Beowulf - Seamus Heaney

I was indirectly introduced to ‘Beowulf’ one Christmas, when an elderly Aunt came to visit. Renowned for her peculiar choice of presents ( I received a pair of American tan tights and a tea towel for my twelfth birthday) we were warned to be specific in our requests. I asked for a book of Auden’s verse, expecting a ‘collected works’. I received a heavy tome containing his translations of Norse Verse. I wasn’t overjoyed by her choice, but it had two unexpected benefits. I managed to have a relative-free Christmas, through a new habit of quoting vast tracts of obscure Nordic poetry at anyone who came within twenty yards of me, and, ...

Seamus Heany’s poetry is full of Irish bile, his poems are in raw contact with what he believes to be the peaty past of Ireland, bog land held, for him, the frozen past of a possible future for Ireland. In his translation of Beowulf he reaches new heights in the connection with his Irish ancestry and the ancient Nordic bards, from whence the tail descends. The story of the vanquishing of Grendal and his mother is as grippingly epic as ever. And the grandiose sweeping imagery and deliciously lush text are very much like the peat that so obsessed Heany. The reader is drawn in, inescapably, as a thousand years of storytelling is refined yet left un-compromised ...

I've long known the tale of Beowulf, but not being into ancient languages, had not read it in poem form until this version came out. I have been a fan of Seamus Heaney for some years, and awaited this epic with much enthusiasm. I was not disappointed. This is a fantastic and very accesable rendering of a powerful story, and the comentary was invaluable.(There are footnotes helping to explain who is who, what the references are all about and what some of the more obscure words mean.) Epic poetry is somewhat out of vogue at present, which is a shame because this is a fantastic piece of work. I recall a newspaper article complaining about the award it received ...