The Victorians and the ides aglæcwif (and I delve into the murky mere of tutoring)

Students re: cases

I have (just about) survived my first week of tutoring Old English to second years, and....well, let's just say, I had expected university students to be a bit more communicative. Instead, it appears to be a "who can hold off responding the longest" competition. Am I just paranoid?....am I just stoned? If only I could go back to the times when listening to a Green Day album was the most productive thing I did in a day.


Whilst trying to maintain my sanity, the rest of my life must go on (my life being thesis, sleep, painting, thesis, sleep, staring into space, thesis). And the other thing my life appears to revolve around...Grendel's mother. Again?! Yes, again.

grendles modor ides aglæcwif

Today, I ask 'why'. Why has Grendel's mother been turned into the "monstrous ogress" with the "talons" and the wolfish ways and the gold paint and the scales and the everything?

I have pretty much established that she was not demonised by the poet himself, not even her actions (see previous posts!). Not even Beowulf and Hrothgar think she's doing something terrible. The only people who do think that, are the translators and scholars who decided secg means "warrior" for Beowulf, but shit, look, it's also used for Grendel's mother... eh, it probably means "creature" in that instance. Just put down "creature"...or I know, I know, "monster". Yeah, that's as accurate as we're gonna get here.

So, I recently started delving into this a bit deeper, wondering who the hell is the bane of my existence (and at the same time the reason I'm doing a PhD in this subject...thank you), and, well, I guess there's a few possible reasons.

The most obvious of these is that, firstly, she is the mother of Grendel, and is therefore assumed to be monstrous. Whether or not Grendel is as monstrous as he is assumed to be, this is not enough proof for his mother to be monstrous. Secondly, she is an antagonist, therefore is bound to get the short end of the stick (is that the phrase?? Hard end of the stick? The ugly stick?) when it comes to translating her.

Berit Åström argues that the reason for her characterisation, and for other women's dismissal, lies in the fact that in the 1800's (when Beowulf was first given much attention), history was viewed in a linear fashion - meaning that, in their opinion, the centuries got progressively more civilised. The Anglo-Saxon era then, must have been all about power, glory, and manstuff, meaning that female figures in history got ignored because they were presumably unimportant to the Anglo-Saxons. 

I think Åström was on the right track here - after all, for a period that treated women so horrendously, of course women were treated even worse by the Anglo-Saxons. I can picture a Victorian scholar musing over how much they'd progressed in their treatment of women in that 800 year gap. "Sure at least we're not as bad as those old Anglo-Saxons! Edith, get me some tea, woman!"

But there's most likely more to it than that. After all, the Victorian era was pretty renowned for its sexism, its lack of women's rights, and its strict confines to what femaleness meant.
Being a time of staunch Christian belief and conservative morals (carried on from the Middle Ages), the bible was a pretty big reference book on how to behave. Unfortunately for women, the bible is also a pretty misogynistic text.

Which are you?

And basically, when it comes to the bible, really only two kinds of women are prevalent. You can choose to emulate the Virgin Mary, submissive, willing to carry God's child (even though they hadn't even gone on one date yet - sluuuut) or you could emulate Eve, the one who overstepped the boundary and went against God's will (the patriarchy, man!). You can only be one or the other. You're either all good, or you're a FUCKING WHORE.

For the Victorians, this Virgin-Whore, Madonna-Eve complex was present, especially for middle and higher class women (while the working class made shit in factories and spoke in strong cockney accents according to TV). But it was probably more present in an angel-demon dichotomy. For some strange reason, in the 1800's, the ideal woman started to be seen as an angel - whereas before this, angels were muscled, androgynous figures with spears (or freakishly muscular babies). The ideal woman's role revolved around marriage and childbirth and the homestead and shutting the fuck up. And somewhere along the line, the terms 'angel' and 'domesticity' seemed to become almost synonymous, as Auerbach argues (in Woman as Demon). This possibly started with Coventry Patmore's poem "The Angel in the House", which was basically “a convenient shorthand for the selfless paragon all women were exhorted to be, enveloped in family life and seeking no identity beyond the roles of daughter, wife, and mother” (Auerbach, 69).

Cover of Norton edition

And so, those women who were not the ideal, who were not submissive and domestic, were often to be seen as monstrous (not necessarily Alien or those terrifying things from The Descent (shiver) type monstrous) or often were described with imagery harking back to the Fall, categorising them as snake-like. Basically, unfeminine actions like physical exertion and having an opinion made you monstrous.

Furthermore, a 'discipline' that was very popular in the Victorian era was that of physiognomy - basically, the assessment of someone's character by their outward appearance. Fierce scientific stuff, really! Yet its impact appears throughout Victorian literature (and still somewhat today), in works of Dickens, Brontë, Wilde, Austen, and more, and was also influential on art. Even if you look at old illustrations of suffragettes, they are often characterised as ugly women (who probably couldn't get a man anyway - why does this sound familiar! Still!). Bad guys were, and still are, often made to look like bad guys. And women who did not fit the ideal of the angel in the house (prostitutes, spinsters, feminists, female authors, fallen women), were often illustrated as ugly

Physiognomy in 19th century illustration - maybe the guy on the left has a fiery temper, harhar.

So...what the hell did these moral crusaders do when it came to Grendel's mother and translating her for a modern audience? Well, they could not have that blasphemy going unchecked (A woman? Fighting? Killing? Never!), so the easiest way to deal with it is *BAM*, tell everyone she's a monster and make her reaaaallly ugly!
Who knows if she was actively changed or subconsciously believed to be representative of a monster anyway? Perhaps a bit of both? Don't ask me anyway.

This is something I hope to immerse myself more in, and at the end of the day, it's all a bit of guessing and a bit of speculation. Any other opinions (opposing or otherwise) are very welcome.

In which I continue to defend the mihtige grundwyrgen

Grendel's mother by Virgil Burnett

Yes, I'm back at it, back to defend Grendel's mother's glory - DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR.

In my last defence of Grendel's mother I didn't go into very much detail about a number of terms (partly because of mid-post fatigue and partly because I probably didn't have that much evidence - yet in my heart I knew, I knew, I was right (this is up for speculation of course)).

In general the only scholars who have really looked into Grendel's mother's character and questioned her monstrosity and some of the outlandishly wrong translations that were applied to her (such as "most evil monster" for secg (warrior/hero) by Crossley-Holland - like, wut?), are limited to Christine Alfano, M.W Hennequin, and Signe M Carlson (although she (/he? - someone please confirm this for me!) focuses more on Grendel's character). Sherman Kuhn in his study of aglæca also helped to clear up issues surrounding the monster/hero/formidable one/blahblah disaster there (something I wish to return to again, despite the fact that it has been DONE TO DEATH). 

Anyway, a few terms haven't really been given so much attention as brimwylf, grundwyrgenne and secg so I kind of wanted to return to those words and try make a convincing case for how they are not monstrous terms, despite what translators keep telling us (BTW I found three translators who translated  aglæcwif as it should be - George Jack, Dobbie and Wrenn - unfortunately, all these are glossaries and not full translations - booo). 

I will begin at the point where I began to slack off in this blog post with . . .

wif unhyre (2120) - A few examples of this terms translations are as follows: "ghastly dam" (Heaney), "monstrous woman" (Chickering), "the gruesome she" (Alexander), and "inhuman troll-wife" (Tolkien). Inhuman troll-wife? Really, Tolkien? Not that his dismissal of her is very surprising seen as he completely forgets about her in Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics. 
But if we look at wif unhyre and split it up, we have wif, which is “i. woman, a female person . . . iii. a married woman, a wife . . . iv. a female” (Bosworth-Toller). Of course this dictionary also adds a separate entrance for wif , "a being in the form of a woman", under which we find Grendel's mother as an example, along with a reference to Bald's Leechbook for the charm "For a Sudden Stitch". These wif however, are not actually physical beings, but metaphorical wif. I don't think Grendel's mother really belongs in the same category as beings that don't even have a physical form, and more so beings that do not even exist except in a cute "oh sure that sudden stitch you have is just some little women throwing spears at you", especially when there's not enough evidence for her being something other than human (in mine own opinion). 

Anyway, if we take wif as what it means for every other sense of the word (ie WOMAN), we can move on to unhyre, which is shit tons more complicated. 
It is often used in this case (and other cases) to imply monstrosity, but I believe it actually means "terribleness" or "cruelty" or "ferocity". Because there are many instances where it just would not make sense if it were to mean "monstrous". Unhyre appears in Genesis A to describe Ishmael - Se bið unhyre, orlæggifre, wiðerbreca wera cneorissum – “He shall be rough, warlike, hostile to the races of men” (2287 Mason), or alternatively “He shall be fierce, battle-greedy, and an enemy to the men of his generation, his own kin” (Hostetter). Wouldn't it be fierce feckin' odd if the author of Genesis A was to describe Ishmael as monstrous or ghastly or inhuman or gruesome? Eh, yeaah, it would. 
Aaand, it appears in An Old English Martyrology as unhyran cwelres, cwelres beaing "executioner" - Cruel, terrible, grim, (anything besides monstrous) fits way better here. Unless they were a very open-minded culture and perhaps hired a panotti or maybe even a sciopod. Because yes, although it could mean "monstrous" in the sense that murderers are monstrous, then that also applies for Grendel's mammy. 
Again, the word appears in The Meters of Boethius in Meter 29 – on wintres tid, weder unhiore, “in time of winter, when fierce is weather” (61), as it is translated by Sedgefield. Again, rough, fierce, terrible makes much more sense here.

A page from the OE Genesis in the Junius MS 

It is also handy to look at Icelandic and Old Norse and all the languages that share similarities with Old English, and the Icelandic word uhyrr stands out as a possible relative, itself meaning "frowning" or "unfriendly looking". 
And it's also great to look at its possible antonym, heoru, hyre, or heora, defined as "pleasant gentle or mild" (B-T). It appears in Beowulf on line 1372 (Nis ðæt heoru stow – “that was not a pleasant place”), in Genesis A (Culufre fotum stop on beam hyre – “the gentle bird stepped with her feet on a tree” (Hostetter)). Surely the antonym of "pleasant" or "gentle" would be "unpleasant", "cruel", "awful", "grim" and not "monstrous". 


I think I wrote enough there to last at least however long it takes me to build up the motivation for another post. 'Til then, here are some great medieval manuscript images

Also.....eh....

From Eald to New - University College Cork, June 2014

It is with a hangover and a huge lack of sleep that I want to express what a wonderful time I had at my first conference.

I was somehow roped in to speaking at the From Eald to New conference ("and he never forgave, and he never forgot") which took place at the weekend and spent months before having "Oh christ, no" thoughts whenever it came to mind. However, as of yesterday morning, I don't have to panic again (until the next time).

It was a brilliant experience, I got to meet Hugh Magennis, Heather O'Donoghue and Rory McTurk told me they really liked my paper and I made an eejit of myself in front of Chris Jones! Everyone was absolutely lovely, and I don't think I've spent so much time laughing in a long while, especially at Greg Delanty (a true Cork man), at Niamh's and mine Beowulf fan fiction ideas (Beowulf loves Grendel) and at terribly bad and funny jokes in Tom Barry's and stumbling in my front door at 7am. There was wonderful poetry and equally wonderful papers (even if half of it did just go over my head) and a really great translation workshop by Greg Delanty, Michael Matto and Lahney Preston-Matto, where I realised I have not a poetic atom in my body.

My paper went surprisingly okay (it didn't go according to my dream the night before at least!), and I am now glad (yet also very sad) that it's all over. But at least we have decided to go to Kalamazoo next year (and not just because of the swinging that we hear goes on).

Can translation ever convey the original adequately?

My simple answer is....no!

I think the whole range of translations, along with the articles about these translations, even for Beowulf alone, is proof enough of this. Of course, nobody ever knows when it's a language like Old English, and until someone invents a time machine and returns to the Anglo-Saxon era, then we never will, and even then, it would still be impossible to truly convey the exact meaning and feel of the original. And who knows how much you'd even learn when the most readily available drinking source was ale.

Source

When reading translations of modern literature, like Haruki Murakami or Mikhail Bulgakov, I actually spend a lot of time thinking how I will never know if this is how the author wanted to convey it exactly (so deep)...and I know it can never be perfect, for the simple reason that languages are different and have different sounds, and cultures are different and have different meanings and values. The English translation of Norwegian Wood, for example, is beautifully written, but it's not going to sound anything like the Japanese. How can I know myself, that that is what Murakami wanted to convey exactly. This is especially true for works that put a lot of emphasis on words and use particularly poetic language - yes, we can recreate the alliteration, but then we lose the exact meaning - so which do we pick - we lose something in the end. When I read translations, I often think that yes, this is so-and-so's ideas and story, but it's not necessarily their language. Does that ruin these books for me? Not really, but it is something that is in the back of my mind. First world problems, eh?

As Jay Rubin, the translator of Murakami's English publications states: "When you read Haruki Murakami, you're reading me, at least ninety-five percent of the time". And at that, Rubin has the advantage of being able to discuss translating with the author, whereas for things like Beowulf, we can't exactly phone up the scribe and ask him "what exactly did you mean on line 1294? Oh, is that so? Cheers lad, nice one". Imagine how more accurate Beowulf translations would be if the author was still alive? And yet it would still not be able to accurately convey everything because, at the end of the day, if we can't accurately translate a godamn author who is alive and living in the 21st century (even if it is Japan, and we all know how weird Japan is), then what hope do we have? Nada. And at least if we want to read the 'most accurate' translation of Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita or Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment, we can look up the hundreds of threads and blog posts about it, and yet, even when that language is still in use today, we can still never be satisfied.

The much awaited Tolkien translation, to be released this May. Yipee

Some translators of Beowulf may decide that taking the route that recreates the metre and the alliteration is the best, most accurate way to go, others will decide that a literal prose translation is the best way to go. Others may try to find a middle-ground. But in the end, nobody is really going to give us Beowulf as it was received by the Anglo-Saxons.

No matter what way someone goes about it, there's always going to be some criticism of something being lost in the process. It can't be faithful in every single way - it cannot maintain all alliteration, all metrical idiosyncracies, all syntax etc, while still maintaining the most accurate and literal translation of the language itself. As a French critic once said, translations are like women, they can be beautiful or faithful, but not both (certainly, he was full of crap). As a female, I like to think of beautiful but unfaithful translations as the Jude Law's of translation.

And even if there was some way of doing this, we still cannot understand the poem how Anglo-Saxons would have. We simply don't have the same culture or beliefs anymore (although maybe if you lived in one of those modern day Viking communes in Norway you might have a better understanding!). A good example, as John D. Niles points out, is the problem of the word cuþ, "known". He asks "how can a translator express the emotive force" that this word had "for an Old English speaker, who seems to have viewed the unknown as something terrifying and who placed exceptional value on the comforts of familiar surroundings". For a culture that (most likely)believed in dragons and panotti and blemmyae, the "known" had a completely different significance!

Even if we think of this issue from an Irish point of view and look at Irish writers like Flann O'Brien (Brian O'Nolan) for instance, whose writing has a particularly Irish feel about it (the syntax, the humour). Is it possible for another culture to 'get' it as much as an Irish person would 'get' it? I'm not so convinced. 

Good feckin' luck to ya

Niles, John D. “Rewriting Beowulf: The task of Translation.” College English 55.8 (1993): 858-878. Print.

PhD, or Goodbye Outside World

This will definitely be me

So, next week I start my PhD, and so, the end of my life as a free-woman shall ensue. There will pretty much be no changes to my blog seen as I'm concentrating on Beowulf and modern media, but I will be expanding my interests to Beowulf and Grendel, and not just the love of my life, Grendel's Mother. I am kind of wondering what the hell I have gotten myself into and if I'll get out of this alive, but fingers crossed I will get through this and emerge as someone who will hopefully be able to get a job, hopefully in my area of interest - best case scenario.

I started this blog for myself, as a means of trying to throw around ideas for this PhD notion I'd got into this head of mine, and cringe at my attempts at humour, and it has really helped me, and has grown into an empire with TWO followers (they're not even people I know personally, wow!). I would like to thank my friends who read my posts for god-knows-why reason, and I especially want to say a big thank you to Angelina Jolie for generating most of my page views...oh, and Eowyn's boobs of course!:

A screen print of the search keywords in the last month

Odin-speed

Beowulf: An Unexpected Journey

Having went to see The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug the other night, and only recently returning from the country of Tolkien's birth, I guess it's only natural that this post should concern him and The Hobbit's links with Beowulf. I have previously mentioned some things in a previous post, but let's make another one, sure why not lads.

Despite some dodgy CGI at times (I really can't understand how they can create such an amazing dragon, yet at times the horses look like they are taken out of Zemickis's Beowulf (see what I did there!)), and despite the fact that it will never be as great as Lord of the Rings, the film was really good. Surprisingly, I even liked the introduction of Tauriel to try and somewhat lessen the sausage-fest that The Hobbit is. And Kili, the obligatory exceedingly attractive dwarf (Ireland, I'm proud of you!). I enjoyed that part too.

An illustration which would suit either Beowulf or The Hobbit.
It's actually from a Beowulf book by Anke Eissmann

The most obvious link between The Hobbit and Beowulf is of course the dragon! In a way the dragon scenes are climaxes of both stories (although The Hobbit ends with a huge battle, it's fair to say that the dragon is the big thing in the story). Most notable, I think is the fact that the dragon is woken by the theft of a cup, by Bilbo in The Hobbit, and by some other eejit in Beowulf. As well as this, both dragons' lairs are entered by a secret passage: in Beowulf "there was a hidden passage, unknown to men" (Heaney's translation), whilst in The Hobbit, the dwarves (I guess you could extend this entrance as being "unknown to men" also, seen as dwarves technically aren't men) enter by the secret passage, revealed only at a certain time - the last light of Durin's Day. After the theft of treasure from both dragons' barrows, they both go absolutely ape and enact revenge on the surrounding land - from this, we can deduce that dragons have the emotional capacity of a 5 year old child. As in Beowulf, it is not the protagonist that kills the dragon in The Hobbit, but a relatively minor (but very honourable) character - Bard. Both dragons end up in a pretty similar grave also - "they pitched the dragon over the cliff-top, let tide's flow and backwash take the treasure-minder" (Beowulf), and for Smaug; "he would never again return to his golden bed, but was stretched cold as stone, twisted upon the floor of the shallows". Sleep with the fishies.  

Another thing, which I was thinking of, is The Hobbit's influence on Beowulf adaptations - it is possible that the dragon from John Gardner's Grendel was made with considerable influence from Smaug, who unlike the Beowulf dragon, actually speaks, and appears to be able to hold a pretty decent conversation!

Grendel, by John Howe

Although a bit sketchy, there has been some comparisons between Grendel and Gollum. Although Gollum has a shit ton more brains and charisma than Grendel does, it is interesting to note some similarities. In Beowulf it is said that Grendel is a "grim demon", dwelling "among the banished monsters", a descendent of Cain (from Cain also sprang ogres (orcs?), giants (perhaps our friend, the cave-troll, from the Mines of Moria?), and elves...although it's pretty clear that Tolkien's elves aren't seen as Cain's clan - nobody as pretty as Legolas could be!). It is clear from both stories that both Grendel and Gollum are outcasts, both live in caves and both are pretty ugly. The point about Cain is also very interesting, because, as we learn in Lord of the Rings, Gollum, back when he was still known as Sméagol, killed Déagol (his relative) in order to take the ring. And while we know Gollum was once, many many years beforehand, a hobbit of sorts, there is also perhaps a human link for Grendel in his connection with Cain. 

Numerous other links exists between both stories

• Beorn as a reworking of Beowulf himself. Perhaps? Perhaps. Both are proud and strong. And as seems to be happening all the time in Beowulf (isn't it a surprise he had time to do all his killing!), Beorn's home is full of feasting and story-telling. Futhermore, the name Beorn can have two different meanings - "man" or "warrior" from the Old English beorn, or "bear" from the Old Norse björn. On the other hand "Beowulf", means "bee-wolf", which is a kenning for "bear"! 

Beorn, by John Howe

• As in Beowulf with Hrunting, the swords in The Hobbit are given names, like Sting, Glamdring, and Orcrist, depending on their history. 
• As mentioned in this blog, a parallel can be seen when the dwarves are awaiting Bilbo's escape from the goblins' cave, and Beowulf's thanes awaiting his return from Grendel's Mother's mere.
• Beowulf has 14 companions (so 15 in all). In The Hobbit, there are 13 dwarves, Bilbo Baggins making the 14th member. And Gandalf can be considered a 15th. 

Source

A Realistic Beowulf

Source

On the whole, Beowulf isn't exactly a very realistic story....There's (apparent) sea monsters, a dragon, monsters (that depends on your stance on Grendel and his mommy), and various displays of superhuman strength and endurance. So, it's pretty interesting to find a retelling of Beowulf's adventures that are realistic (to an extent!).


Michael Crichton is known for his rational approach to fantastical stories, most notably in his 1990 novel that was made into the best film ever, Jurassic Park, where Richard Attenborough fills in the incomplete dinosaur DNA with amphibian DNA (unfortunately/fortunately this won't actually work).

Before Crichton was escalating the hopes of dinosaur fanatics, he was exploring Beowulf and coming up with ways in which it could really be explained...well...probably not really, as despite the ideas in his book being rational, they are still rather far-fetched. 

In 1976 Crichton released Eaters of the Dead: The Manuscript of Ibn Fadlan, Relating His Experiences with the Northmen in A.D. 922 (later made into The 13th Warrior, starring Puss in Boots). Crichton constructs the novel so that it imitates a real historical document, professing to be the chronicled expedition of Ibn Fadlan, who was an actual 10th Century Arabic explorer, known for his descriptions of the Volga Vikings. 

Parts of Ibn Fadlan's actual chronicles are present in the first few chapters of Eaters of the Dead, and in general it stays pretty close to his manuscript (or so I have read! I do not profess to know much about Ibn Fadlan's actual antics) up until chapter 4, where the story gradually turns into a retelling of Beowulf, and where Fadlan, who is originally sent to the king of the Volga Bulgars, is persuaded into joining a mad (aren't they always) group of Northmen, led by Buliwyf (an obvious play on Beowulf). Their quest is to destroy a "dread and nameless terror, which all the people are powerless to oppose". This terror, turns out to be a cannibalistic tribe known as the Wendol. 

Wendol, is surely both a reference to Grendel and to the Vandals, an early East Germanic tribe - nicely done, Michael, nicely done. The Wendol are described in Ibn as being "manlike in every respect, but not as any man upon the face of the earth". They are "short...broad and squat, and hairy on all parts of their bodies save their palms, the soles of their feet, and their faces" They had large prominent jaws, with large heads. Now, at the end of Cricthon's book, there is a fake appendix, fake footnotes, and fake sources, all to add to the idea of this being an actual real account (but a fictional real account...). So, at the end of the novel, these fake researchers are trying to explain Ibn Fadlan's accounts. So, we are given a realistic explanation for the Wendol. The Appendix describes them as being "suggestive of Neanderthal anatomy", which although should have vanished 30-40,000 years prior to Ibn Fadlan's accounts, were still in existence. In another one of these fake reports, "Goodrich", a "paleontologist" describes Ibn Fadlan's tendency to overstate facts and differences, suggesting that the Wendol may just have been uncivilized Homo Sapiens, whose cultural differences were interpreted as physical differences. Well...that was confusing!

An image from the beautifully illustrated version of the novel

The next "monster" we come across is the "Korgon", or the dragon, later revealed to be Wendol carrying flames on horseback. Here, we are also told of a figure on horseback who had the head of a bear - perhaps a suggestion that the Wendol were berserkr (translated as "bearskin"), a type of Norse Warrior known for their war frenzy, their animal-skin attire and their general tomfoolery. Of course, it must be noted that our trust in Ibn Fadlan's accounts and descriptions is to be taken with a pinch of salt, as earlier in the novel, he describes "sea monsters" (a nice reference to those that Beowulf fights) that pass their boat, "spitting a fountain, and raising a giant tail split in two". Of course, we say "Duhhh, it's a whale, idiot!", but we must remember, this is an account of an Arab explorer, set in the 10th century, and although it's unlikely that they hadn't heard of whales, it is a nice touch to make us wary of Ibn's accounts. 

One of the Wendol, in The 13th Warrior

And now we come to my favourite bit....the bit where we talk about Grendel's Mother (AWWWW YEAAAH)! For the majority of the novel her existence is only hinted upon. One scene shows the discovery of a stone figure resembling a woman's torso - "there was no head, no arms, and no legs; only the torso with a great swollen belly and, above that, two pendulous swollen breasts", a "crude and ugly" figure which causes the Norsemen to physically puke violently (Breasts? Bleurggh!). Of course, this is an obvious reference to both the Venus of Hohle Fels and the Willendorf Venus, which are both associated with prehistoric times, and are therefore hinting at the humane although primitive nature of the Wendol. 

Venus of Hohle Fels and the Willendorf Venus

The figure in The 13th Warrior

When we do get to finally meet the Mother of the Wendol Ibn Fadlan assumes she is female "but if she was female, [he] saw no sign, for she was old to the point of being sexless". She is described as being surrounded by snakes (perhaps a reference to Medusa, a figure often associated with Grendel's Mother and dangerous women in general). Unlike in the original poem she does not appear to have abnormal strength, and instead uses a poisoned pin on Buliwyf. 

Unlike many other adaptations, the Wendol here are not shown with any sympathy. The Wendol's Mother shows no anger over the death of her numerous kin, and it is implied that it is her who has been instigating these attacks on King Rothgar's people. The matriarchal society is seen as threatening and vomit-inducing, compared to the Scandinavians patriarchal society in which the women are seen as caretakers and consorts. Some Kristevan themes can be seen throughout the novel: Through the worship of the female mother, the Wendol are left barbaric and uncivilized, while the Northmen, who have pushed the maternal away have evolved into more refined civilians. Julia Kristeva suggests that in order to acquire language and align itself with the symbolic system, the subject must push the mother and the maternal body away. Similar themes can be seen in John Gadner's Grendel, where Grendel only finds language through pushing away from his mother and her primitive state.


Hopefully that wasn't so confusing! Goodbye, I am off to watch Channing Tatum.

Rape and abduction in Anglo-Saxon England

Source: progressivepatriots.com

I'm sure most people will remember that pretty controversial and outrageous statement that Republican (aren't they always!) Todd Akin said about rape victims being able to avoid pregnancy -

"If it's a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down". 

Yes, Todd, I'm sure you got an A in Biology. Funnily enough, with the pro-life folk always talking about abortion being something from the Dark Ages, this view that raped women can somehow prevent pregnancy is in fact from the Dark Ages! Maybe that's why many are considered to be White Anglo-Saxon Protestants.

According to Julia Coleman, in her chapter "Rape in Anglo-Saxon England", the earliest definition of rape in the Anglo-Saxon period can be found in the ninth century laws of King Alfred (remember, the guy who let the cakes burn). Here are some facts:

• The rape of a non-virgin wasn't treated to be as serious as the rape of a virgin
• Because marital sex was seen as a dutiful act to a spouse, it is likely that non-consnsual sex in a marriage wasn't seen as rape - unfortuantely many people still think this way
• Abduction, elopement and adultery are also lumped in with rape

And what was the punishment for what was then considered rape? Well, mostly just a fine to the victim or her husband or father, but it could be as serious as castration in the case of a rape by a slave.

From another source, there is the likelihood that compensation was offered to the victims (or their "owners"), "ranging from 5s for seizing her by the breast to 60s for rape [...] The fine for removing a nun from a nunnery is also 120s, divided between the king and the ecclesiastical authorities [...] Compensation for rape is reduced by half if the victim was not a virgin " (Early English Laws). All this is presumably in shillings (20 shillings to a pound). Some other sources give different amounts for compensation. 

A screen shot from Corine Saunders' Rape and Ravishment in the Literature of Medieval England

In post-conquest England, after the Norman invasion, it is notable that there appears to be no mention of the victim's or the rapist's social class - whether you were a slave or a Lord, your genitals were getting the chop!

"Sausies for din-dins!"

    

As Coleman states, it wasn't only the woman's dignity that was affected - it also affected the men in her life's pride, as they feel lessened by the fact that they were unable to protect her. This can also be seen on a larger scale, with reports from Ancient Greece up until present day - rape is a pretty common consequence of warfare. "War rape" is more than just about the physical act, and goes beyond the terrorising of the woman (or man) who is being victimised. As Susan Brownmiller says:

(R)ape by a conqueror is compelling evidence of the conquered's status of masculine impotence. Defense of women has long been a hallmark of masculine pride, as possession of women has been a hallmark of masculine success. Rape by a conquering soldier destroys all remaining illusions of power and property for men of the defeated side.

Anglo-Saxon England, being a realm which was involved in regular conflict with the Danes and later the Normans, is no exception to this, and unfortunately women were often used as a tool to demonstrate the taking of the country to the men.


Sources:
http://www.law-lib.utoronto.ca/Diana/fulltext/tomp.htm
Rape in Anglo-Saxon England
Rape and Ravishment in the Literature of Medieval England
The Semiotics of Rape in Renaissance English Literature

Sympathy for Eve

One of the texts I found really interesting when doing my undergrad was the Old English Genesis, especially the Genesis B section, because of its pretty unusual and unconventional depictions of God, Satan and Eve when compared to other accounts of the fall of angels and the temptation of Adam and Eve, both from the Anglo-Saxon period and other eras.

The Old English Genesis (A and B) can be found in the Junius 11 manuscript (also referred to as the Caedmon Manuscript), dating to about 930-1000AD. This manuscript also contains Daniel; Exodus; and Christ and Satan. The Old English Genesis is a translation (or transliteration when talking about Genesis B) of an Old Saxon version of the text.

 As an example of this poem's unconventionality (is this even a word?), here is an example of one of Satan's soliloquies:

‘There is no need at all for me to have a master. I can work just as many

marvels with my hands.I have plenty of power to furnish a goodlier throne,

one more exalted in heaven.Why must I wait upon his favour

and defer to him in such fealty? […]So it does not seem to me fitting

that I need flatter God at all for any advantage. No longer will I be

his subordinate.’ – Genesis B 278-291

Reading this, Satan seems to be coming across with some fair points, right? Seems like a sound enough guy! And to further top this off, the fact that God throws him and his followers into hell like an angry toddler, kind of makes us think again about who the good guy is...and why is he being such a dick?!

So that leaves us to move on to Eve, who gets off really lightly compared to other depictions of her. Rather than damning her, the poet seems to offer her a lot of sympathy, almost going out of his way to express how it wasn't her fault:

Yet she did it out of loyal intent. She did not know

that there were to follow so many hurts and 

terrible torments for humankind because she

took to heart what she heard in the counsellings

of that abhorrent messenger; but rather she thought

that she was gaining the favour of the heavenly King - Genesis B

Most importantly, this pleading for Eve's lack of blame veers toward heresy. In Genesis B, it is not out of disobedience, but of of "loyal intent" and innocent ignorance that Eve eats the fruit. This would suggest that the poet seems to be almost disagreeing with God's judgement and punishment of her and basically we've all been suffering because of God's lousy judgement of her. 

nom nom nom

Of course, it's nice that the poet is being all sympathetic towards Eve (and the Devil), but it must also be said that he is also a bit of a sexist...or more than a bit. Throughout Genesis B, Eve is described as being "lovely" and "beautiful", yet her intelligence is never commented on, while Adam is described as "self-determined" and is clear-sighted and independent enough to see through the 'messenger's' (in this version, Satan sends a messenger to tempt Adam and Eve, rather than go himself) temptations. So basically, what he's trying to say is that Eve is lovely and all, and a sight to look at, but basically, the lights are on, but nobody's home. Eve, like all of our sex, has "the frail mind of women" and does not think to question the angel/serpent, but takes the apple without too much thought. Lastly, the idea of "woman as beguiler of man" is evident here, as Adam, who can't resist Eve's "lovely" facade, gives in and takes a bite of the apple - don't you know, (warning, sarcasm alert) men can't help themselves when they are confronted with a sweet face, or a short skirt. Anyway, Adam pretty much blames it all on Eve - what a douche! This author really has us rooting for the traditional baddies!

Grendel's Mother and translators taking the piss

Angelina Jolie as Grendel's Mother in Zemickis' film

This post is going to be like an episode of Scooby Doo, where Grendel's Mother is chasing you around, with her talons and her big ugly head, and then she takes off her monster costume and you realise it's all cool, you and Grendel's Mother aren't that different from each other, and she isn't actually a monster (speaking of which, that Scooby Doo team get a lot of really similar cases).

As I pointed out previously (and if the blog title didn't give it away), I am a Grendel's Mother fan. Furthermore I believe that she isn't a monster, but a misunderstood character who has been wrongly translated into monstrosity.

Why did it happen that she has been turned into a scary, wolf-like, reptilian, troll-thing? Don't ask me, ask the translators who thought sacrificing accuracy for artistic effects or to make Beowulf more heroic or whatever other reasons, was a good idea. And unfortunately the trend has stuck, and everybody just imagines Grendel's Mother as the monster-thing without second thought.

(Disclaimer: These are my opinions. Feel free to continue thinking of Grendel's Mother as a monster....but just so you know, I secretly clench my fists at night at the thought of you)

So, basically, Grendel's Mother has been getting a hard time of it from the very beginning, starting off with translations such as John Mitchell Kemble's 1835 translation, right up to R.M. Liuzza's 2012 translation. While researching for my thesis two years ago, I did an extensive enough search in order to find just one translation that did not demonise Grendel's Mother...but nada. I realised that there was not much point in putting too much faith in any one translation, because, when it comes to ancient languages, it is pretty impossible to interpret them exactly - there will always be some leeway, and there is oftentimes no direct translations of words.

"Big Mother", a Marvel Universe character

Grendel's Mother is first introduced to us on line 1256, where she is named as Grendel's avenger and an ides, aglæcwif (a word that would haunt me for months). This term has a pretty wide variety of translations. Alexander translates it as "monstrous ogress", Heaney as "monstrous hell-bride", "witch of the sea" (Osborn), Gummere as "monster of a woman", and there are many more similar interpretations from others. Now, the thing is, Beowulf is the only text that contains the word aglæcwif. In fancy terms, it's hapax legomenon, so it can't be compared against any other texts, which is a bit of a pain in the ass. BUT, the word can be divided into its roots, aglæca and wif. Interestingly enough, aglæca, along with other compounds containing this word, is used several times throughout Beouwulf in reference to Grendel, the dragon, Sigemund (a hero of old) and Beowulf himself. When used in relation to Beowulf, it has been translated as "gallant man" (1512, Heaney), "warrior" (Gummere) and "fierce commander" (2592, Heaney). So...how do they get "monstrous ogress" and such terms out of a word that is otherwised used as "fighter, valliant warrior, dangerous opponent, one who struggles fiercely" (Sherman Kuhn)?? Does it not make more sense, and is it not a whole lot more accurate to translate it as "female-warrior" perhaps, seen as wif simply means "woman"? And although it is often used with negative connotations (eg in Juliana, when describing the devil), it has also been found in a description of Bede by Byrthferth of Ramsay, where he is called aglæca lareow, "awe-inspiring teacher" (Orchard). 

It's not fair to say that the poet intended aglæcwif to have negative connotations, and it is unreasonable to translate it as "warrior" or "hero" when it comes to Beowulf, but as "monstrous ogress"  or "monster woman" (Chickering) when it comes to Grendel's Mother. I will also point out that ides comes before aglæcwif, a word "always used in reference to female humans, never animals, and usually reserved for noble women” (Porter). As ides aglæcwif is the first term used to describe Grendel's Mother, it of course influences how we view her for the rest of the poem. Unfortunately, we're not introduced to her as "female-warrior" or "warrior lady", and from the very outset we are encouraged to view her as a monster. Boo. 

The cover of Seamus Heaney's Beowulf translation

I won't go into so much detail on the other terms, because we'll be here all day, and I'm suffering from a truly impressive hangover and I want to go lie out in the sun like a lizard (speaking of which, I wonder if this is what Grendel's Mother in Gunnarsson's Beowulf and Grendel must do). So I'll just lay out the necessary points. 

• Atolan clommum, found on line 1502, has been translated as "terrile hooks" (Alexander) and "horrible claws" (Chickering), whereas it can also be translated as "terrible clasp", which does not necessarily imply any crazy physical deviations. 
• Laþan fingrum, also, which is literally translated as "hateful fingers" has been translated as "savage talons" (Heaney) and "claws" by Chickering. These people are really out to get her!
• Brimwylf, lines 1506 and 1599, has been translated as "wolf of the waves" (Gummere) and "sea-wolf" by Kemble. Although these translations aren't incorrect, brimwylf does not necessarily mean that Grendel's Mother is a literal sea wolf, or even resembles one physically. It may simply function as an epithet, which isn't so far-fetched as wulf or wylf is often seen in other cases to denote warriors...the really obvious one being Beowulf himself! "Bee-wolf" or "wolf of the bees" does not mean that Beowulf is literally a stripy, flying, wolf! Another example is in The Battle of Maldon, where the invading Vikings are called wælwulfas (96), meaning "slaughter-wolves", and likewise, we know that the Vikings weren't actually wolves, so having wulf or wylf as a name, does not mean you are a physical wolf...or that you are to be perceived negatively. In fact, the whole reason the "wolf" compound was used in general, was most likely because of an "early admiration for the wolf" (“wulf” def. I. Bosworth-Toller), and so far from being a derogatory term, it is most like that the poet was using this to emphasise her skills in battle.
• Our next word, grundwyrgenne (1518) has been translated as "monster of the deep" (Kemble), "swamp-thing from hell" (Heaney, you crazy dog), and "the abyss's curse (Morgan). It is also defined in the Clark-Hall dictionary as "water-wolf". Grund is obvious - ground, earth. But wyrgenne is where the problem lies. Wearg is defined in the Bosworth-Toller Anglo-Saxon Dictionary as “I. of human beings, a villain, felon, scoundrel, criminal . . .  II. of other creatures, a monster, malignant being, evil spirit”. So...and I know many disagree....seeing as there isn't exactly any solid proof (just translations) that Grendel's Mother isn't human, the second definition just doesn't really seem solid enough. And although there may be some confusion with the Old Norse cognate vargr, meaning both "outlaw" and "wolf", it must be noted that other instances of wearg are not translated as "wolf"...so why Grendel's Mother? Exactly, it shouldn't be. 
• Secg: On line 1378 this can be found, and has many colourful interpretations, like "sin-flecked being" (Gummere) and "most evil monster" (Crosley-Holland). Buuuut, secg is also used for the male characters in the poem, and guess what, it doesn't seem to mean "most evil monster" in those instances, but rather "warrior" or "prince" and even "hero"(Heaney). Sorry guys, ye gotta try harder. 
• Wif unhyre (2120), literally “awful woman” is translated as “ghastly dam” (Heaney). 
• Handbanan (1330), “slayer-by-hand” is translated by Alexander as “bloodthirsty monster”. 
• Mere mihtig, which appears directly after grundwyrgenne, literally “mighty sea-woman” has been translated by Heaney as “the tarn hag” and by Morgan as “the great sea-demon-woman” (whut??).
• Heo (1292), which quite literally and simply means “she”, is translated as “hell-dam” by Heaney and “monster” by Crossley-Holland. 
• 
  

If that isn't enough proof (of sorts, seen as we can't exactly ask the poet or any of his contemporaries) then I don't know what to do. 

Of course, I haven't mentioned any of the descendants of Cain hooha, but some other time I will get around to that.

Works Cited and some references for those who are interested in reading further (I'm totally just covering my ass):

Alexander, Michael, tran. Beowulf: a Verse Translation. London: Penguin, 1973. Print.

Alfano, C. “The Issue of Feminine Monstrosity: A Reevaluation of Grendel’s Mother.” Comitatus: A Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies 23.1 (1992): 1-16. Print.

“The Battle of Maldon.” The Labyrinth. Georgetown University. 2007. Web. 9 Aug. 2012.

 Bosworth-Toller Anglo-Saxon Dictionary. 2010. Web. 9 Apr. 2012.

 Chickering, Howell D., tran. Beowulf: A Dual-Language Edition. Bilingual. New York: Anchor, 2006. Print.

Clark-Hall, J. R. A Concise Anglo-Saxon Dictionary. Virginia: Wilder Publications, 2011. Print.

Crossley-Holland, Kevin, tran. Beowulf. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1999. Print.

Cynewulf. Juliana. Ed. Rosemary Woolf. Exeter: U of Exeter P, 1993. Print.

Gummere, Frances B., tran. Beowulf. Florida: Red and Black Publishers, 2007. Print.

Heaney, Seamus, tran. Beowulf: A New Translation. New ed. London: Faber and Faber, 2002. Print.

Hennequin, M. W. “We’ve Created a Monster: The Strange Case of Grendel’s Mother.” English Studies 89.5 (2008): 503–523. Print.

Kemble, John Mitchell, tran. Beowulf: A Translation of the Anglo-Saxon Poem of Beowulf. London: William Pickering, 1837. Google Books. Web. 14 Jun. 2012.

Klaeber, Frederick, trans. Robert D. Fulk, ed. Klaeber’s Beowulf. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 2008. Print.

Morgan, Edwin, tran. Beowulf. Exeter: Carcanet, 2002. Print

Orchard, Andy. Pride and Prodigies: Studies in the Monsters of the Beowulf-Manuscript. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 2003. Print.

Oswald, Dana M., Monsters, Gender and Sexuality in Medieval English Literature. Suffolk: Boydell and Brewer, 2010. Google Books. Web. 5 Jun. 2012.

Porter, Dorothy Carr. “The Social Centrality of Women in Beowulf.” The Heroic Age. 2001. Web. 9 Apr. 2012.

My opinions regarding Grendel's Mother

Seeing that my blog title is as it is, maybe the subject of Grendel's Mother is a good place to start. This was the subject of my MA thesis, so I've done my research and watched all the crappy films that come with it (and let's not get started on the absolute rubbish (well, this 'Josh' fellow doesn't seem to think so, but that's what friends are for, eh?) that was camouflaged as literature).

I am an unapologetic fan of Grendel's Mother - I see her as a powerful and role-transcending woman (note how I say "woman", and not "sea-hag" or "monstrous ogress"). I feel that she has been given an extremely hard doing over the years, and has been incorrectly portrayed in many of the hundreds of translations of Beowulf, along with her appearances in literature, comics, film and TV (with few exceptions!).

From the outset, it would seem that the figure of Grendel's Mother just hasn't really attracted much attention - her scenes in the poem are often seen as fillers, as irrelevant , or unconnected with the rest of the poem, or seen as merely a transition between Beowulf's fights with Grendel and the dragon. Some critics, like J.R.R Tolkien (Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics), for instance, seem to have read a copy of the poem that's missing quite a number of pages, as they appear to have forgotten about Grendel's Mother. In fact, Tolkien appears to pretty much ignore all the female characters in the poem, transforming Beowulf into some sort of exclusively-male poem (obviously many still view it as so).
Why does he ignore Grendel's Mother? Is it because she's female? It's hardly because she isn't a capable foe - in fact, she puts up quite a fight, and puts her historically much more famous son to shame as far as I'm concerned. As it turns out, I can't answer why Tolkien ignores Grendel's Mother, or why so many other critics brush her out of the way and concentrate on the apparently more important men in the poem, but I can throw out some guesses in due course.

To liven things up, here are some re-imaginings of Grendel's Mother, in art and media, to get an idea of how the majority seem to view her:

Angelina Jolie as Grendel's Mother - complete with gold paint and stiletto-feet

Did you know: Grendel's Mother played the troll from the Mines of Moria in The Fellowship of the Ring...well you do now

Two mouths. Cool

da fug is this?

From Gareth Hinds' comic version. I honestly loved the artwork in this, but didn't love Grendel's Mother's sagging chest :(

So...uh...yeah. Although, out of these, her portrayal in the 2007 Beowulf by Zemickis, where she is played by Angelina Jolie is probably the most accurate, in a way (fun fact: only the face is Jolie's. Grendel's Mother's hot body is actually played by Rachel Berstein, swimwear model, cause y'know, Angelina's body just isn't what anybody wants to see - but this is an issue for another day). Why? Because, at least here she looks somewhat human (minus the gold and the tail), disregarding when she turns into that...thing...seen in the second last picture, which kind of looks like it started off life when it burst through John Hurt's stomach.

Zemickis is obviously an Alien fan

I guess this is where I state my views on Grendel's Mother (provided you haven't already guessed) - I do not believe that she was intended to be a monster (or "swamp-thing" or "sea-hag" for that matter!). I believe she is, plain and simple, a woman, because, in my humble opinion, the original Old English just does not translate that way. "So, what", you say, "she's just, like, some really strong woman who happens to live in a cave and almost kills Beowulf? Haw haw, yeah right". YES. PRETTY MUCH. And I plan to state my case in a coming blog post, and then probably go on to nitpick every media adaptation of her.