Every Beowulf an Original

Every Beowulf an Original:

An Analysis of Two Beowulf Translations and Their Postmodern Elements

           

            Probably the most interesting element about Beowulf is that the modern reader cannot read the poem with new eyes.  What is fascinating is that a poem, the original composition of which scholars cannot date, in a single manuscript which has been so badly damaged,  has generated so many interpretations in its various translations that one cannot be as close to the text as would be necessary to have a proper reading and understanding of it, such that the poet would have desired and only his immediate audience may have achieved.  But the mystery of the poem also provides its greatest element: it now exists in multiple translations, each very much different, each with a specific audience in mind, and each filling in gaps in the poem as the translator sees fit.  The poem in a sense exists outside itself, outside of time, and thus the modern audience can revel in both the frustration of figuring out what it all means and the joy of approaching the text in so many ways through translation as to keep it fresh; indeed, each reread of the same translation can alone effectuate these feelings, and they are furthered when considering a number of translations.  What this allows, then, is a text that is postmodern in its nature.  The poem is essentially living after the end or in ruins; it is untimely, multitemporal, and polychronic simultaneously; it exists in so many translations that its ontological and semantic nature is skewed.  Beowulf is necessarily a postmodern text, and when considering the poem in translation, each offers a new, vibrant reading that is equally as valid- with some qualifications, of course- as all the others, reinventing the poem for the reader each time and indeed existing as more than a translation, and rather as an individual poem in its own right.

            Two translations were published recently at relatively the same time, one on each side of the century mark: R.M. Liuzza's Beowulf: A New Verse Translation in 1999 and Seamus Heaney's Beowulf: A Verse Translation in 2001, and shortly after, reviews of each were published and often by the same critic.  In general, each version of Beowulf received its due, but the recognition of the differences quickly came into view.  Heather O'Donoghue, in her review in Translation and Literature, noted that "comparisons have indeed been inevitable, but not necessarily odious, because these two productions could hardly be more different in their objectives and achievements.  Though he would probably not claim it, Heaney has provided precisely the substitute for or the re-creation of the original poem which Liuzza disavows " (250).  Before addressing and attempting to further the reviews in scope, however, I think it is necessary to address the idea that the translation of an untimely poem is really an original poem in itself and to offer a relatively thorough close reading on a dynamic section of each text so that it can be referenced in discussing the postmodern Beowulf.  The selected text for the close reading is lines 86-98 in both the original Old English and the two translations.  Certain words from the Old English will be analyzed, and the following selection is provided for reference:

Ðā se ellengǣst earfoðlīce

þrāge geþolode, sē þe in þȳstrum bād,

þæt hē dōgora gehwām drēam gehȳrde

hlūdne in healle; þǣr wæs hearpan swēg,

swutol sang scopes.  (ll. 86-90)

This passage is obviously translated differently in Liuzza's version than it is in Heaney's, but what is interesting is that in some ways it differs greatly and in others on a smaller level.  The lines are those in which the reader is first introduced to Grendel, just before he attacks Heorot.

            The first close reading will be on Liuzza's translation since it was the first to be published.  Liuzza translates the lines as follows:

A bold demon who waited in darkness

wretchedly suffered all the while,

for every day he heard the joyful din

loud in the hall, with the harp’s sound,

the clear song of the scop.  (ll. 86-90)

In these lines the reader is immediately confronted with two juxtapositions.  First, there is a clear division of darkness outside and light inside the mead hall.  Second, the distinction is drawn between the suffering of a demon and the joy of a people.  Grendel, yet to be identified in the poem, but for the immediate purpose I will refer to him by name, is set up here as an outsider.  He waits in darkness outside of Heorot, suffering at the joyful sounds he hears coming from inside.  Just as Grendel is said to be a descendent of Cain, here this is underscored and he is marked as an "other," like Cain was marked by God in the biblical account.  There exists a clear division between the monster outside and the humans inside and these five lines work well to establish the conflict that runs through the rest of the poem.  Just as Grendel is "separate" and "other" in the first half of the poem, so is the dragon in the second half.  When the two sides meet, they clash hard.

            Most notable here, though, is the diction that Liuzza employs, a few words of which seem significant.  In J.R. Clark Hall's A Concise Anglo-Saxon Dictionary, "ellengǣst" is defined as a "powerful demon" (Clark Hall).  Liuzza, however, translates the word in line 86 as "bold demon."  Here Liuzza takes poetic license, but the alteration from "powerful" to "bold" is significant.  The shift in the meaning is from a capability to exercise power, strength, or force, whether realized or not, to an internalized character trait.  The emphasis is not on Grendel as only a force with which to be reckoned, capable of destruction, but is rather on Grendel as audacious, waiting, the reader is told, in darkness.  It seems like there is a certain admiration that the reader is supposed to feel when considering Grendel as bold, and the use of the word also seems to add to the suspense of the situation.

            At first glance, "wretchedly suffered" in line 87 seems redundant and the adjective seems unnecessary.  But again, like with the adjective "bold" above, the word "wretchedly" gets to a deeper meaning of how Grendel suffered.  Liuzza could well have translated " geþolode" as simply suffered, as the Bosworth-Toller dictionary would allow "geþolian" to be translated, but the verb carries with it connotations of endurance and sustainability as well (Bosworth).  To suffer is different than to face a hardship, and Liuzza underscoring how exactly Grendel suffers is not only notable, but appropriate.  Instead of the superficial meaning that may appear in a cursory reading of these lines, that is, that Grendel suffered greatly, or at least more than the degree to which one may normally suffer, which in itself is varying, Liuzza here provides his reader with another characteristic of Grendel himself.  For Grendel to suffer "wretchedly," he must have within himself an element that is wretch-like.  By Liuzza using this term to describe how Grendel suffered, he shows his reader the agony that rages inside of him.  The suffering is more than a trial, and is rather a miserable distress that engages Grendel's whole being, and that is the picture that Liuzza's use of "wretchedly" paints for the reader.  Like Liuzza's use of "bold" in the previous line that served in part to conjure emotions of admiration, his use here of "wretchedly" also carries with it undertones that suggest to the reader the possibility of sympathizing with Grendel.  The reader does not know the back story of his suffering, and especially at that of hearing the "joyful din," so the sympathetic sensibilities here are perhaps justified.

            The "joyful din" is the last element at which to look, for brevity's sake, as an exhaustive analysis of the language even in these five lines would be daunting.  The din that Grendel hears, according to the Oxford American Dictionary (OAD), is a "prolonged loud and unpleasant noise" ("Din").  But the noise in Liuzza's translation is that of a joyful noise.  The explanation lies in that the din is called joyful by the scop, so to his ear it is pleasing, but to Grendel it is a cause for suffering.  The joy and lightheartedness that the reader imagines inside Heorot, that of music and stories and the pleasantries that accompany mead-drinking, while pleasing to the human ear is anathema to Grendel; he cannot take it.  This, too, speaks to the inwardness and individual characteristics of Grendel in that the reader can sympathize.  For example, if one imagines perhaps a child learning an instrument and playing his or her way through a piece of music, occasionally hitting a wrong note, that one note in a joyous song can send a piercing chill through those who hear it, while leaving the young musician unaffected.  So here too the reader can sense the discomfort that resides in Grendel.  All the language in these five lines that concerns Grendel appeals to sympathy in the reader.

            In his translation, Liuzza creates essentially an original poem.  Yes, it is a translation of Old English and poetic license is indeed taken, but since the poem is postmodern, that is, since the poem operates outside of its original capacity since it can no longer be read with original eyes, having been informed by scholarship and multiple other translations and supplemental sources over the last few centuries, what Liuzza does here is creates his own version of the poem.  The evidence of this original creation lies in the way in which he sets about his work.  As seen in the close reading above, the language Liuzza employs directs the reader's attention to a specific way in which to read the poem, as must be expected.  A literal translation would not even be able to capture what the poet had originally intended, as the modern reader does not always know for certain what the original language was meant to convey exactly.  Thus, one translation reads Grendel as a "bold demon" and another, as we shall see, as a "powerful demon."  What Liuzza accomplishes in his translation, as seen in these preceding lines, is the filling in of a gap.  In suggesting one way in which to read the poem, Liuzza informs his reader's experience by providing one avenue of many by which to, in the present case, read Grendel's character early on in the poem, which sets up, though potentially subconsciously, a possible reading of the character throughout the rest of the poem.  Liuzza, in creating his own version of the poem, speaks to the original's functioning as untimely, multitemporal, and polychronic, which will be discussed collectively after a brief analysis of Heaney's translation. 

              Moving then to the other translation, Heaney chooses to render the same lines thus:

Then a powerful demon, a prowler through the dark,

nursed a hard grievance.  It harrowed him

to hear the din of the loud banquet

every day in the hall, the harp being struck

and the clear song of a skilled poet  (ll. 86-90)

Though I will deliberately avoid a direct comparison of Liuzza and Heaney at present, one note must be addressed, as it is common ground for each translation.  Like in Liuzza, here, as in the rest of the poem, it is evident that the story element remains the same.  The original poem has provided the framework on which to build, and each poet has used that, though to different ends.  In these lines we still see the separation of dark from light and can recognize the marking of Grendel's "otherness."  Grendel is outside and the Danes are inside; Grendel is in darkness and the Danes are in light; Grendel is burdened and the Danes are lively.  It is here, though, like in Liuzza's version, that the common elements end and the reader gets Heaney's creation and emphasis.

            Heaney translates "ellengǣst" in line 86 as a "powerful demon," which is the exact term that Clark Hall's Anglo-Saxon dictionary uses to define the word (Clark Hall).  What gives Heaney's translation its color, though, is the way in which he modifies the "powerful demon."  Heaney calls Grendel a "prowler through the dark," which suggests more than sheer power being Grendel's most terrifying characteristic.  Heaney gives movement to Grendel here, and though the reader does not know what exactly his movement looks like since an accurate description of his being cannot be provided, it seems to add to the terror and horror being pent up in him waiting to burst forth.  The OAD defines a prowler as one who "move[s] about in a stealthy or restless way, especially in search of prey" ("Prowl").  But their remains an element of incompleteness in this definition, as the intent of one who prowls must include plotting destruction of some sort by dishonorable means.  If read in this light, then, Heaney's translation really shows his reader how Grendel is pacing, tapping his foot, and making other movements to contain his rage until the proper moment.  The terror is in the action, and Heaney in delivering this language directs his reader to read Grendel in a particular way.

            The next idea to note is that Grendel "nursed a hard grievance," and here the reader is given an idea why Grendel is prowling.  If one reads "nursed" as a fostering or nurturing act, which the OAD suggests, then Heaney is providing for his reader another grasping point ("Nursed").  If Grendel is not merely sitting and waiting, but instead harbors action within him that is continually developing, then this furthers the illustration of Grendel prowling and focuses on the why element.  This does not promote sympathy for Grendel, but rather quite the opposite.  Heaney allows his reader to almost feel the rage that Grendel feels and that experience suggests a unique reading.  The nursing of a grievance leaves much to the imagination concerning the reason for the situation, but Heaney directs the reading of his version in translating the way he does and filling in gaps in his own style.

            When Heaney talks about the din inside of Heorot, he says that it "harrowed" Grendel.  Again, Heaney directs his reader's experience and suggests that the way in which Grendel suffered was both physically and mentally torturous.  His agony and distress is not surface-level; to Grendel the din in the hall was unbearable.  For Heaney to translate this passage and suggest that Grendel was harrowed suggests that his suffering and rage were churning inside of him like a proper harrow might churn, break apart, or pulverize a field ("Harrow").  When the reader sees that there is a "loud banquet" inside the hall, one immediately feels the sense of noise, but also that of laughter and merriment, sounds that banquets frequently exhibit.  But for Grendel the noise is a source of suffering to an unimaginable degree, and this description serves to underscore what Heaney is bringing to the fore in his translation- the description of a true monster- and in doing so invokes a sense of terror for the reader.

            Having analyzed the two translations, it is evident that each version directs the reader to read in a certain way.  Liuzza calls, in these five lines anyway, for a potentially sympathetic response from his reader toward Grendel and Heaney for a terrified response.  The differences throughout each translation are apparent when the text is closely read, but the structure of the poem remains the same, giving the overall experience a distinctly postmodern feel to it.  The poem is both familiar and different; the poem is both structured and reads differently when read closely.  The translators give the original poem unique characteristics and shape depending on their individual rendering of words and lines.  They essentially read themselves into the poem and fill in gaps, both literally and figuratively with their own idiosyncrasies.  What is unique about the poem, though, is that it invites different renderings, and each rendering is equally valid.  With a manuscript that is so badly damaged, pieces are missing or blurred or in some way unclear.  The translator's job, then, is to fill in the missing sections with as close a resemblance to what potentially was in the original as is possible.  The translator's choice to change the language to fit the context is permissible, as is the possibility of footnoting the choice in addition of substitution, or the decision to omit the words or passages completely and leave ellipses in its place, with or without a footnote.  When a translator makes these decisions, he or she takes poetic license.  This, coupled with style and diction choices, among others, really leads the translation into a version of the original, and making, to whatever degree- large or small- the poem an original creation.  Heather O'Donoghue, in her review of Heaney's translation, notes that

Heaney's translation will be read less as a translation than an original poem in its own right.  [Heaney's fans and laymen] may not know the poem in its original Old English, and may even be coming to it for the first time, intrigued by potential of an epic meeting between two great poets from the most recent and the most distant ends of the canon of 'English Literature.'" (Rev. of "Heaney" 231) 

The idea is not unlike taking a plot structure and some common elements of it in present-day literature and creating something original from  a structure.  Granted, Beowulf is a little more guided and intricate than, say, a modern-day mystery novel that borrows structure and other elements- character types, sub-plots, etc.- but is nonetheless an original rendition of the same story by its use of language and the imagery it paints for the reader.

            Another way that the renderings suggest that they are original is in the intended audience of each.  Liuzza's translation is more of an academic translation, more accessible to students and scholars while Heaney's, though scholarly as well- in its own way- is really directed to a popular audience.  O'Donoghue says that

[a] smaller group of readers will comprise those who know the poem well, in the original, and who want to know, straightforwardly enough, what Heaney has done with it. . . .  Proprietorial, even a little defensive about the poem, their concern will be with such matters as the literalness and accuracy of Heaney's translation, disguising, perhaps, anxiety about appropriation.  But with Heaney, distinctions between the roles of scholar, critic, and poet dissolve; he combines the strengths of all three in this new text. (Rev. of "Heaney" 231)

O'Donoghue also approaches Liuzza's translation in a similar manner:

But whilst recognizing that the intended audience for Liuzza's volume is more an academic than a purely literary one. . ., it would be wrong to judge Liuzza's translation simply on utilitarian principles, as either a crib for students working with the original poem, or as no more than a convenient means of assessing the poem's contents for those without Old English.  (Rev. of "Liuzza" 251)

While both versions have their own merit in and of themselves, they are nonetheless directed at two separate audiences and are received differently, as expected, by each. 

            The physical books themselves also tend to lean one way or another, and while this may seem superficial, it is nonetheless significant.  First, the praise offered on the back of each cover is from different sources, Liuzza's from scholars and Heaney's from The Guardian, The Observer, and The Financial Times, to name a few.  The front covers tell a similar story: Heaney's cover has on it the back of a warrior's head wrapped in chain mail, suggesting a focus on feuding and war, and Luizza's cover shows a cliff side that the reader is to imagine is the coastline of Denmark, suggesting a more historical approach, or perhaps a more pensive, accurate approach in some way, highlighting the scholarly aspect of the translation.  Lastly, the content of the books, aside from the poems themselves, speak to the audience.  Heaney's version includes an introduction, a note on names, the text, family trees, and acknowledgements, while Liuzza's includes a lengthy introduction, the text, a glossary of names, genealogies, a note on the Swedish-Danish Wars, five appendixes,  works cited, and recommended reading.  These two versions of Beowulf are vastly different in what they offer, both in translation and in the complete package of the whole book in which they are presented.  And both are equally great translations for equally different reasons.  Gernot Wieland wraps the two-audience idea up nicely:

The two translations clearly address themselves to different audiences, have different tones, and approach their subject matter differently, with Liuzza's being the more scholarly and Heaney's the more poetic version.  If it is poetry you want, buy Heaney's translation; if it is scholarship, buy Liuzza's.  If you want a wonderful translation of Beowulf, buy both.  (137)

The idea is that the texts function independently, but may in a sense function better collectively.  One feels a greater sense of completeness when having knowledge of what each translation has to offer and I would imagine the sense would be more complete having an understanding of many translations, not just these two, as that would inform the reader more completely and stress the uniqueness of Beowulf.

            The original Beowulf is absolutely a postmodern text and yields to postmodern thought in three ways: it is untimely, multitemporal, and polychronic.  The untimeliness of Beowulf is evidenced by the scores of translations that have come after the original.  The original poem, as alluded to earlier, is distanced from the modern reader in a number of ways.  The physical manuscript is damaged, leaving gaps for translators to either fill or leave untouched and the text is not one that can be wholly known because of this.  The text is also written in a language that is not accessible to most people.  It is not that the poem was ill-timed when it was written, but rather that the poem is and can only be understood as ill-timed or outside of time to the modern reader.  Time and damage to the manuscript have acted as the disrupting element to cause the untimeliness. 

            The poem is polychronic as a result of its untimeliness.  This is clearly seen in the fact that the poem folds different periods of time from the period in which it was written down to the first translations to the present translations.  Several hundred years separate the poem from the translations, and the dozens of translations that exist differ from each other.  So not only does the poem represent polychronicity from the standpoint of comparing the two above modern translations to the original, but also in comparison to each other and to all those translations that have gone before.  Depending on one's influences, the poem will be read far differently by one person than another.  For example, if one has a background in  Anglo-Saxon history or Old English language, he or she may read the poem differently than another.  Other elements may include having a Norse or Scandinavian historical or literary background, having seen the recent films before reading a translation of the poem, one may have read John Gardner's Grendel, or Michael Crichton's Eaters of the Dead, or J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings trilogy, or The Saga of the Volsungs or The Saga of King Hrolf Kraki to name only some.  Any combination from the above list has the potential to shape a reader's understanding and experience of Beowulf.  Gardner's Grendel can inform a reading of the character Grendel in the poem, for example, and thus the reading experience cannot be a reading of the true poem as it was initially intended.  This blending and folding of time and the reader's reaction to it and understanding of it shapes the reading and illustrates the polychronicity of the poem to underscore its postmodern nature. 

            Beowulf is also multitemporal in that it evokes multiple understandings.  Because it is untimely and polychronic, the poem is naturally multitemporal.  As evidenced in the close reading above, depending on the translation and the translator's preferences, the poem, when read with care, can be read in a number of different ways, each leading to a different result as concerns the reader's understanding of characters and imagery, among other elements.  Because each reading evokes a different understanding, guided by language or any other poetic liberty taken, the poem is a multitemporal text.

            The initial reviews of both translations were positive, but for different reasons.  The ones referenced above were chosen because both scholars wrote excellent reviews on both Liuzza's and Heaney's translations and to quote more than a couple reviews would prove redundant and cluttered.  What most of the reviews suggest, though, coupled with a close reading of the text, is that both Beowulf in translation and the original poem are postmodern texts, and though they do not necessarily particularize that idea, it is nonetheless evident.  The language of each translation is what sets each apart from another, and a close reading of the choices the translator makes can have the most critical impact on one's Beowulf reading experience.  The poem is indeed renewed with each translation and essentially creates an original poem each time it is translated, and also each time it is read.  The nature of the original informs that of the translations and contributes a fascinating element to the entire Beowulf experience.  The poem is reinvented and changes how the reader reads it and comes to know it each time, because of both the number of entirely different translations and the intricacies of each experience rereading the same text.  Also noteworthy is that audience matters a great deal when considering multiple translations of a work.  Liuzza's version is meant to be a more scholarly one, Heaney's a more popular one, and understanding the elements that make each what it is proves important in understanding the poem as it exists in translation, considering what the translator set out to accomplish.  Both of the translations analyzed here are excellent works by men who are clearly capable of translating Beowulf and bring unique elements to their respective versions.  The text is more than a text, more than simply a poem, but rather, following with postmodern thinking, it is a work that is non-synchronous in so many ways that its always-changing nature makes for a unique study each time someone approaches it, which underscores that each version is truly an original.  In his book, Thinking About Beowulf, James Earl said "I no longer trust those who say they know what Beowulf means, or what it is about.  The poem is hedged about with so many uncertainties- historical, textual, linguistic, hermeneutic- that even the simplest and most straightforward statements can provoke a battle royal among scholars" (11).  Indeed.  And I would further that statement:  I no longer trust those who insist on one translation of Beowulf, as a comprehensive understanding of the poem can surely only come from reading them all.

Works Cited

Bosworth, Joseph.  "Geþolian." An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary.  Ed. T. Northcote Toller.  Oxford:     The Clarendon Press, 1898.  http://beowulf.engl.uky.edu/~kiernan/BT/Bosworth-   Toller.htm.  Web. 03 May 2013

Clark Hall, J.R.  "Ellengǣst."  A Concise Anglo-Saxon Dictionary.  4th ed.  Toronto: University    of Toronto Press, 2008.  Print.

"Din."  Pocket Oxford American Dictionary.  2nd ed.  2008.  Print.

Earl, James W.  Thinking About Beowulf.  Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994.  Print.

"Harrow."  Pocket Oxford American Dictionary.  2nd ed.  2008.  Print.

Heaney, Seamus.  Beowulf: A Verse Translation.  Ed. Daniel Donoghue.  New York: W.W.          Norton and Company, 2002.  Print.

Liuzza, R.M.  Beowulf.  Peterborough: Broadview Press, 2013.  Print.

"Nurse."  Def. 2b.  Pocket Oxford American Dictionary.  2nd ed.  2008.  Print.

O'Donoghue, Heather.  Rev. of Beowulf: A Verse Translation, by Seamus Heaney.  Translation    and Literature  9:2 (2000): 231-36.  Print.

---.  Rev. of Beowulf: A New Verse Translation, by R.M. Liuzza.  Translation and Literature         10:2 (2001): 250-54.  Print.

"Prowl."  Pocket Oxford American Dictionary.  2nd ed.  2008.  Print.

Wieland, Gernot.  Rev. of Beowulf: A Verse Translation, by Seamus Heaney, and Beowulf, by      R.M. Liuzza.  Arthuriana  11:3 (2001): 134-37.  Print.