It’s sad news to hear of Christopher Tolkien’s death. He kept the flame of his father’s legacy alive and was in his own right a mapmaker, scholar, and writer.
Read more about Christopher and his legacy here.
It’s sad news to hear of Christopher Tolkien’s death. He kept the flame of his father’s legacy alive and was in his own right a mapmaker, scholar, and writer.
Read more about Christopher and his legacy here.
My students never fail to amaze, astound, and astonish me. Whether it was a poem fashioned with alliteration and pathos or a gaffaw-inducing Leechbook for college students, my students are valiant thegns and wise warriors.
They made art, such as the painstaking embroidery that portrays the dragon, Beowulf, Grendel’s Mother, and Grendel’s arm, as Claire did.
Emma made a collage dividing good and evil. Kyle made us roar with laughter with his “newspaper,” The Heorot Herald. It included tidbits on how to stop Grendel’s arm from rotting in the rafters and also a “Missed Connection” for Unferth, who promised to be reading Pride and Prejudice! A parody requires the writer to understand the original perfectly and is a lot of work–even if the result is to die for!
Kandi fashioned a book with her own calligraphy and story, interlacing The Wife’s Lament with her own story inspired by historical characters. I think it should be a novel or series. And her brother made the leather-bound book with vellum. Truly mind-blowing!
I’m so grateful to my class for creatively showing how Old English material can be refashioned for today’s world. James made a D & D Beowulf style that was jaw-dropping in its intricate detail.
Old English Risotto and Grendel’s Dinner for One? Such is the daily fare of the humble Old English professor.
My student, Rachel, wove a space of peace at the beginning of class in our “meadhall”. She served lamb cooked in berries, whole wheat pancakes (barley was not available), and fresh berries.
Rachel poured mead (well, apple juice) into our cups as she urged us to make boasts. I got a “gold” ring for boasting that I would do my grading.
Here is a video of how Rachel made her food. With ambient medieval music!
Lauren made an Old English risotto out of barley pearls and bacon. You can use bacon bits just like in the pre-Conquest period 😉
Stephen is a wood burner who created this gorgeous linden wood plaque commemorating Grendel’s arm.
Cheyenne created this lovely work inspired by Grendel’s Mother. The scene is when Brimhild conquers Beowulf with her menstrual blood.
And Alisa made an Old English cookbook, replete with snacks for Grendel 😉
Sounds yummy to me!
Jessica’s poster pays tribute to two powerful virgins–Beowulf and Judith.
While Josh made coats of arms for the Danes and Geats. As he writes, “As Tolkien had done with words, I endeavored to do with art.” Great idea!
One student had us play of play of fate or wyrd. I hope you don’t get “A dragon attacks your kingdom.” You might “feel, forever to be known as a coward.”
Another student made sculptures of the dragon and Beowulf in a helmet.
One favorite was devoted to Old English Film Loglines. I want to see Judith Unchained!
Other works cannot be shown, but include a Bruce Lee version of the fighting virgin, Juliana; the story from Beowulf’s point of view in a Lovecraftian homage; and a Blaxploitation version with Heorot as a brothel called The Bone House.
While I miss the doughty thegns and peaceweavers of my class from last year, I currently have some wonderful new ones this semester! I can’t wait to see what they come up with.
I’m delighted that my article “Grendel’s Mother in Fascist Italy: Beowulf in a Catholic Youth Publication,” has just been published in the International Journal of Comic Art. This essay focuses on a 1940-41 Italian comic book version by Enrico Basari (author) and Kurt Caesar (illustrator). An anti-semitic portrayal of Grendel’s Mother grows out of German views of Beowulf in the 1930s.
The anti-semitic overtones present in German Beowulf youth translations and adaptations sympathetic to Nazi German propaganda, produced in the decade before and simultaneously with the publication of the comic under scrutiny here, likewise crop up under the Italian fascist reign. The fraught nature of Grendel’s Mother takes on insidious dimensions in Enrico Basari’s Beowulf. Leggenda cristiana dell’antica Danimarca, appearing in serial form from Oct. 5, 1940-Jan. 25, 1941.
It was featured in Il Vittorioso, a Catholic youth publication, “a nationalist publication often distributed through Catholic parishes” (Calderón, 2007:112), that attempted to go beyond mere Fascist propaganda for young people. Just how could an anti-semitic inflected Beowulf comic have affected youth readers?
Read the full article here: Morrison IJOCA Grendel’s Mother in Fascist Italy.
Susan Signe Morrison. “Grendel’s Mother in Fascist Italy: Beowulf in a Catholic Youth Publication.”International Journal of Comic Art (IJOCA) 20.1 (2018): 331-348.
Imagine what Grendel’s sandwich would consist of!
Before ‘fake news’, there was ‘Beowulf’s sandwich’. A reconstruction of a comic sketch from 1909.
via The history of Beowulf’s sandwich: A sketch about ‘fake news’ from 1909 — Dutch Anglo-Saxonist
When Dr. Lorraine Stock, Professor of English at the University of Houston, invited me to come speak about my novel, Grendel’s Mother: The Saga of the Wyrd-Wife, I was thrilled. She wanted me to engage with her students who were reading Beowulf and Beowulf adaptations. I gave a lecture entitled: “Grendel’s Mother: How Silenced Women Speak Through Historical Fiction.”
Additionally, I attended her class to answer their questions (and sign their books!). But things don’t always go the way you expect them to.
Intrepid University of Houston grad student Sadie Hash scooped me up after my much delayed (4 hours) flight. I FaceTimed with Lorraine’s class as Sadie coolly drove to campus, where another student, Travis, whisked me away from curb to classroom to perform live.
Somehow being late was all to the good. The students were a bit intimidated to meet a real live author. But after FaceTiming with me for half an hour as we puzzled over the sound quality of the connection and they got a glimpse of the blue and green streaks in my hair, they relaxed.
Then, Lorraine had fashioned a convivial mead (wine) hall for my lecture with warm and responsive guests. I spoke to undergraduate and graduate students, as well as faculty. It was an utter delight to converse with Anglo-Saxonist John McNamara, whose 2005 translation of Beowulf is a Barnes and Noble Classic.
We listened to Sarah McSweeney’s poignant rendition of Helga’s Song from my book.
In a wonderful surprise, a dear friend, Sabrina Martinez, was able to attend my talk.
That was a good day.
The next afternoon, after having a delightful time filming an interview with Lorraine and conversing with faculty and students, Lorraine, Sadie, and I made it to one of my favorite museums: the Museum of Fine Arts Houston.
Most amusing was our conversation about Rubens’ Leda and the Swan.
The closer you look, the more it strikes the viewer as a tad…kinky. We were very giggly.
Art–whether written or visual or musical–continues to inspire, bringing us together in convivial spaces of exchange and dynamic warmth. Thanks to Lorraine and her students for fostering such a delightful climate and partnership!
I love my school, writes one 4th grader. Nothing unusual in that. Except she writes it…in runes!!!
How do kids learn to write runic letters? Through the wonderful Young Writers’ Workshop that takes place every year at Travis Heights Elementary School. Not only do I love this school because my own kids had been pupils there, but because it continues to be an active part of my life. These 3rd-5th graders have the opportunity to work with writers from all fields–playwrights, business/tech writers, songwriters…and medievalists!
The other thing I learned today: one pupil was looking at the runic alphabet and we were discussing how “Z” is really complicated. But “S,” I said, “looks like a lighting bolt.” The pupil said, “It looks like Harry Potter’s scar!” All these years, and I never made that connection before: his scar DOES look like the runic S.
I hope I can keep learning from these amazing kids. One added treat: I was in the room with the wonderful 3rd grade teacher — who happens to be the mom of my son’s dear friend. Happy day!
wer-genga, m.n: a stranger who seeks protection in the land to which he has come. [WAIR-yen-ga]
via wer-genga — Old English Wordhord
Old English Wordhord sends a daily word. Somehow, wer-genga tantalizes. Aren’t we all strangers seeking protection at some point in our lives? Let’s show compassion to our fellow strangers, making us compatriots with everyone.
For a bonus question on their exam, my students used their artistic talents to draw their own rendition of Grendel’s mother from the Old English poem Beowulf.
via Grendel’s Mother: A Student Doodle Edition — Dutch Anglo-Saxonist
God Jul! My ancestors crafted Beowulf’s armor. Ok, maybe it’s a stretch. Earlier this semester, one of my students blurted out, “That means your great-grandparents made Beowulf’s armor!” I’d like to explore the justification for this suggestion on this day, in memory of what would have been my mother Joan’s 95th birthday.
Her father, my grandfather Werner–who called himself a Viking–was born in the 19th century in Sundsvall, Sweden. He grew up on a farm where tomtens knotted the horses’ tails every night. The milk Werner left out was always drunk by them. So he maintained.
This old Swede, as I knew him, said he was descended from Weland or Wayland the Smithy, the smith god in the Norse and Germanic mythological panoply. After all, his last name was Wehlen, though my Swedish cousins spell it Welin. So when Beowulf talks about his armor as “Welandes geweorc” or “the work of Weland” (line 455), that must be my ancestor’s artistry at play–at least according to my student. I like to think that’s true.
In case you don’t believe in the tomten, see this book by Viktor Rydberg, which features the beautiful paintings of Harald Wiberg. Below is the very copy my second cousin, Barbro, sent to my brothers and me in 1963. I still read it out loud to my children, just as my mother, Joan, did, on a still Christmas Eve. Maybe Weland is listening, too?