Last night I finished reading Tolkien’s translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (and I’ve moved on to Pearl). Gawain and the Green Knight is one of a handful of medieval poems attributed to a nameless author from north-western England. The original poems were written in an English dialect now called North-West Midlands English by people that study that kind of thing, which is distinct to the extent that it’s essentially a separate language unless you’ve spent a great many years learning it. Luckily, we have people like Tolkien to step in and convert the important stuff from such regional language families into a more readable format.
Gawain and the Green Knight is a classic medieval romance about a noble knight (Sir Gawain) who goes far afield on a grand quest, then returns home to his king to tell the court about his adventure, and what he learned. In this particular story, Gawain sits at the court of Sir Arthur (of the round table) at new years, when a mysterious knight colored shades of green crashes the celebration and poses a psychotic challenge in which he and another man will trade axe-blows to the neck – he sweetens the deal by saying that he will accept the first hit, and only on new years day the next will he deliver his reply. Gawain, refusing to have the honor of his lord’s hall impeached by the Green Knight’s accusation of cowardice, accepts the challenge and promptly decapitates his foe. Of course, the Green Knight doesn’t die, he picks his head up, thanks Gawain for his time, and rides away, leaving Arthur’s nephew to wait through the following year dreading the one after. I won’t speak more of the story, as there are plot twists, intrigue, and some saucy courtly romance; it’s all very fun to read and exciting throughout.
Probably the most notable aspect of Gawain and the Green Knight is its poetic structure. It was written at the height of a period called the Alliterative Revival, which briefly brought alliterative verse back into vogue in parts of Europe. Alliterative verse is similar to rhyming verse except that it uses – you guessed it – alliteration instead of rhyming to form the primary structure of a work. Gawain and the Green Knight is an eccentric work because it combines a strong alliterative structure with a “bob and wheel” – a rhymed, four-line stanza (the “wheel”) with a very short line (the “bob”) connecting it to the previous stanza.
Having thoroughly enjoyed this poem both in content and technically, I can’t say I didn’t like the alliterative verse, but I can say that I probably prefer rhyming verse. Alliteration is all well and good, but an entire poem written with it as the primary organizing structure feels “heavy”, perhaps “clunky”, but in a good sense. The best way I can think to describe the difference between the two styles is this; if rhyming verse takes you by the hand and leads you wanly from rhyme to rhyme and line to line, alliterative verse follows behind you and tersely pushes you ahead; neither is bad, but the former is perhaps easier to read, and therefore less difficult to enjoy.
Overall, Gawain and the Green Knight is a poem that feels old. While reading it, one can hear the weighty bulk of time in its style and vocabulary. Eccentric design (by modern standards) aside, it tells a compelling story about honor and chivalry; it’s all very christian and at times moderately preachy, but it also draws heavily on the folk-lore and legends of the British Isles. It is flush with vivid imagery and memorable verse, and in this particular iteration (that is, Tolkien’s translation) it is both easy and quick to read. I heartily recommend Sir Gawain and the Green Knight to any aficionado of legends or fairy stories, history or poetry, romance, adventure, or arcane vernacular.
As always, thanks for reading
Mike
Off White 