever leading to physical intimacy. Spoiler alert: It didn’t always work out that way.
Working from within that context, the Lady tries to tempt Gawain by appealing to his sense of knightly honour, playfully accusing him of “know[ing] nothing of noble conventions”, of being unaware that “the choicest thing in Chivalry, the chief thing praised, is the loyal sport of love” (pp. 77-78). Emphasizing that she is alone and unchaperoned, she states that “You ought to be eager to lay open to a young thing/Your discoveries in the craft of courtly love./What! Are you ignorant, with all your renown?/Or do you deem me too dull to drink in your dalliance?” (p. 78)
Truly, this temptation is multi-dimensional. If you were a real knight, you would love me. Do you even know what you’re doing as a knight? Or is it that you don’t think I’m pretty enough, or smart enough, to be worth your time?
And it creates a real moral dilemma for Gawain. On the one hand, he cannot simply reject her with harsh words; doing so would break the chivalrous code of courtly love. It would be “blackguardly”, and “his upbringing forbade him to rebuff her utterly” (pp. 83, 87). But on the other hand, if he were to succumb to her blandishments, then he would “plunge into sin,/And dishonour the owner of the house treacherously” (p. 87). For all of these reasons, the passages dealing with Gawain and the Lady are alive with sexual tension.
And as if the temptation of forbidden sensual delights is not enough, Sir Gawain faces one final test when New Year’s Day arrives and he is on his way to the Green Chapel, to face what he thinks is certain death at the hands of the Green Knight. Sir Bertilak’s servant, appointed to guide Gawain to the Green Chapel, instead emphasizes the Green Knight’s murderous cruelty, and encourages Gawain to flee:
“Therefore, good Sir Gawain, leave the grim man alone!
Ride by another route, to some region remote!
Go in the name of God, and Christ grace your fortune!
And I shall go home again and undertake
To swear solemnly by God and His saints as well…
Stoutly to keep your secret, not saying to a soul
That ever you tried to turn tail from any man I knew.” (p. 100)
Sir Gawain, “somewhat galled” at the suggestion, nonetheless replies courteously, telling the servant that “if I quit this place,/Fled from the fellow in the fashion you propose,/I should become a cowardly knight with no excuse whatever,/For I will go to the Green Chapel, to get what Fate sends” (p. 100). And thus the stage is set for Gawain’s final confrontation with the Green Knight – a Green Chapel visit that unveils a number of surprises, and that invokes familiar Arthurian characters like Merlin and Morgan le Fay.
Translator Brian Stone, a drama scholar at Great Britain’s Open University, includes with this Penguin Books edition of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight not only a helpful introduction but also six (!) critical essays that enhance the reader’s understanding of the poem, and of the world within which the poem was composed. I was struck, for example, by Stone’s suggestion that the Green Knight, with his non-human qualities, “wants and apparently needs…to bask in the light of a human virtue which he cannot himself have” (p. 125).
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, a New Year’s tale, takes place at a time of endings and beginnings, and emphasizes the importance of remaining true to one’s principles, even when one may think that all hope is lost. Considering how tough Gawain is on himself for the few times that he fails in even a small way, I find myself thinking that it is a particularly propitious book to read at a time of year when so many of us find ourselves looking back at our failings from the previous year, and resolving to do better in the New Year to come.
January 3, 2016
Enchanting translation that made me love words again. The cadence and rhythm Armitage employed gave life to the modern English rather than direct translation. The Introduction laid out precisely what he would do and why he made the choice he did--to preserve the beauty of the poetry, both the alliterative Anglo-Saxon and the breakout stanzas of continental rhyming.
And I fell in love with language again. I found myself speaking aloud or mouthing them to feel the words tumbling out. For that joy, I am grateful again. As a selection for my Yuletide reading, I was most fortunate.
The tale itself is quite simple, but filled with so many tidbits. It is a heroic story as Sir Gawain is tested. The similarities between the Green Knight and the Green Man mythology was one of the most interesting to me. But, the amalgamation of Christianity and pagan beliefs is fascinating. I'm going to ignore the misogynistic aspects of Christianity and women as the downfall of man when it is clearly their own decisions at play or here specifically, at the behest of another-- Yes, please continue to abdicate personal responsibility. Thus, I found the judgment at the end interesting.
Sir Gawain got off lightly, and I concur with his interpretation of his actions over those of the Knights of the Round Table. The poem itself might be only a four star read, but how it made me feel bumps this to five stars, easily.
And I fell in love with language again. I found myself speaking aloud or mouthing them to feel the words tumbling out. For that joy, I am grateful again. As a selection for my Yuletide reading, I was most fortunate.
The tale itself is quite simple, but filled with so many tidbits. It is a heroic story as Sir Gawain is tested. The similarities between the Green Knight and the Green Man mythology was one of the most interesting to me. But, the amalgamation of Christianity and pagan beliefs is fascinating. I'm going to ignore the misogynistic aspects of Christianity and women as the downfall of man when it is clearly their own decisions at play or here specifically, at the behest of another-- Yes, please continue to abdicate personal responsibility. Thus, I found the judgment at the end interesting.
Sir Gawain got off lightly, and I concur with his interpretation of his actions over those of the Knights of the Round Table. The poem itself might be only a four star read, but how it made me feel bumps this to five stars, easily.
January 25, 2019
Simon Armitage translation (Faber & Faber / Norton), and the Oxford edition's notes
I'd half forgotten about Gawain and the Green Knight - and I'd definitely forgotten it was set over Christmas and New Year, until I heard this mid-December episode of In Our Time. As I thought during the programme how bored I now was of Simon Armitage - he's become a very regular fixture on BBC arts shows in the last few years - I didn't expect to end up reading his translation of Gawain. But I looked at a couple of others and they seemed too formal and RP. The poem's northernness (or perhaps more precisely north-west-midlandness) is one of the most distinctive things about it, and is what makes it different from other 14th-century English works like The Canterbury Tales or Piers Plowman, and I wanted that to be evident in the translation. Although the beginning of Armitage version didn't have as many dialect words as I'd hoped (nor did it in the full poem), you can hear an accent in it if you're looking, the way you can't in the Penguin or Oxford translations.
However, he says about the translation, "the often-quoted notion that a poem can never be finished, only abandoned, has never felt more true. Even now, further permutations and possibilities keep suggesting themselves, as if the tweaking and fine-tuning could last a lifetime" - and a new revised edition was published in October 2018, so there may even be more dialect in it now.
And - its other great advantage I only fully realised after starting to read it properly - Armitage's version uses alliteration like the original, rather than blank verse or a rhymed meter. One edition's introduction explains that Germanic languages frequently use alliteration as a poetic device, whereas romance languages use rhyme. I love alliteration, but it's kind of uncool: done to excess (and excess is easy to do with alliteration) it can seem like the dad-dancing of English wordplay. (Is that anything to do with its being an older, pre-Norman component of the language?) It was perhaps my favourite aspect of Armitage's Gawain, seeing, for the first time, alliteration used in such quantity and so well, and utterly *allowed*, and never once with a need to cringe.
On the appearance of the Green Knight at Camelot:
The guests looked on. They gaped and they gawked
and were mute with amazement: what did it mean
that human and horse could develop this hue,
should grow to be grass-green or greener still,
like green enamel emboldened by bright gold?
Some stood and stared then stepped a little closer,
drawn near to the knight to know his next move;
Gawain's adventures on the journey northwards in winter:
Where he bridges a brook or wades through a waterway
ill fortune brings him face-to-face with a foe
so foul or fierce he is bound to use force.
So momentous are his travels among the mountains
to tell just a tenth would be a tall order.
Here he scraps with serpents and snarling wolves,
here he tangles with wodwos causing trouble in the crags,
or with bulls and bears and the odd wild boar.
Hard on his heels through the highlands come giants.
Only diligence and faith in the face of death
will keep him from becoming a corpse or carrion.
It brings home how bloody cold a medieval winter felt, with so many fewer hopes of getting warm than we have.
And the wars were one thing, but winter was worse:
clouds shed their cargo of crystallized rain
which froze as it fell to the frost-glazed earth.
With nerves frozen numb he napped in his armour,…
So in peril and pain Sir Gawain made progress,
crisscrossing the countryside until Christmas
Eve…
---
Now night passes and New Year draws near,
drawing off darkness as our Deity decrees.
But wild-looking weather was about in the world:
clouds decanted their cold rain earthwards;
the nithering north needled man’s very nature;
creatures were scattered by the stinging sleet.
Then a whip-cracking wind comes whistling between hills
driving snow into deepening drifts in the dales.
It's clear how exhausting a journey through this was, with rest and recuperation much needed, and no shame in the knight lying abed while the lord went out hunting.
“You were weary and worn,
hollow with hunger, harrowed by tiredness,
yet you joined in my revelling right royally every night.
What a contrast Christmas was with the rest of winter under these conditions:
And with meals and mirth and minstrelsy
they made as much amusement as any mortal could,
and among those merry men and laughing ladies
Gawain and his host got giddy together;
only lunatics and drunkards could have looked more delirious.
Every person present performed party pieces
till the hour arrived when revellers must rest,
(Which may have been later than you'd think; A Tudor Christmas, which I read a couple of weeks earlier, stated that in 1494, Henry VII processed at 11pm after mass on Twelfth Night.)
As with all good long poems, there are a handful of lines that don't work, but those that do outweigh those that don't sufficiently to make the off-notes negligible.
Needless to say, all this left me with renewed respect for Armitage, and I enjoyed watching this documentary in which he visited the likely locations the Gawain-poet thought of as he was writing. Lud's Church in North Staffordshire, the probable site of the Green Chapel, really did look like somewhere a high-fantasy film hero would fight a pivotal battle with a monster (or maybe they just filmed it well to make it look that way). If you also remember Armitage from the 90s Mark Radcliffe Radio 1 show, you will probably enjoy the soundtrack too.
Armitage's edition has a short - and interesting - intro, but if you want the best historical background info, the Oxford edition is the place to look, at Helen Cooper's introduction and notes. (The Penguin Bernard O'Donoghue version doesn't have nearly as much.) Info like this was exciting (to me at least) after having heard several briefer, less detailed histories of the text:
the precise detail of this location may however represent the origin of the scribe who copied the poems into the manuscript rather than of the poet himself, who certainly came from the same region but may not be possible to locate with quite the same degree of exactness.
The Wirral was notorious as a refuge for outlaws though the comment here on the wildness of its inhabitants could also be a joke against the poem's first readers since Gawain is travelling into their own home territory. This is, however, the dangerous past, not the familiar present. (So the Liverpool jokes have an ancient history…)
Other highlights included various estimates of when wild boar became hunted to extinction in England; the ranked, and also gendered, classification of hunted beasts; when carpets were probably introduced by Eleanor of Castile; mini-biographies of candidates for the authorship and dedication; the influential coterie of Cheshiremen around Richard II in the 1390s; and that Gawain was part of an Alliterative Revival in poetry, all known works written "in the north or west of England or in southern Scotland".
For a long time I was not all that interested in reading Gawain because I'd never found chivalric culture very interesting and couldn't help but imagine it taking place in the sanitised scenes of Victorian Gothic revival paintings, even though they were obviously hundreds of years later. Not only did I enjoy the alliteration and the descriptions of the winter weather and its effects in the poem, but it helped me start to see chivalry in a different context: grittier, for want of a better word, and part of what seems to have been a confusing, demanding and perhaps sometimes contradictory set of social standards for medieval nobility which I'd actually like to know a bit more about (but paper-length rather than book-length).
The only reason for giving 4 stars rather than 5 is the known fault with the original, that the purported plot by Morgan Le Fay, as explanation for events, is unconvincing. Otherwise, the poem ends with a beautiful and unexpectedly moving final line, as if it were a prayer; although the story is playful and mythical, this reminds the reader of the religion at the heart of medieval life.
(read Dec 2018, review Jan 2019)
I'd half forgotten about Gawain and the Green Knight - and I'd definitely forgotten it was set over Christmas and New Year, until I heard this mid-December episode of In Our Time. As I thought during the programme how bored I now was of Simon Armitage - he's become a very regular fixture on BBC arts shows in the last few years - I didn't expect to end up reading his translation of Gawain. But I looked at a couple of others and they seemed too formal and RP. The poem's northernness (or perhaps more precisely north-west-midlandness) is one of the most distinctive things about it, and is what makes it different from other 14th-century English works like The Canterbury Tales or Piers Plowman, and I wanted that to be evident in the translation. Although the beginning of Armitage version didn't have as many dialect words as I'd hoped (nor did it in the full poem), you can hear an accent in it if you're looking, the way you can't in the Penguin or Oxford translations.
However, he says about the translation, "the often-quoted notion that a poem can never be finished, only abandoned, has never felt more true. Even now, further permutations and possibilities keep suggesting themselves, as if the tweaking and fine-tuning could last a lifetime" - and a new revised edition was published in October 2018, so there may even be more dialect in it now.
And - its other great advantage I only fully realised after starting to read it properly - Armitage's version uses alliteration like the original, rather than blank verse or a rhymed meter. One edition's introduction explains that Germanic languages frequently use alliteration as a poetic device, whereas romance languages use rhyme. I love alliteration, but it's kind of uncool: done to excess (and excess is easy to do with alliteration) it can seem like the dad-dancing of English wordplay. (Is that anything to do with its being an older, pre-Norman component of the language?) It was perhaps my favourite aspect of Armitage's Gawain, seeing, for the first time, alliteration used in such quantity and so well, and utterly *allowed*, and never once with a need to cringe.
On the appearance of the Green Knight at Camelot:
The guests looked on. They gaped and they gawked
and were mute with amazement: what did it mean
that human and horse could develop this hue,
should grow to be grass-green or greener still,
like green enamel emboldened by bright gold?
Some stood and stared then stepped a little closer,
drawn near to the knight to know his next move;
Gawain's adventures on the journey northwards in winter:
Where he bridges a brook or wades through a waterway
ill fortune brings him face-to-face with a foe
so foul or fierce he is bound to use force.
So momentous are his travels among the mountains
to tell just a tenth would be a tall order.
Here he scraps with serpents and snarling wolves,
here he tangles with wodwos causing trouble in the crags,
or with bulls and bears and the odd wild boar.
Hard on his heels through the highlands come giants.
Only diligence and faith in the face of death
will keep him from becoming a corpse or carrion.
It brings home how bloody cold a medieval winter felt, with so many fewer hopes of getting warm than we have.
And the wars were one thing, but winter was worse:
clouds shed their cargo of crystallized rain
which froze as it fell to the frost-glazed earth.
With nerves frozen numb he napped in his armour,…
So in peril and pain Sir Gawain made progress,
crisscrossing the countryside until Christmas
Eve…
---
Now night passes and New Year draws near,
drawing off darkness as our Deity decrees.
But wild-looking weather was about in the world:
clouds decanted their cold rain earthwards;
the nithering north needled man’s very nature;
creatures were scattered by the stinging sleet.
Then a whip-cracking wind comes whistling between hills
driving snow into deepening drifts in the dales.
It's clear how exhausting a journey through this was, with rest and recuperation much needed, and no shame in the knight lying abed while the lord went out hunting.
“You were weary and worn,
hollow with hunger, harrowed by tiredness,
yet you joined in my revelling right royally every night.
What a contrast Christmas was with the rest of winter under these conditions:
And with meals and mirth and minstrelsy
they made as much amusement as any mortal could,
and among those merry men and laughing ladies
Gawain and his host got giddy together;
only lunatics and drunkards could have looked more delirious.
Every person present performed party pieces
till the hour arrived when revellers must rest,
(Which may have been later than you'd think; A Tudor Christmas, which I read a couple of weeks earlier, stated that in 1494, Henry VII processed at 11pm after mass on Twelfth Night.)
As with all good long poems, there are a handful of lines that don't work, but those that do outweigh those that don't sufficiently to make the off-notes negligible.
Needless to say, all this left me with renewed respect for Armitage, and I enjoyed watching this documentary in which he visited the likely locations the Gawain-poet thought of as he was writing. Lud's Church in North Staffordshire, the probable site of the Green Chapel, really did look like somewhere a high-fantasy film hero would fight a pivotal battle with a monster (or maybe they just filmed it well to make it look that way). If you also remember Armitage from the 90s Mark Radcliffe Radio 1 show, you will probably enjoy the soundtrack too.
Armitage's edition has a short - and interesting - intro, but if you want the best historical background info, the Oxford edition is the place to look, at Helen Cooper's introduction and notes. (The Penguin Bernard O'Donoghue version doesn't have nearly as much.) Info like this was exciting (to me at least) after having heard several briefer, less detailed histories of the text:
the precise detail of this location may however represent the origin of the scribe who copied the poems into the manuscript rather than of the poet himself, who certainly came from the same region but may not be possible to locate with quite the same degree of exactness.
The Wirral was notorious as a refuge for outlaws though the comment here on the wildness of its inhabitants could also be a joke against the poem's first readers since Gawain is travelling into their own home territory. This is, however, the dangerous past, not the familiar present. (So the Liverpool jokes have an ancient history…)
Other highlights included various estimates of when wild boar became hunted to extinction in England; the ranked, and also gendered, classification of hunted beasts; when carpets were probably introduced by Eleanor of Castile; mini-biographies of candidates for the authorship and dedication; the influential coterie of Cheshiremen around Richard II in the 1390s; and that Gawain was part of an Alliterative Revival in poetry, all known works written "in the north or west of England or in southern Scotland".
For a long time I was not all that interested in reading Gawain because I'd never found chivalric culture very interesting and couldn't help but imagine it taking place in the sanitised scenes of Victorian Gothic revival paintings, even though they were obviously hundreds of years later. Not only did I enjoy the alliteration and the descriptions of the winter weather and its effects in the poem, but it helped me start to see chivalry in a different context: grittier, for want of a better word, and part of what seems to have been a confusing, demanding and perhaps sometimes contradictory set of social standards for medieval nobility which I'd actually like to know a bit more about (but paper-length rather than book-length).
The only reason for giving 4 stars rather than 5 is the known fault with the original, that the purported plot by Morgan Le Fay, as explanation for events, is unconvincing. Otherwise, the poem ends with a beautiful and unexpectedly moving final line, as if it were a prayer; although the story is playful and mythical, this reminds the reader of the religion at the heart of medieval life.
(read Dec 2018, review Jan 2019)
Read
October 13, 2020The season if not of mellow fruitfulness than of frost and fog brings this back to me with the childhood memory of going to school in a proper pea souper, every familiar landmark lost, only the tarmac footpath remained solid beneath my childish feet, occasionally a hut would burst out of the milkiness to demonstrate that I was making progress. My little quest however did not take a year and a day, as all self respecting quests must.
Alas the language is beyond me, I am comfortable with Chaucer (though I suspect that's just the false friends fooling me), and I found Langland, with concentration, manageable, but this dialect of English, roughly contemporary to the other two a bit too much, maybe if I knew some Norse or Danish, or had been born and raised in that country where it had been written rather than close to the dark waters of the Thames I would find it easier. But this edition does have a fine cover illustration which takes you to the heart of the matter.
If you don't know it all, then it is a medieval English poem dealing with a knight of King Arthur's court, who gets into a beheading game with a wandering Green knight and in order to take his turn at being beheaded Sir Gawain must first find the aforementioned Green knight, so the entire story is about being lost in the fog - a mysterious antagonist cannot be found, playing a game of which you don't know all the rules, mysterious temptations (as illustrated by the front cover), is the hero going to die, what does it all mean? Lost in the fog, wandering, but you reach the destination all the same.
I thoroughly enjoyed the Simon Armitage translation if the gentle reader is curious enough.
bonus fun
Alas the language is beyond me, I am comfortable with Chaucer (though I suspect that's just the false friends fooling me), and I found Langland, with concentration, manageable, but this dialect of English, roughly contemporary to the other two a bit too much, maybe if I knew some Norse or Danish, or had been born and raised in that country where it had been written rather than close to the dark waters of the Thames I would find it easier. But this edition does have a fine cover illustration which takes you to the heart of the matter.
If you don't know it all, then it is a medieval English poem dealing with a knight of King Arthur's court, who gets into a beheading game with a wandering Green knight and in order to take his turn at being beheaded Sir Gawain must first find the aforementioned Green knight, so the entire story is about being lost in the fog - a mysterious antagonist cannot be found, playing a game of which you don't know all the rules, mysterious temptations (as illustrated by the front cover), is the hero going to die, what does it all mean? Lost in the fog, wandering, but you reach the destination all the same.
I thoroughly enjoyed the Simon Armitage translation if the gentle reader is curious enough.
bonus fun
October 14, 2017
I actually can't believe how much I loved this! I was looking forward to it, but something about it just enchanted me entirely.
February 3, 2025
A foundational legend that has influenced many other works. One of the best examinations of what chivalry was meant to represent...and for that reason a very important work. One has to marvel at the time and effort that was spent pursuing knighthood; one wonders what Europe would look like if this group had not shaped sociopolitical issues associated with the formation of nations.
Read
October 23, 2019One thing I wasn't expecting in this was such beautifully clear descriptions of landscapes. Perspectives on the bleak winterscapes undulate, moving from terrifying cold to almost beautiful mists. It's really *Sublime*.
One of my favourite lines:
"So the year passes on through its series of yesterdays".
One of my favourite lines:
"So the year passes on through its series of yesterdays".
November 27, 2017
Rating: 5* of five
This is the book to get your poetry-resistant friend this #Booksgiving 2017. I read it on a dare. I don't like poetry very much, it's so snooty and at the same time so pit-sniffingly self-absorbed that I'd far rather stab my hands with a fork repeatedly than be condescended to in rhyming couplets.
This tale is fabulous in every sense of the word, which is no surprise since it's survived for so many centuries. But poet and translator Simon Armitage has made the old world new again. He sucked me right in and never let me come up for air with his gorgeous words and his carefully chosen words and his alliterative rhythmical phrases.
If the idea of a Norton Critical Edition is keeping you far away from this delightful read, rest assured it's not stodgy or dry or just plain boring. It's vibrant, alive, shimmering with an inner power, waiting for you to open its covers and fall utterly under its spell. Become happily ensorcelled, gentle reader, relax into the sure and strong embrace of a centuries-old knight and his spectacular tale.
This is the book to get your poetry-resistant friend this #Booksgiving 2017. I read it on a dare. I don't like poetry very much, it's so snooty and at the same time so pit-sniffingly self-absorbed that I'd far rather stab my hands with a fork repeatedly than be condescended to in rhyming couplets.
This tale is fabulous in every sense of the word, which is no surprise since it's survived for so many centuries. But poet and translator Simon Armitage has made the old world new again. He sucked me right in and never let me come up for air with his gorgeous words and his carefully chosen words and his alliterative rhythmical phrases.
If the idea of a Norton Critical Edition is keeping you far away from this delightful read, rest assured it's not stodgy or dry or just plain boring. It's vibrant, alive, shimmering with an inner power, waiting for you to open its covers and fall utterly under its spell. Become happily ensorcelled, gentle reader, relax into the sure and strong embrace of a centuries-old knight and his spectacular tale.
November 21, 2023
145th book of 2023.
Goodreads didn't like me trying to distinguish the translations of this. Firstly, I read Armitage's translation. A few days ago I finished the Burrow edited, but not translated, version of the poem. I found it difficult to get a hold of a copy of the poem that isn't translated into modern English, so the copy I did eventually find in the basement of a library was ugly-covered, but just what I wanted. The edits to the text are merely standardisations of letters. Otherwise, it's original. As a comparison to the original text and Armitage's translation I have chosen one of the passages in which the Green Knight and his steed are described.
126th book of 2023.
This is a wonderful, poetic and lively translation by Armitage. I know the story well enough, so I was really reading for the translation and the poetic licenses. Well worth it. Even just the journeying parts of the poem are written beautifully. I've got a few other translations kicking about that I'll read soon and then return here to compare them. This is an excellent place to start.
Goodreads didn't like me trying to distinguish the translations of this. Firstly, I read Armitage's translation. A few days ago I finished the Burrow edited, but not translated, version of the poem. I found it difficult to get a hold of a copy of the poem that isn't translated into modern English, so the copy I did eventually find in the basement of a library was ugly-covered, but just what I wanted. The edits to the text are merely standardisations of letters. Otherwise, it's original. As a comparison to the original text and Armitage's translation I have chosen one of the passages in which the Green Knight and his steed are described.
And all graythed in grene this gome and his wedes:
A strayt cote ful streght that stek on his sides,
A mery mantyle above, mensked withinne
With pelure pured apert, the pane ful clene
With blithe blaunner ful bryght, and his hode both,
That was laght fro his lokkes and layd on his schulderes,
Heme wel-haled hose of that same grene
That spend on his sparlyr, and clene spures under
Of bryght gold upon silk bordes barred ful rich,
And scholes under schankes there the schalk rides;
And all his vesture verayly was clene verdure,
Both the barres of his belt and the blithe stones
That were richly rayled in his aray clene,
Aboute himself and his sadel upon silk werkes.
That were to tor for to telle of trifles the halve
That were enbrawded above with bryddes and flyes,
With gay gaudi of grene, the gold ay inmyddes.
The pendauntes of his payttrure, the proud cropure,
His molaynes and all the metail anamayld was then,
The stiropes that he stode on stayned of the same,
And his arsouns all after and his athel skyrtes,
That ever glemered and glent all of the grene stones.
The fole that he ferkes on fyne of that ilk,
Sertayn,
A grene horse grete and thik,
A stede ful stuf to strayne,
In brayden brydel quik,
To the gome he was ful gayn.
-
And his gear and garments were green as well:
a tight-fitting tunic, tailored to his torso,
and a cloak to cover him, the cloth fully lined
with smoothly shorn fur clearly showing, and faced
with all-white ermine, as was the hood,
worn shawled on his shoulders, shucked from his head.
On his lower limbs his leggings were also green,
wrapped closely round his calves, and his sparkling spurs
were green-gold, strapped with stripy silk,
and were set on his stockings, for this stranger was shoeless.
In all vestments he revealed himself veritably verdant!
From his belt-hooks and buckle to the baubles and gems
arrayed so richly around his costume
and adorning the saddle, stitched onto silk.
All the details of his dress are difficult to describe,
embroidered as it was with butterflies and birds,
green beads emblazoned on a background of gold.
All the horses's tack - harness-strap, hind-strap,
the eye of the bit, each alloy and enamel
and the stirrups he stood in - were similarly tinted,
and the same with the cantle and skirts of the saddle,
all glimmering and glinting with the greenest jewels.
And the horse: every hair was green, from hoof
to mane.
A steed of pure green stock.
Each snort and shudder strained
the hand-stitched bridle, but
his rider had him reined.
126th book of 2023.
This is a wonderful, poetic and lively translation by Armitage. I know the story well enough, so I was really reading for the translation and the poetic licenses. Well worth it. Even just the journeying parts of the poem are written beautifully. I've got a few other translations kicking about that I'll read soon and then return here to compare them. This is an excellent place to start.
September 15, 2023
From the moment the hulking Green Knight rides into King Arthur’s Christmas banquet hall, axe in one hand, holly bough in the other, this tale has an eldritch, fey feeling — a haunting sense of otherworldliness. That haunted atmosphere is perfectly captured in Simon Armitage’s brilliant translation (from the original Middle English) of this late 14th century English poem. Armitage’s beautiful, descriptive poetry weaves a trance-like spell around this weird wonder tale that is far more powerful and evocative than the scholarly Tolkien translation that I read some forty years ago.
As for the tale, you could analyze it, attempt to delve its meaning and moral to its original 14th century audience. You could try to unweave its separate elements — Christian mythology, Welsh, Irish, and English folktales, pagan roots, French chivalric tradition. You could break it down using a modern feminist perspective, critiquing the trope of woman as temptress and the conniving Morgan le Fay as femme fatale villain. Or, like me, you could immerse yourself in this wonderfully weird and strange tale of quests, magic and illusion.
As for the tale, you could analyze it, attempt to delve its meaning and moral to its original 14th century audience. You could try to unweave its separate elements — Christian mythology, Welsh, Irish, and English folktales, pagan roots, French chivalric tradition. You could break it down using a modern feminist perspective, critiquing the trope of woman as temptress and the conniving Morgan le Fay as femme fatale villain. Or, like me, you could immerse yourself in this wonderfully weird and strange tale of quests, magic and illusion.
August 19, 2021
I suppose I have a weakness for medieval literature. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, as one of the earliest surviving works of English literature, is also a prime example of the virtues that the knights of King Arthur’s Round Table adhered to and the ideals to which they aspired. Simon Armitage’s brilliant translation breathes new life not only into the characters but also into the poetry itself.
January 8, 2022
Re-read.
Originally, I read this alongside LotR for the connection to Tolkein (having been a translation of Tolkein, himself, from the original Middle English), but it was surprisingly great all on its own.
Allegory? Of course. But it was also a tale of Sir Gawain the most pure, going on his own little quest and getting seduced and bumping heads against mother nature.
Literally, in this case.
I loved the pride and the twist back then and enjoyed it just as much again. And I also have a great fondness for the Green Knight, regardless, so this story was a bit of a no-brainer for me.
Originally, I read this alongside LotR for the connection to Tolkein (having been a translation of Tolkein, himself, from the original Middle English), but it was surprisingly great all on its own.
Allegory? Of course. But it was also a tale of Sir Gawain the most pure, going on his own little quest and getting seduced and bumping heads against mother nature.
Literally, in this case.
I loved the pride and the twist back then and enjoyed it just as much again. And I also have a great fondness for the Green Knight, regardless, so this story was a bit of a no-brainer for me.
May 22, 2012
One of the best of the 'classic' Arthurian tales. Gawain is presented a bit differently here from many of the other ones. Usually he's a bit of a braggart and kind of a jerk, especially to women, but here he is presented as the perfect exemplar of courtoisie. He's also a bit young and still untried, so maybe that explains it for those who want to be able to have a grand unified theory of Arthuriana.
Anyway, you probably all know the story: Arthur is about to have a New Year's feast, but according to tradition is waiting for some marvel to occur. Right on cue in trots the Green Knight on his horse, a giant of a man who proceeds to trash the reputation of the entire court and dare someone to cut off his head as long as he gets to return the favour. No one makes a move and Arthur decides he better do something about this until Gawain steps up and asks to take on this quest himself. Everyone agrees and Gawain proceeds to smite the green head from the Knight's body. Everyone is fairly pleased with the result until the Green Knight gets up, picks up his smiling head, and says: "See you next year, G. Don't forget that it's my turn then." (I paraphrase, the middle english of the poet is far superior.) Needless to say everyone is a bit nonplussed by this.
The year passes and Gawain doesn't seem to do much of anything until he finally decides it's time to get out and find this green fellow and fulfill his obligation...hopefully something will come up along the way to improve his prospects. What follows is a journey to the borders of the Otherworld as well as a detailed primer on just how one ought to act in order to follow the dictates of courtliness. Gawain ends up being the guest of Sir Bertilak, a generous knight who says that the Green Chapel, the destination of Gawain's quest, is close by and Gawain should stay with them for the duration of the holidays. We are treated to some coy (and mostly chaste) loveplay on the part of Bertilak's wife from which Gawain mostly manages to extricate himself without contravening the dictates of politeness, as well as the details of a medieval deer, boar and fox hunt with nary a point missing.
In the end Gawain goes to the chapel and finds that his erstwhile host Bertilak was in fact the Green Knight. Gawain submits himself and is left, after three swings, with only a scratch as a reward for his courteous behaviour in Bertilak's castle. Despite the apparent success of Gawain, he views the adventure as a failure since he did not come off completely unscathed and he wears a girdle he was gifted by Bertilak's wife as a mark of shame to remind himself of this. Harsh much?
The language of the Gawain poet's middle english is beautiful and I highly recommend reading it in the original with a good translation at hand to catch the nuances of meaning. The poem is replete with an almost dreamlike quality that is made real by all of the exquisite details of medieval life that are interspersed throughout the text. This is a great book to read at Christmas time.
Anyway, you probably all know the story: Arthur is about to have a New Year's feast, but according to tradition is waiting for some marvel to occur. Right on cue in trots the Green Knight on his horse, a giant of a man who proceeds to trash the reputation of the entire court and dare someone to cut off his head as long as he gets to return the favour. No one makes a move and Arthur decides he better do something about this until Gawain steps up and asks to take on this quest himself. Everyone agrees and Gawain proceeds to smite the green head from the Knight's body. Everyone is fairly pleased with the result until the Green Knight gets up, picks up his smiling head, and says: "See you next year, G. Don't forget that it's my turn then." (I paraphrase, the middle english of the poet is far superior.) Needless to say everyone is a bit nonplussed by this.
The year passes and Gawain doesn't seem to do much of anything until he finally decides it's time to get out and find this green fellow and fulfill his obligation...hopefully something will come up along the way to improve his prospects. What follows is a journey to the borders of the Otherworld as well as a detailed primer on just how one ought to act in order to follow the dictates of courtliness. Gawain ends up being the guest of Sir Bertilak, a generous knight who says that the Green Chapel, the destination of Gawain's quest, is close by and Gawain should stay with them for the duration of the holidays. We are treated to some coy (and mostly chaste) loveplay on the part of Bertilak's wife from which Gawain mostly manages to extricate himself without contravening the dictates of politeness, as well as the details of a medieval deer, boar and fox hunt with nary a point missing.
In the end Gawain goes to the chapel and finds that his erstwhile host Bertilak was in fact the Green Knight. Gawain submits himself and is left, after three swings, with only a scratch as a reward for his courteous behaviour in Bertilak's castle. Despite the apparent success of Gawain, he views the adventure as a failure since he did not come off completely unscathed and he wears a girdle he was gifted by Bertilak's wife as a mark of shame to remind himself of this. Harsh much?
The language of the Gawain poet's middle english is beautiful and I highly recommend reading it in the original with a good translation at hand to catch the nuances of meaning. The poem is replete with an almost dreamlike quality that is made real by all of the exquisite details of medieval life that are interspersed throughout the text. This is a great book to read at Christmas time.
Read
October 30, 2016An enjoyable translation:
William Langland's The Vision of Piers Plowman, Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales and the anonymous Sir Gawain and the Green Knight all come from the end of the thirteenth century, all written in distinctly different regional styles of English. Distinct is an understatement, in purely personal terms Chaucer I can enjoy, Langland is work to read and understand while I find the language of Gawaine incomprehensible. But there are translations.
Armitage in his translation sought to achieve a distinctive Northern flavour, despite being a Southerner this wasn't something that held me away from the text and if he hadn't mentioned it in his introduction I wouldn't have noticed or thought of this as requiring a particular effort or intention on his part. On reflection not paying homage to the Northern origin in the word choice seems a distinctly odd idea.
The poem is on the one hand written in a Christian context with a nod as above to the idea of Courtly love while on the other the mutual decapitation challenge (not to be tried at home) that the Green Knight and Sir Gawaine are engaged in reminds me a bit of the Mabinogion in which occasionally the loss of one's own head, while moderately inconvenient, is not necessarily fatal.
Though above all this is a poem that has the taste of childhood about it, not because we enjoyed decapitating each other back down in Sarf London, but because the story of Sir Gwain's quest is interwoven with the memory of walking through the park to school on a foggy autumn morning when the fog was so thick that I could not even see the trees lining the pathway, lost in the wilderness wandering wildly in search of the green chapel with only my little feet to guide me to my destination.
Yes, he dozes in a daze, dreams and mutters
like a mournful man with his mind on dark matters-
how destiny might deal him a death-blow on the day
when he grapples with the giant in the green chapel;
of how the strike of the axe must be suffered without struggle.
But sensing her presence there he surfaces from sleep,
drags himself out of his dreams to address her.
Laughing warmly she walks towards him
and finds his face with the friendliest kiss.
In a worthy style he welcomes the woman
and seeing her so lovely and alluringly dressed,
every feature so faultless, her complexion so fine,
a passionate heat takes hold in his heart.
Speech tripped from their tongues and they traded smiles,
and a bond of friendship was forged there, all blissful
and bright.
They talk with tenderness
and pride, and yet their plight
is perilous unless
sweet Mary minds her knight.
William Langland's The Vision of Piers Plowman, Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales and the anonymous Sir Gawain and the Green Knight all come from the end of the thirteenth century, all written in distinctly different regional styles of English. Distinct is an understatement, in purely personal terms Chaucer I can enjoy, Langland is work to read and understand while I find the language of Gawaine incomprehensible. But there are translations.
Armitage in his translation sought to achieve a distinctive Northern flavour, despite being a Southerner this wasn't something that held me away from the text and if he hadn't mentioned it in his introduction I wouldn't have noticed or thought of this as requiring a particular effort or intention on his part. On reflection not paying homage to the Northern origin in the word choice seems a distinctly odd idea.
The poem is on the one hand written in a Christian context with a nod as above to the idea of Courtly love while on the other the mutual decapitation challenge (not to be tried at home) that the Green Knight and Sir Gawaine are engaged in reminds me a bit of the Mabinogion in which occasionally the loss of one's own head, while moderately inconvenient, is not necessarily fatal.
Then Gawain called as loudly as his lungs would allow,
'Who has power in this place to honour his pact?
Because good Gawain now walks on this ground. Whoever will meet him should emerge this moment and he needs to be fast - it's now or it's never.'
'Abide,' came a voice from above the bank.
'You'll cop what's coming to you quickly enough.'
Though above all this is a poem that has the taste of childhood about it, not because we enjoyed decapitating each other back down in Sarf London, but because the story of Sir Gwain's quest is interwoven with the memory of walking through the park to school on a foggy autumn morning when the fog was so thick that I could not even see the trees lining the pathway, lost in the wilderness wandering wildly in search of the green chapel with only my little feet to guide me to my destination.
March 2, 2019
I first read this in 1975. I've read it several times since. The translation (Marie Borroff) is good. I am entirely taken in by the parallel structures in the story. Sir Gawain comes off as a wonderfully human character in a type of literature not known for well developed characters.
October 16, 2023
In the ten years since I first read Sir Gawain and the Green Knight I’ve thought about it a lot. It was the first Arthurian work I read, long before I knew there was an enormous world of prior writings about Arthurian subjects. Reading it again, I have a new appreciation for some of its qualities I didn’t fully grasp on my first reading. I can place it in a broader context and understand its significance geographically and chronologically. My overall enjoyment was mostly unchanged, but I see things in it now I did not before.
It is preserved in only a single vellum manuscript from the late fourteenth century, in North Midland Middle English. Unlike the French and German Arthurian epic poems that came before, this one is close enough to modern English for an attempt to be made to translate it into verse. The translation by Brian Stone in the Penguin Classics version preserves the alliterative character of the original. Presenting it this way retains an appreciable amount of its traditional style.
It is a late medieval rendition of the beheading game, seen before in Celtic mythology with Cuchulain as the hero, and in the thirteenth century continuations of Perceval. At King Arthur’s Camelot Chrismastide celebration a hulking knight in green appears, requesting the boon of good sport be granted, that sport being a decapitation that puzzles and mystifies all of Arthur’s court. He challenges one to step forward, deliver the fiercest blow they can upon the knight, and to then await his repayment of that blow with one of his own in one year.
Gawain eventually accepts the challenge and decapitates the Green Knight. The knight’s head rolls away from his standing body, which then walks over to it and picks it up, and tells Gawain where to find him on one year, at his Green Chapel in a distant land, to receive his redemption. He leaves, and Arthur’s court resumes their celebration, albeit in a different mood than before, while Gawain contemplates his new obligation.
We see that this Knight of the Green Chapel is a supernatural figure of some sort, but more than that we do not know. Gawain is given fanfare and the finest of armors and weaponry to aid him on his adventure. Seen here and only here is Gawain bearing the pentangle on his shield, and a glorious tapestry of flashy decorations that show the grandeur with which legend has always associated him. Throughout the poem, Gawain’s trek across the lands receives detailed attention, as does his stay at a castle in a location thought by many to be a version of the Celtic Otherworld, indicated by the passage through water required to find it.
The poet glosses over many of the more daunting tribulations Gawain encounters, like his battles with wolves, dragons, wild men, ogres, but tells of his fights against starvation and the winter cold, and his difficulty with the extreme cliffs and crags and mountainous landscapes. Before his arrival at the castle, his adventure is perilous and one that might surely be his end.
It is at the castle that things take on a different tone. He and his horse Gringolet are taken in and given the finest of shelter and food and hospitality possible. The lord of the castle spares no expense for Gawain’s comfort. While the lord is out on his daily hunts, his wife makes advances toward Gawain that resemble the temptation motif encountered in past Arthurian literature. Gawain maintains his peerless character and integrity in repeated encounters with the lord’s wife, which will be a boon to him in the end.
The relevance of this castle, the lord, his wife, everything that Gawain encounters, and the Green Knight himself, are revealed in the striking final leg of the adventure. A tale of symbolism, legend, supernatural deception and trials, and courage ends up being more than it appears. It is a trial of character and spirit, an allusion to many possible ideas, and a work steeped in the lore and religious significance of obscure things.
Although the middle section seems to crawl in circles for a time, and the recurring scenes of the lord’s hunt seem an odd thing to focus on so eagerly for so long, the poem is a grand story. It is both visually and mystically powerful, a sort of puzzle one can appreciate at only the surface if they wish, or at layers further down, exploring a well of peculiarity. The Green Knight is an entity who is characterized in such a dynamic and unusual way that I can’t describe it any better than the translator does in his analysis:
“On his first appearance he is described successively as a terrifying giant, a handsome and well-built knight, a weirdly green and implicitly supernatural person, as excessively hairy like that common creature of popular mythology, the wild man of the woods, and as a mocking enchanter. And on his last appearance, besides these, he appears as a warm and sympathetic human being, an omniscient confessor who judges with accuracy and compassion, and above all with authority, and finally as a human, subtly diminished by the termination of his supernatural function.”
Gawain’s character is equally compelling, although here he is but a shadow of the Gawain we know from the longer works of French or German Arthurian tradition. In character he is unchanged, a paragon of the most highly valued knightly virtues, an unspoiled, steadfast hero who undertakes and accomplishes that which is set before him, no matter its risks. He is virtuous, patient, collected, gifted with moral clarity and higher purpose, but not immune to the passions and base human instincts. Where he excels and where he is wanting, the Knight of the Green Chapel seems to understand better than anyone.
It is preserved in only a single vellum manuscript from the late fourteenth century, in North Midland Middle English. Unlike the French and German Arthurian epic poems that came before, this one is close enough to modern English for an attempt to be made to translate it into verse. The translation by Brian Stone in the Penguin Classics version preserves the alliterative character of the original. Presenting it this way retains an appreciable amount of its traditional style.
It is a late medieval rendition of the beheading game, seen before in Celtic mythology with Cuchulain as the hero, and in the thirteenth century continuations of Perceval. At King Arthur’s Camelot Chrismastide celebration a hulking knight in green appears, requesting the boon of good sport be granted, that sport being a decapitation that puzzles and mystifies all of Arthur’s court. He challenges one to step forward, deliver the fiercest blow they can upon the knight, and to then await his repayment of that blow with one of his own in one year.
Gawain eventually accepts the challenge and decapitates the Green Knight. The knight’s head rolls away from his standing body, which then walks over to it and picks it up, and tells Gawain where to find him on one year, at his Green Chapel in a distant land, to receive his redemption. He leaves, and Arthur’s court resumes their celebration, albeit in a different mood than before, while Gawain contemplates his new obligation.
We see that this Knight of the Green Chapel is a supernatural figure of some sort, but more than that we do not know. Gawain is given fanfare and the finest of armors and weaponry to aid him on his adventure. Seen here and only here is Gawain bearing the pentangle on his shield, and a glorious tapestry of flashy decorations that show the grandeur with which legend has always associated him. Throughout the poem, Gawain’s trek across the lands receives detailed attention, as does his stay at a castle in a location thought by many to be a version of the Celtic Otherworld, indicated by the passage through water required to find it.
The poet glosses over many of the more daunting tribulations Gawain encounters, like his battles with wolves, dragons, wild men, ogres, but tells of his fights against starvation and the winter cold, and his difficulty with the extreme cliffs and crags and mountainous landscapes. Before his arrival at the castle, his adventure is perilous and one that might surely be his end.
It is at the castle that things take on a different tone. He and his horse Gringolet are taken in and given the finest of shelter and food and hospitality possible. The lord of the castle spares no expense for Gawain’s comfort. While the lord is out on his daily hunts, his wife makes advances toward Gawain that resemble the temptation motif encountered in past Arthurian literature. Gawain maintains his peerless character and integrity in repeated encounters with the lord’s wife, which will be a boon to him in the end.
The relevance of this castle, the lord, his wife, everything that Gawain encounters, and the Green Knight himself, are revealed in the striking final leg of the adventure. A tale of symbolism, legend, supernatural deception and trials, and courage ends up being more than it appears. It is a trial of character and spirit, an allusion to many possible ideas, and a work steeped in the lore and religious significance of obscure things.
Although the middle section seems to crawl in circles for a time, and the recurring scenes of the lord’s hunt seem an odd thing to focus on so eagerly for so long, the poem is a grand story. It is both visually and mystically powerful, a sort of puzzle one can appreciate at only the surface if they wish, or at layers further down, exploring a well of peculiarity. The Green Knight is an entity who is characterized in such a dynamic and unusual way that I can’t describe it any better than the translator does in his analysis:
“On his first appearance he is described successively as a terrifying giant, a handsome and well-built knight, a weirdly green and implicitly supernatural person, as excessively hairy like that common creature of popular mythology, the wild man of the woods, and as a mocking enchanter. And on his last appearance, besides these, he appears as a warm and sympathetic human being, an omniscient confessor who judges with accuracy and compassion, and above all with authority, and finally as a human, subtly diminished by the termination of his supernatural function.”
Gawain’s character is equally compelling, although here he is but a shadow of the Gawain we know from the longer works of French or German Arthurian tradition. In character he is unchanged, a paragon of the most highly valued knightly virtues, an unspoiled, steadfast hero who undertakes and accomplishes that which is set before him, no matter its risks. He is virtuous, patient, collected, gifted with moral clarity and higher purpose, but not immune to the passions and base human instincts. Where he excels and where he is wanting, the Knight of the Green Chapel seems to understand better than anyone.
May 12, 2021
I gave this three stars because it whetted my bisexuality for , because seriously, if you hate women, there's only three things you can do to tide me over with your writing: not write about them, be glorious at everything else, or include a female character who for all your fancy rhythms obviously scares the living shit out of you. In the words of the immortal Shelley, if I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other, and with twenty lines out of 2530 in this Arthurian tale, a little goes a long way.
Moving beyond the author's obvious issues and more towards the stuffs of academia, it's hard to be impressed by this if one encounters Beowulf and The Heptameron first. The former has it beat in terms of pure strength of utterance, while the latter has it beat in, well, everything else. It's the curse of encountering the critique before the critiqued, and while SGatGK has got a lovely sense of nature and hunting and male fashion, it doesn't make up for the utter flatline of the themes. Yes, lack of honor is the worst, yes, all women are lying whores, yes, it sucks that you can't get rid of sin no matter how many people are forgiven by, but guess what? Least you don't have to deal with Eve and all that biblical jazz. Gawain's mark of shame even turns into a fashion accessory of significant social status at the end which, as far as thematic meaning goes, I'm not even going to attempt to contextualize but will tell you for a fact that it must be amazing.
What else. If I had to write an essay about this I'd explore the relation of Nature to Humanity and all such Wicker Man themes, but it's not something I'll go after unless I have to. There was rhyme and meter and some interesting stuff about fundamental differences between Germanic and Latin senses of poetry in the introduction, so that'll be useful in the future. Armitage even gives the benefit of the doubt to whether the unknown is indeed male in the ending appendage, but frankly, he can have it. I'll take what bits and pieces I can manage and leave the glory behind.
Moving beyond the author's obvious issues and more towards the stuffs of academia, it's hard to be impressed by this if one encounters Beowulf and The Heptameron first. The former has it beat in terms of pure strength of utterance, while the latter has it beat in, well, everything else. It's the curse of encountering the critique before the critiqued, and while SGatGK has got a lovely sense of nature and hunting and male fashion, it doesn't make up for the utter flatline of the themes. Yes, lack of honor is the worst, yes, all women are lying whores, yes, it sucks that you can't get rid of sin no matter how many people are forgiven by, but guess what? Least you don't have to deal with Eve and all that biblical jazz. Gawain's mark of shame even turns into a fashion accessory of significant social status at the end which, as far as thematic meaning goes, I'm not even going to attempt to contextualize but will tell you for a fact that it must be amazing.
What else. If I had to write an essay about this I'd explore the relation of Nature to Humanity and all such Wicker Man themes, but it's not something I'll go after unless I have to. There was rhyme and meter and some interesting stuff about fundamental differences between Germanic and Latin senses of poetry in the introduction, so that'll be useful in the future. Armitage even gives the benefit of the doubt to whether the unknown is indeed male in the ending appendage, but frankly, he can have it. I'll take what bits and pieces I can manage and leave the glory behind.
So summer comes in season with its subtle airs,P.S. Who else cannot wait for that upcoming Dev Patel adaptation? Ouh là là is a massive understatement.
when the west wind sighs among shoots and seeds,
and those plants which flower and flourish are a pleasure
as their leaves let drip their drink of dew
and they sparkle and glitter when glanced by sunlight.
Then autumn arrives to harden the harvest
and with it comes a warning to ripen before winter.
The drying airs arrive, driving up dust
from the face of the earth to the heights of heaven,
and wild sky wrestles the sun with its winds,
and the leaves of the lime lay littered on the ground,
and grass that was green turns withered and gray.
Then all which had risen over-ripens and rots
and yesterday on yesterday the year dies away,
and winter returns as is the way of the world
through time.
At Michaelmas the moon
stands like that season's sign,
a warning to Gawain
to rouse himself and ride.
January 2, 2024
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is a medieval poem by which a one of the stories of Arthurian legend is told. It concerns Sir Gawain, youngest Knight of the Round Table who is also King Arthur's nephew. On a New Year's Eve, a strange green knight enters the court of King Arthur and challenges the knights in to a "beheading game" which challenge, sir Gawain accepts. According to the challenge by the green Knight he was to be beheaded by his axe and whoever accepts the challenge to expect the same return in a year and a day. Sir Gawain beheads the green Knight and he retreats with his severed head informing sir Gawain to meet him in the green chapel on the stipulated day. The story progresses as sir Gawain journeys to the green chapel to meet his fate. And on this journey, his honour and loyalty is tested.
I'm interested in the legend of King Arthur and his Round Table but cannot recall to have read any other than childhood fables; so this work really piqued my interest. I read the poetic translation and it was quite interesting to read the verses while a story of courage, strength of character, honesty and loyalty is unfolded. The story was good enough though not great as I expected. But I'm happy to have read a proper Arthurian story after all.
I'm interested in the legend of King Arthur and his Round Table but cannot recall to have read any other than childhood fables; so this work really piqued my interest. I read the poetic translation and it was quite interesting to read the verses while a story of courage, strength of character, honesty and loyalty is unfolded. The story was good enough though not great as I expected. But I'm happy to have read a proper Arthurian story after all.
November 12, 2021
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is a rich and beautiful work. This chivalric romance kept me guessing and made me ask questions. That's something I always appreciate in any work of literature. I remember many of its scenes vividly, but some aspects of it are blurred in my mind. If I remember well, I read more than one version of this work and found different renderings interesting. Whose version did I prefer? What copy was my favourite one? Did I attempt to read it in original? Sadly, I don't remember. I did enjoy it a lot and I even wrote papers on it. That much I do remember. Another classic I clearly need to reread before attempting a longer review. I need to dig up my old textbooks and handbooks, I know I will find at least one copy of this chivalric romance in some of them.
September 12, 2013
Perhaps my favorite Arthurian classic so far. Loved the alliterative verse and the beautiful descriptions of seasons - the conflicting ideas centered on chivalry, courtship, religion, etc. all made the reading much more intellectually stimulating. Not to mention that the ending throws in a wedge that forces one to evaluate the overall theme of the poem, or whether a unifying theme exists at all. Highly recommended for those interested in British literature and for those who want to give it a try; it's much more bearable than Beowulf, and the seduction scene is one of my favorites.
October 30, 2024
behind every gay person (sir gawain) is a gayer more evil person (the green knight)
June 22, 2010
I'd been attracted to this poem for years and years, but somehow never read it; tiptoeing 'round it like a gentleman too dignified to display his blood-gorged book lust. The title itself attracted me - the name Gawain and the idea of a Green Knight evoked plenty of mental imagery: greenery and silver clashings in fecund fairy tale landscapes. I also like the way Tolkien's name looks and sounds (evocative of tangled teeming forests clearly delineated) so I dipped into his version a while ago, but it seemed stiff and wooden, even opaque, or something, so I didn't pursue it. Then along came this version, translated by a fairly young English poet, Simon Armitage, with a back blurb by John Ashbery (a favorite poet of mine), so I gave it a whirl.
All of these old books should be translated by young poets. What freshness! What verve and bounce! I cantered right through it like a glossy horse over tight green turf. This is a remarkable poem; its literary sophistication tempered by rustic intemperence, striking imagery, bejeweled descriptions of gracile angelic maidens and boar hunting gore, and mysterious castles and the Woodwose (or Wodwo) the Wildman of the Woods. I'm sure scholars have taken issue with Armitage's obvious strayings from literal translation, but who cares! The point is to keep these old texts alive, and Armitage does that in sprightly spades. Instead of dead paper this book should've been printed on live leaves.
It's a fairly simple and well-known story, so I won't go into its details, but I must mention the overall chaste (yet pan-sexual) sexiness of it. Gawain is one of the great androgynous heroes in literature, but then the Middle Ages were filled with the likes of him - dandies with blood-smeared swords, lithe curvy athletes in bright body-hugging armor - and his mild, ambiguous undoing in the poem is his acceptance of a green silk girdle proffered to him by a temptress. The author momentarily lingers over his description of this silk garment worn beneath his shining armor, emphasizing the muscled curves. The girdle will protect him from harm; the harm being his accepting as part of a deal to be beheaded by the Green Knight (the Green Knight allowed Gawain to behead him at the beginning, before trotting off with his green head under his green arm). Mutual beheading? Green silken undergarment and a sword? There is some dense pan-sexual coding in that scene. But the sword merely knicks Gawain's extended neck, and he's allowed to return to Camelot lightly shamed, with a fast fading scar.
All of these old books should be translated by young poets. What freshness! What verve and bounce! I cantered right through it like a glossy horse over tight green turf. This is a remarkable poem; its literary sophistication tempered by rustic intemperence, striking imagery, bejeweled descriptions of gracile angelic maidens and boar hunting gore, and mysterious castles and the Woodwose (or Wodwo) the Wildman of the Woods. I'm sure scholars have taken issue with Armitage's obvious strayings from literal translation, but who cares! The point is to keep these old texts alive, and Armitage does that in sprightly spades. Instead of dead paper this book should've been printed on live leaves.
It's a fairly simple and well-known story, so I won't go into its details, but I must mention the overall chaste (yet pan-sexual) sexiness of it. Gawain is one of the great androgynous heroes in literature, but then the Middle Ages were filled with the likes of him - dandies with blood-smeared swords, lithe curvy athletes in bright body-hugging armor - and his mild, ambiguous undoing in the poem is his acceptance of a green silk girdle proffered to him by a temptress. The author momentarily lingers over his description of this silk garment worn beneath his shining armor, emphasizing the muscled curves. The girdle will protect him from harm; the harm being his accepting as part of a deal to be beheaded by the Green Knight (the Green Knight allowed Gawain to behead him at the beginning, before trotting off with his green head under his green arm). Mutual beheading? Green silken undergarment and a sword? There is some dense pan-sexual coding in that scene. But the sword merely knicks Gawain's extended neck, and he's allowed to return to Camelot lightly shamed, with a fast fading scar.
July 29, 2021
Oh, this was fun! Review later.
But that PLOT TWIST though!
But that PLOT TWIST though!
October 13, 2020
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is another great read for one of my English classes. I honestly love being able to read classic literature and hearing someone else's thoughts on it. I like seeing if I had the same understanding or if I was "way off" (per say, literature can be subjective).
This one was not my favourite but it was pretty cool. I always wanted to venture into some King Arthur and Camelot stories, so this one fit the bill. While it's not my favourite, it was very interesting to read it!
There's a lot going on in this book depending on how you read it. Sir Gawain maybe being a coward or following the time's ideal hero trope. The sexual aspect of it. The ties of animals and how the heroes and villains act. Throw in the cool alliteration (depending on the translation you get), and it makes for one epic tale. It's all so interesting. And then, you know, maybe it was just meant to be a story and all of the themes weren't intended to be there?
Either way, I found Sir Gawain to be a more humanistic character than in other classic hero fiction. Sir Gawain seems like he fought for Arthur because he was the only one who had the guts to do it - not because he wanted too. He almost chickens out, avoids his problems for a bit and is actually scared. This romance doesn't feel as epic because he isn't the warrior prince we are all expecting, but instead he's a scared knight just doing his best. That's what I find super interesting about it. I didn't enjoy it as much, and maybe that's because he was... human? He acted reasonably and how we expect people to act? It's so strange.
If you get the chance, I recommend reading this and then finding some translations or explanation videos. Seeing all the different ideas about this work really made it stand out for me and make me enjoy it more!
Four out of five stars.
This one was not my favourite but it was pretty cool. I always wanted to venture into some King Arthur and Camelot stories, so this one fit the bill. While it's not my favourite, it was very interesting to read it!
There's a lot going on in this book depending on how you read it. Sir Gawain maybe being a coward or following the time's ideal hero trope. The sexual aspect of it. The ties of animals and how the heroes and villains act. Throw in the cool alliteration (depending on the translation you get), and it makes for one epic tale. It's all so interesting. And then, you know, maybe it was just meant to be a story and all of the themes weren't intended to be there?
Either way, I found Sir Gawain to be a more humanistic character than in other classic hero fiction. Sir Gawain seems like he fought for Arthur because he was the only one who had the guts to do it - not because he wanted too. He almost chickens out, avoids his problems for a bit and is actually scared. This romance doesn't feel as epic because he isn't the warrior prince we are all expecting, but instead he's a scared knight just doing his best. That's what I find super interesting about it. I didn't enjoy it as much, and maybe that's because he was... human? He acted reasonably and how we expect people to act? It's so strange.
If you get the chance, I recommend reading this and then finding some translations or explanation videos. Seeing all the different ideas about this work really made it stand out for me and make me enjoy it more!
Four out of five stars.
January 2, 2015
The meter on this thing is pretty impressive: a strict alliterative pattern of two stresses, a pause, and two more stresses, with a five-line rhyming stanza (a short line followed by four with an ABAB scheme) at the end of each passage. It should be terribly constrictive, but the Gawain poet flows through it like it's nothing.
Not that I can read the original, of course, so I have to take Armitage's word for it that it's as good as his translation, which I did like. This edition has the original on the left side and the translation on the right, though, which allows you to see how close he's hewing and also lets you play the "How well could I understand this?" game. (Answer: not at all. Those people talked funny.)
The intro here has an interesting point: Anglo languages, Armitage says, stress the beginnings of words, whereas Romantic ones stress the ends. For this reason, Anglo epic poetry tends to focus on alliteration, while Romantic ones focus on rhyme. Get it? It had never occurred to me before. That's kindof cool.
This isn't a long book; I blazed through it in a single night over a couple glasses of wine while Kirsten was out getting blasted at some company event.
Not that I can read the original, of course, so I have to take Armitage's word for it that it's as good as his translation, which I did like. This edition has the original on the left side and the translation on the right, though, which allows you to see how close he's hewing and also lets you play the "How well could I understand this?" game. (Answer: not at all. Those people talked funny.)
The intro here has an interesting point: Anglo languages, Armitage says, stress the beginnings of words, whereas Romantic ones stress the ends. For this reason, Anglo epic poetry tends to focus on alliteration, while Romantic ones focus on rhyme. Get it? It had never occurred to me before. That's kindof cool.
This isn't a long book; I blazed through it in a single night over a couple glasses of wine while Kirsten was out getting blasted at some company event.
January 1, 2019
This cover is very creepy but not indicative of how the Green Knight is described. An addition to the Arthurian legend. This is a quest story of a type told as an epic poem written in the 14th century, I'm sure it was related orally to entertain a gathering, and what a story it is! In part I, Arthur and his Knights are celebrating the Christmas/New Year's holidays and are intruded upon by this fabulous Green Knight who throws down a challenge. Sir Gawain accepts and what ensures IS quite creepy.
Part II begins the quest of Sir Gawain to complete the challenge with the Green Knight which takes him away from known parts. In the guise of hospitality at a castle in the woods, comes another challenge, although Sir Gawain does not recognize it as such. The story is wrapped up in the code of chivalry, faith, and a pinch or two of magic - it is Arthurian, so magic is always around.
I enjoyed this tale, although the preparing of the animals after the hunt was more than I needed to visualize for a "holiday" read. If you want an in depth look at this read, go to the Classic and Western Canon group for some very education & insightful commentary of this Dec group interim read
Part II begins the quest of Sir Gawain to complete the challenge with the Green Knight which takes him away from known parts. In the guise of hospitality at a castle in the woods, comes another challenge, although Sir Gawain does not recognize it as such. The story is wrapped up in the code of chivalry, faith, and a pinch or two of magic - it is Arthurian, so magic is always around.
I enjoyed this tale, although the preparing of the animals after the hunt was more than I needed to visualize for a "holiday" read. If you want an in depth look at this read, go to the Classic and Western Canon group for some very education & insightful commentary of this Dec group interim read
November 29, 2018
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight by an anonymous late 14th Century author is a chivalric romance written in Middle English. But you don’t have to be proficient in Middle English to read it as there are several excellent translations available, including some on line.
This is a delightful Medieval poem about the adventures of Sir Gawain, King Arthur’s nephew. The events occur during two consecutive Christmas seasons and involve a jolly green giant, a beheading, a quest, a journey into the wilderness, a magic castle, a beautiful lady, a couple of delightful seduction scenes, a ruse, an unexpected twist, and probably the biggest oops blunder in English literature.
The poet gently exposes the foibles of human nature and the difficulty of living up to courtly ideals with their concomitant code of chivalry. And he does so with sympathy and humor neatly gift wrapped in eloquent diction to celebrate the season.
Highly recommended.
This is a delightful Medieval poem about the adventures of Sir Gawain, King Arthur’s nephew. The events occur during two consecutive Christmas seasons and involve a jolly green giant, a beheading, a quest, a journey into the wilderness, a magic castle, a beautiful lady, a couple of delightful seduction scenes, a ruse, an unexpected twist, and probably the biggest oops blunder in English literature.
The poet gently exposes the foibles of human nature and the difficulty of living up to courtly ideals with their concomitant code of chivalry. And he does so with sympathy and humor neatly gift wrapped in eloquent diction to celebrate the season.
Highly recommended.
January 9, 2019
I have read Tolkien's Sir Gawain translation many times and will probably read it again this month for our book club, but this poetic translation by Simon Armitage is outstanding in my unscholarly opinion. Perhaps it was the suberb narration. You could really imagine this as a poem that was recited over and over again around those rings of fire. Bill Wallis not only read the translation in a lilting northern accent but then he turned around and read the original.
I found the whole experience exceedingly lovely, hence the 5 stars.
I found the whole experience exceedingly lovely, hence the 5 stars.
May 6, 2023
I’m not much of one for Arthurian tales, but Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is gripping.
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