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The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights
Steinbeck's only work of fantasy literature—in a deluxe edition with a foreword by Christopher Paolini, New York Times bestselling author of Eragon , Eldest and Brisingr
A Penguin Classic
Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur was the first book that John Steinbeck truly enjoyed reading as a child. Fascinated by Arthurian tales of adventure, knighthood, honor and friendship, in addition to the challenging nuances of the original Anglo-Saxon language, Steinbeck set out to render these stories faithfully and with keen animation for a modern audience. Here then is Steinbeck’s modernization of the adventure of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, featuring the icons of Arthurian legend—including King Arthur, Merlin, Morgan le Fay, the incomparable Queen Guinevere, and Arthur's purest knight, Sir Lancelot of the Lake.
These enduring tales of loyalty and betrayal in the time of Camelot flicker with the wonder and magic of an era past but not forgotten. Steinbeck's retelling will capture the attention and imagination of legions of Steinbeck fans, including those who love Arthurian romances, as well as countless readers of science fiction and fantasy literature.
This edition features a new foreword by Christopher Paolini, author of the number-one New York Times bestselling novels Eragon , Eldest , and Brisingr . It also includes the letters John Steinbeck wrote to his literary agent, Elizabeth Otis, and to Chase Horton, the original editor of this volume.
For more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,700 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.
A Penguin Classic
Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur was the first book that John Steinbeck truly enjoyed reading as a child. Fascinated by Arthurian tales of adventure, knighthood, honor and friendship, in addition to the challenging nuances of the original Anglo-Saxon language, Steinbeck set out to render these stories faithfully and with keen animation for a modern audience. Here then is Steinbeck’s modernization of the adventure of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, featuring the icons of Arthurian legend—including King Arthur, Merlin, Morgan le Fay, the incomparable Queen Guinevere, and Arthur's purest knight, Sir Lancelot of the Lake.
These enduring tales of loyalty and betrayal in the time of Camelot flicker with the wonder and magic of an era past but not forgotten. Steinbeck's retelling will capture the attention and imagination of legions of Steinbeck fans, including those who love Arthurian romances, as well as countless readers of science fiction and fantasy literature.
This edition features a new foreword by Christopher Paolini, author of the number-one New York Times bestselling novels Eragon , Eldest , and Brisingr . It also includes the letters John Steinbeck wrote to his literary agent, Elizabeth Otis, and to Chase Horton, the original editor of this volume.
For more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,700 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.
416 pages, Paperback
First published December 31, 1976
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About the author
John Steinbeck
988 books25.3k followersJohn Ernst Steinbeck was an American writer. He won the 1962 Nobel Prize in Literature "for his realistic and imaginative writings, combining as they do sympathetic humor and keen social perception". He has been called "a giant of American letters."
During his writing career, he authored 33 books, with one book coauthored alongside Edward F. Ricketts, including 16 novels, six non-fiction books, and two collections of short stories. He is widely known for the comic novels Tortilla Flat (1935) and Cannery Row (1945), the multi-generation epic East of Eden (1952), and the novellas The Red Pony (1933) and Of Mice and Men (1937). The Pulitzer Prize–winning The Grapes of Wrath (1939) is considered Steinbeck's masterpiece and part of the American literary canon. By the 75th anniversary of its publishing date, it had sold 14 million copies.
Most of Steinbeck's work is set in central California, particularly in the Salinas Valley and the California Coast Ranges region. His works frequently explored the themes of fate and injustice, especially as applied to downtrodden or everyman protagonists.
During his writing career, he authored 33 books, with one book coauthored alongside Edward F. Ricketts, including 16 novels, six non-fiction books, and two collections of short stories. He is widely known for the comic novels Tortilla Flat (1935) and Cannery Row (1945), the multi-generation epic East of Eden (1952), and the novellas The Red Pony (1933) and Of Mice and Men (1937). The Pulitzer Prize–winning The Grapes of Wrath (1939) is considered Steinbeck's masterpiece and part of the American literary canon. By the 75th anniversary of its publishing date, it had sold 14 million copies.
Most of Steinbeck's work is set in central California, particularly in the Salinas Valley and the California Coast Ranges region. His works frequently explored the themes of fate and injustice, especially as applied to downtrodden or everyman protagonists.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 564 reviews
September 21, 2015
One doesn't associate John Steinbeck with fantasy literature and yet here it is, The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights by John Steinbeck. Go figure!
It's all* here, the rags-to-riches story of how Arthur ascended to the throne, the many deeds of his knights, the magic of Merlin and Morgan Le Fay.
His translation of Thomas Malory's version of the Arthurian legend is almost strangely faithful, seldom veering from that 15th century work in order to modernize the language enough for today's reader. And it is immensely readable! I breezed through from start to finish. Certainly not every story is a winner. Movies, tv series and books often skip a good number of the stories and stick with the most well-known. This gives you the lesser known stuff in full color and it is often beautiful.
However, this faithful translation dismayed and disappointed the publisher, who expected a Steinbeckized version of the Arthurian tales, something more like a Grapes of Wrath-gritty tale of down-and-out knights. Don't you too make that mistake when reading this! Steinbeck was a childhood fan of these stories and with childlike devotion, he captures their essence with a picture-perfect imitation intending to flatter via flattery's sincerest form. Well done and highly worth a read!
* Well, I say "all" but the book is not actually complete. Steinbeck put many years of hard work into this and yet inexplicably didn't finish it.
It's all* here, the rags-to-riches story of how Arthur ascended to the throne, the many deeds of his knights, the magic of Merlin and Morgan Le Fay.
His translation of Thomas Malory's version of the Arthurian legend is almost strangely faithful, seldom veering from that 15th century work in order to modernize the language enough for today's reader. And it is immensely readable! I breezed through from start to finish. Certainly not every story is a winner. Movies, tv series and books often skip a good number of the stories and stick with the most well-known. This gives you the lesser known stuff in full color and it is often beautiful.
However, this faithful translation dismayed and disappointed the publisher, who expected a Steinbeckized version of the Arthurian tales, something more like a Grapes of Wrath-gritty tale of down-and-out knights. Don't you too make that mistake when reading this! Steinbeck was a childhood fan of these stories and with childlike devotion, he captures their essence with a picture-perfect imitation intending to flatter via flattery's sincerest form. Well done and highly worth a read!
* Well, I say "all" but the book is not actually complete. Steinbeck put many years of hard work into this and yet inexplicably didn't finish it.
February 26, 2013
Is it wrong that this was the first book by Steinbeck that I’ve read? Certainly it is the kind of book one probably wouldn’t have even expected this author to have written. Known for his brooding meditations on the harsh life of the American experience in the mid-20th century, a translation/re-working of Malory’s stories about King Arthur and his knights certainly don’t seem like an obvious fit for Steinbeck. Reading through the letters written by the author himself in the appendix to this volume, however, makes it abundantly clear that the project was one that was near and dear to the author’s heart, into which he poured a significant amount of time & effort, and which he himself saw as possibly filling the role of crowning achievement of his work. I will here go on record with many other reviewers on 카지노싸이트 and state that it is a real shame that, for some unknown reason, Steinbeck never finished his work on this, though even the fragment he left us with is a significant work and one of the better treatments of the Matter of Britain I’ve read.
I must first admit that I found myself becoming slightly bored with the first third or so of the text. True to his words in the introduction Steinbeck hews very closely to his source text, Malory’s Le Morte D’Arthur, and generally follows his plan of “leaving out nothing and adding nothing…since in no sense do I wish to rewrite Malory …” in the first four tales: Merlin, The Knight with the Two Swords, The Wedding of King Arthur, and The Death of Merlin. I generally have little use for ‘translations’ of Malory since I don’t really see the point; the Middle English he uses isn’t really that difficult for a modern reader to approach and I generally find that ‘modernizing’ the language simply takes the reader a further step from the text without adding anything of use. Happily for us Steinbeck seems to have taken advice from his editors to heart and in the subsequent tales really starts making the material his own while still staying true to the spirit of Malory. Indeed, from the very first sentence of Morgan le Fay one can see Steinbeck breaking new ground and not simply aping his master. From here on we are treated to a really excellent interpretation of the tales that seeks to investigate the psychology of these figures from myth without reducing them to little more than modern people in medieval drag or diminishing the epic scope of the tales.
Arthur largely remains the peripheral figure he generally has to be for these tales, the enigmatic centre around which all of the other characters revolve and from whom they draw their glory. Despite this Steinbeck does attempt to invest the tragic king with some elements of individuality and provides one or two tantalizing glimpses of the man underneath the myth. We see the king’s early dissatisfaction with the trials of kingship and disappointment in the need to fight rebellion:
I found myself noticing things here that I had missed or glossed over from my initial reading of Malory such as the incongruous nature of the various enchantresses generally known to be “the damsels of the Lady of the Lake and schooled in wonders.” They range from the damsel who gave to Arthur his enchanted sword Excalibur (the same maiden killed by Sir Balin for ostensibly having had his own mother burned at the stake) to the Lady Nyneve, the bane of Merlin who, despite her role in deceiving the besotted old enchanter, stealing his knowledge, and leaving him buried alive is not portrayed as evil. She does this act to gain power, but learns that with great power comes great responsibility. In the end she seems to take on Merlin’s role as protector of the realm, though in a somewhat lessened capacity, and gets her own reward for being true to the lonely path of power that accepts responsibility: the love of the good knight Pelleas. Finally there are also the four queens (including Morgan le Fay) who capture Lancelot and put him to the test with their illusory blandishments. They may or may not be members of this same circle of enchantresses, but they equally represent part of the same intriguing puzzle: just what are they? Members of a school for magic? A group of proto-feminists looking for a way to power in a man's world? Something of both or neither? Some seem to be evil, working deeds of mischance and violence, others good, though often they are no less violent in this world of martial law and divine retribution. Perhaps it’s most appropriate to say that the true test comes in that some work for their own selfish interests while others work for the common good.
It was also refreshing to see the varied characterization of the questing knights (and their three fascinating ladies) in the tale Gawain, Ewain, and Marhalt. Indeed, the entire section provides Steinbeck with interesting character studies, not to mention much fodder for his social and personal concerns. Marhalt rocks and it was very nice to see a knight of Arthur’s court so clear-headed and competent without vainglory…a rare thing. He is a man with both skill and self-knowledge, the quintessential man of experience, and it’s a bit sad to know that his fate in the cycle is to be killed by that jack-ass Tristan (though Steinbeck does not himself tell this episode). The training of young Ewain (in many ways the opposite of Marhalt) by his own Lady was equally wonderful and showed how far Steinbeck had come: much of this tale seems to have been created by Steinbeck himself and yet it in no way felt like he was departing from the spirit of Malory specifically or the Arthurian tales in general.
The final entry The Noble Tale of Sir Lancelot of the Lake shows Steinbeck truly coming into his own. It becomes obvious here (and is confirmed by statements made by Steinbeck in the letters found in the appendix) that Lancelot was the true centre of Steinbeck’s tale and was the character through whom he hoped to develop the real through-line of his thoughts on the Arthurian corpus. Lancelot gave the author everything he needed to work through the concepts of human fallibility mixed with nearly superhuman stature. The entire theme of the greatest good often leading to the greatest evil could play out in full measure with all of its varied nuances with Lancelot. From the description of his life as a young boy, hearing Merlin’s prophecy regarding his future peerless knighthood and subsequent desire to fulfill it, to the discontent of a man who has honed himself to perfection and is looking for it in an imperfect and jaded world we really begin to get a glimmer of the power Lancelot held as a character for Steinbeck and the heights the author might have achieved had he finished his work. Alas such was not to be and we are thus left with only a fragment of what might have been so much more. Still a fragment is far preferable to nothing at all.
I can’t close without adding that the letters in the appendix were an unexpectedly intriguing look into the mind of both Steinbeck the man and Steinbeck the writer. His complete love for the Arthurian material (and especially his deeply felt personal connection to Malory as a writer)and single-minded devotion to his research came as something of a surprise to me and it was equally fascinating to get a glimpse of his personal ruminations on the writing process. In addition to these writerly concerns we get to see Steinbeck the man wrestling with his own fears and feelings of inadequacy in a work which he thought “should be the best work of my life and the most satisfying” and which he even felt contained “the best prose [he had] ever written.”
I must first admit that I found myself becoming slightly bored with the first third or so of the text. True to his words in the introduction Steinbeck hews very closely to his source text, Malory’s Le Morte D’Arthur, and generally follows his plan of “leaving out nothing and adding nothing…since in no sense do I wish to rewrite Malory …” in the first four tales: Merlin, The Knight with the Two Swords, The Wedding of King Arthur, and The Death of Merlin. I generally have little use for ‘translations’ of Malory since I don’t really see the point; the Middle English he uses isn’t really that difficult for a modern reader to approach and I generally find that ‘modernizing’ the language simply takes the reader a further step from the text without adding anything of use. Happily for us Steinbeck seems to have taken advice from his editors to heart and in the subsequent tales really starts making the material his own while still staying true to the spirit of Malory. Indeed, from the very first sentence of Morgan le Fay one can see Steinbeck breaking new ground and not simply aping his master. From here on we are treated to a really excellent interpretation of the tales that seeks to investigate the psychology of these figures from myth without reducing them to little more than modern people in medieval drag or diminishing the epic scope of the tales.
Arthur largely remains the peripheral figure he generally has to be for these tales, the enigmatic centre around which all of the other characters revolve and from whom they draw their glory. Despite this Steinbeck does attempt to invest the tragic king with some elements of individuality and provides one or two tantalizing glimpses of the man underneath the myth. We see the king’s early dissatisfaction with the trials of kingship and disappointment in the need to fight rebellion:
Soon after this, Arthur, wearied with campaigns and governing and sick of the dark, deep-walled rooms of castles, ordered his pavilion set up in a green meadow outside the walls where he might rest and recover his strength in the quiet and the sweet air.We see his growth in wisdom as a leader of men:
Then Arthur learned, as all leaders are astonished to learn, that peace, not war, is the destroyer of men; tranquillity rather than danger is the mother of cowardice, and not need but plenty brings apprehension and unease. Finally he found that the longed-for peace, so bitterly achieved, created more bitterness than ever did the anguish of achieving it.Indeed it is this very discontent that prompts Arthur and Guinevere, in Steinbeck’s version of the tales, to ‘trick’ Lancelot into setting an example for the other knights by adopting the lifestyle of the quest, an action that will prove to be both the greatest glory and the greatest sorrow of Arthur’s court. Throughout the work are strewn nuggets of wisdom, often coming from the mouth of Merlin in the earlier stories, and Steinbeck uses these tales of chivalry as an opportunity to meditate on the human condition. Thus we have:
”Somewhere in the world there is defeat for everyone. Some are destroyed by defeat, and some made small and mean by victory. Greatness lives in one who triumphs equally over defeat and victory.”and
”You cannot know a venture from its beginning,” Merlin said. “Greatness is born little. Do not dishonor your feast by ignoring what comes to it. Such is the law of quest.”
I found myself noticing things here that I had missed or glossed over from my initial reading of Malory such as the incongruous nature of the various enchantresses generally known to be “the damsels of the Lady of the Lake and schooled in wonders.” They range from the damsel who gave to Arthur his enchanted sword Excalibur (the same maiden killed by Sir Balin for ostensibly having had his own mother burned at the stake) to the Lady Nyneve, the bane of Merlin who, despite her role in deceiving the besotted old enchanter, stealing his knowledge, and leaving him buried alive is not portrayed as evil. She does this act to gain power, but learns that with great power comes great responsibility. In the end she seems to take on Merlin’s role as protector of the realm, though in a somewhat lessened capacity, and gets her own reward for being true to the lonely path of power that accepts responsibility: the love of the good knight Pelleas. Finally there are also the four queens (including Morgan le Fay) who capture Lancelot and put him to the test with their illusory blandishments. They may or may not be members of this same circle of enchantresses, but they equally represent part of the same intriguing puzzle: just what are they? Members of a school for magic? A group of proto-feminists looking for a way to power in a man's world? Something of both or neither? Some seem to be evil, working deeds of mischance and violence, others good, though often they are no less violent in this world of martial law and divine retribution. Perhaps it’s most appropriate to say that the true test comes in that some work for their own selfish interests while others work for the common good.
It was also refreshing to see the varied characterization of the questing knights (and their three fascinating ladies) in the tale Gawain, Ewain, and Marhalt. Indeed, the entire section provides Steinbeck with interesting character studies, not to mention much fodder for his social and personal concerns. Marhalt rocks and it was very nice to see a knight of Arthur’s court so clear-headed and competent without vainglory…a rare thing. He is a man with both skill and self-knowledge, the quintessential man of experience, and it’s a bit sad to know that his fate in the cycle is to be killed by that jack-ass Tristan (though Steinbeck does not himself tell this episode). The training of young Ewain (in many ways the opposite of Marhalt) by his own Lady was equally wonderful and showed how far Steinbeck had come: much of this tale seems to have been created by Steinbeck himself and yet it in no way felt like he was departing from the spirit of Malory specifically or the Arthurian tales in general.
The final entry The Noble Tale of Sir Lancelot of the Lake shows Steinbeck truly coming into his own. It becomes obvious here (and is confirmed by statements made by Steinbeck in the letters found in the appendix) that Lancelot was the true centre of Steinbeck’s tale and was the character through whom he hoped to develop the real through-line of his thoughts on the Arthurian corpus. Lancelot gave the author everything he needed to work through the concepts of human fallibility mixed with nearly superhuman stature. The entire theme of the greatest good often leading to the greatest evil could play out in full measure with all of its varied nuances with Lancelot. From the description of his life as a young boy, hearing Merlin’s prophecy regarding his future peerless knighthood and subsequent desire to fulfill it, to the discontent of a man who has honed himself to perfection and is looking for it in an imperfect and jaded world we really begin to get a glimmer of the power Lancelot held as a character for Steinbeck and the heights the author might have achieved had he finished his work. Alas such was not to be and we are thus left with only a fragment of what might have been so much more. Still a fragment is far preferable to nothing at all.
I can’t close without adding that the letters in the appendix were an unexpectedly intriguing look into the mind of both Steinbeck the man and Steinbeck the writer. His complete love for the Arthurian material (and especially his deeply felt personal connection to Malory as a writer)and single-minded devotion to his research came as something of a surprise to me and it was equally fascinating to get a glimpse of his personal ruminations on the writing process. In addition to these writerly concerns we get to see Steinbeck the man wrestling with his own fears and feelings of inadequacy in a work which he thought “should be the best work of my life and the most satisfying” and which he even felt contained “the best prose [he had] ever written.”
January 31, 2025
"The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. That is why I am your king."
"Listen. Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony."
This is not your typical Steinbeck novel. If you are expecting King Arthur with a Steinbeck spin, move along; that's not what this is. As far as I can tell from my limited research, John was passionate about these stories and wanted to modernize the writing a bit. It was published posthumously and left unfinished.
I can't say I loved it, and I can't say I hated it; I fall somewhere in the middle. If I wasn't trying to finish all of Steinbeck's works, I probably would have passed on this one. But I'm glad I can check another one off the great John Steinbeck's list.
Bonus points if you know where the quote is from.
"Listen. Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony."
This is not your typical Steinbeck novel. If you are expecting King Arthur with a Steinbeck spin, move along; that's not what this is. As far as I can tell from my limited research, John was passionate about these stories and wanted to modernize the writing a bit. It was published posthumously and left unfinished.
I can't say I loved it, and I can't say I hated it; I fall somewhere in the middle. If I wasn't trying to finish all of Steinbeck's works, I probably would have passed on this one. But I'm glad I can check another one off the great John Steinbeck's list.
Bonus points if you know where the quote is from.
August 10, 2012
I reread this for my dissertation, but also because I've wanted to for a while now, to see if I still loved it as much -- and I don't, I love it more. I still mourn for the book it could have been if Steinbeck had finished it, if he'd edited it to be a more coherent whole. The first few sections are well-written enough, but it's later in the stories that he really decides how to handle his material. He takes the basic events of Malory and breathes the life of a modern novel into them: thoughts and feelings, fears and hopes, humour and understanding. He makes sense of the way Kay's character changes, makes Lancelot likeable and human and his love for Guinevere a real and painful thing.
(If you know me at all, you probably know that I regularly loathe Lancelot and, at best, tolerate him. Steinbeck can do what few others can, and make me not only like him, but make my heart bleed for him. Unfortunately, what time and interest he devotes to Lancelot, he turns away from Gawain, who is most of the worst aspects of himself here.)
More than anything, this time, I was caught by the beauty of Steinbeck's writing. I could quote a dozen bits of this for you and I'd still be here typing up some more tomorrow morning. Again, the first few sections aren't impressive, it's when he gets to Lancelot that he really shines.
I wish I could read and love Malory the way Steinbeck clearly did. But I don't mind so much finding the magic at second-hand, when it's Steinbeck showing me.
(If you know me at all, you probably know that I regularly loathe Lancelot and, at best, tolerate him. Steinbeck can do what few others can, and make me not only like him, but make my heart bleed for him. Unfortunately, what time and interest he devotes to Lancelot, he turns away from Gawain, who is most of the worst aspects of himself here.)
More than anything, this time, I was caught by the beauty of Steinbeck's writing. I could quote a dozen bits of this for you and I'd still be here typing up some more tomorrow morning. Again, the first few sections aren't impressive, it's when he gets to Lancelot that he really shines.
I wish I could read and love Malory the way Steinbeck clearly did. But I don't mind so much finding the magic at second-hand, when it's Steinbeck showing me.
January 3, 2015
I didn't choose to read this book becase I have any particular interest in Arthurian legend. Indeed, until I read this book, almost all of what I knew about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table came from these two films:
and
Rather, I decided to read John Steinbeck's take on Thomas Malory's because of my ambition to be a Steinbeck completist*: it's Steinbeck and his writing that interest me, not folklore.
From reading 's biography of Steinbeck and Steinbeck's collected letters () I knew that Steinbeck's love of Malory's work dated from his childhood. I also knew how passionate he was about this particular project. His intention was to translate Malory, rather than to re-write Le Morte, in order to make the work accessible to modern readers. Steinbeck spent several years researching Malory in particular and Arthurian legend in general before he started writing. He immersed himself in the language and the geograhy of the work and poured his heart and soul into the project. In spite of Steinbeck's passion, it remained unfinished: poor health and the magnitude of the task ultimately defeated him.
For the first third of the book, I was frankly bored. Clearly, Arthurian legend is not my thing. Or else Monty Python's gags and Lerner and Loewe's music and lyrics have ruined my chances of taking seriously Arthur, Merlin, Lancelot, Guinevere and the whole Camelot crew. In any event, I can't work up any interest in battles, quests and damsels in distress.
But then, Steinbeck stopped translating Malory and started writing like Steinbeck and the work was suddenly a lot more interesting. I particularly loved Sir Lancelot's story. I not only stopped being bored, I found myself wishing that Steinbeck had finished the work. That said, the last 25% of the book is, for someone who loves Steinbeck, the most interesting of all. It consists of a series of letters Steinbeck wrote to his literary agent Elizabeth Otis and his researcher Chase Horton. In these letters, Steinbeck is full of insight, fierce intelligence and passion. I remembered some of them from Steinbeck's collected letters, but others I either hadn't read or didn't remember. I should have read this part of the book before I embarked on the Arthurian tales. Had I done so, I would have better understood what it was that Steinbeck was trying to achieve.
All in all, reading this work is a worthwhile experience for a dedicated Steinbeck fan, even though it took a long time for me to realise it. I'm glad I didn't give in to a strong impulse to abandon the work after the first chapter. That said, I won't be reading it again, and it hasn't turned me into an Arthurian fan. John Steinbeck would be very disappointed in me. 3.5 stars.
*Although I'm not yet totally convinced I want to read Steinbeck's first novel, , a fact that tends to undermine my would-be Steinbeck completist credentials.
January 13, 2016
This is a tough one to rate. The story is great but basically it's just a retelling of Morte d'Arthurs tale. I was expecting the story from a different angle told in Stienbecks unique style so I was left disappointed. I've read so many versions that this time I think I just became overwhelmed with all the knights, damsels and cleaving of helms. I was actually having a hard time taking it serious and at some points I couldn't help but picturing scenes from Monty Pythons, Holy Grail. Every time a knight went on a quest I kept expecting him to run into the knights who say "Ni!"
This would be okay for an Arthurian newbie but if you've read other versions you could probably do without this one.
This would be okay for an Arthurian newbie but if you've read other versions you could probably do without this one.
October 12, 2010
Steinbeck's Arthur novel was never completed, and never even properly edited by him. I enjoyed it very much as it is -- I do wish it'd been finished, and edited, and made more consistent. If I rated without considering that, I'd rate it at least one star less. The introduction, claiming that it isn't changed substantially from Malory, isn't true: there's a lot of humanising going on, and some additional humour. If I held Steinbeck to that, too, he'd probably lose a star.
As it is, though, bearing these things in mind, he gets all the stars. I really enjoyed reading his version, particularly after the first few tales -- it felt like, after a while, he felt his way into it, and some of the letters of his included at the end suggest that that's just how it felt to him, which is nice to know. There's a sort of tenderness in the way he treats the tales, a love for them that still allowed him to see the humour a modern audience might find in them.
I liked his treatment of Kay -- a little more understanding than other writers, I think. An attempt to understand him. And the touch of someone catching Arthur crying, which I don't recall being in Malory. And some of the descriptions of Lancelot, particularly through Lyonel's eyes. And here was a Lancelot I could like, too, although of course Steinbeck never got to the parts where Lancelot was a traitor. Still, I felt for Lancelot, in the last few pages.
(For those who know of my affection for Gawain: no, I don't like his portrayal of Gawain. But I'll pass that over.)
One thing I love specially is something that people tend to find lacking in Malory -- knowing what people are feeling, and I'm particularly talking about Lancelot. Malory tells us what he does; Steinbeck tries to tell us why.
And the thing I love best, oh, most of all, is this:
The queen observed, "I gather you rescued damsels by the dozen." She put her fingers on his arm and a searing shock ran through his body, and his mouth opened in amazement at a hollow ache that pressed upwards against his ribs and shortened his breath.
My breath, too.
It's rare because it's a moment that really makes me feel for Lancelot and Guinevere, and for their plight. I think Steinbeck could have caught me up in their story, and hushed my dislike for all they do. I wish he'd written it: I'd like, just once, to be swept up in Lancelot and Guinevere's story, and to buy into it as somehow justified by passion, just as they do. Other writers tell that without showing me it. (Guy Gavriel Kay perhaps excepted, but Lancelot and Guinevere aren't the centre of the story he's telling there.)
I enjoyed it a lot, what there is of it, and this edition also contains a lot of Steinbeck's letters concerning it while he was writing it. Very interesting to read those and get an idea of what was on his mind.
I think part of what I love here is what the stories could have been, more than what they are.
As it is, though, bearing these things in mind, he gets all the stars. I really enjoyed reading his version, particularly after the first few tales -- it felt like, after a while, he felt his way into it, and some of the letters of his included at the end suggest that that's just how it felt to him, which is nice to know. There's a sort of tenderness in the way he treats the tales, a love for them that still allowed him to see the humour a modern audience might find in them.
I liked his treatment of Kay -- a little more understanding than other writers, I think. An attempt to understand him. And the touch of someone catching Arthur crying, which I don't recall being in Malory. And some of the descriptions of Lancelot, particularly through Lyonel's eyes. And here was a Lancelot I could like, too, although of course Steinbeck never got to the parts where Lancelot was a traitor. Still, I felt for Lancelot, in the last few pages.
(For those who know of my affection for Gawain: no, I don't like his portrayal of Gawain. But I'll pass that over.)
One thing I love specially is something that people tend to find lacking in Malory -- knowing what people are feeling, and I'm particularly talking about Lancelot. Malory tells us what he does; Steinbeck tries to tell us why.
And the thing I love best, oh, most of all, is this:
The queen observed, "I gather you rescued damsels by the dozen." She put her fingers on his arm and a searing shock ran through his body, and his mouth opened in amazement at a hollow ache that pressed upwards against his ribs and shortened his breath.
My breath, too.
It's rare because it's a moment that really makes me feel for Lancelot and Guinevere, and for their plight. I think Steinbeck could have caught me up in their story, and hushed my dislike for all they do. I wish he'd written it: I'd like, just once, to be swept up in Lancelot and Guinevere's story, and to buy into it as somehow justified by passion, just as they do. Other writers tell that without showing me it. (Guy Gavriel Kay perhaps excepted, but Lancelot and Guinevere aren't the centre of the story he's telling there.)
I enjoyed it a lot, what there is of it, and this edition also contains a lot of Steinbeck's letters concerning it while he was writing it. Very interesting to read those and get an idea of what was on his mind.
I think part of what I love here is what the stories could have been, more than what they are.
April 29, 2020
I found this hard to get through in the beginning, and was completely hooked by the end - sadly, Steinbeck never finished this. I think the quality of the segments varies, and it feels a little strange to read something that the author never considered finished himself. I wouldn't want someone criticize my writing on a first or second draft. With that said, some of the earlier sections were not that engaging to me. I really didn't find Merlin interesting, for example. These parts felt a bit like reading the Bible or Icelandic sagas. Kind of cool, but very detached and not thrilling.
The Lancelot chapters on the other hand were super engaging. As was the chapter on Gawain. Both times I wished they were longer.
I have never read any other book about King Arthur, so I can't compare this retelling (honestly, the closest I've come is rewatch Monthy Python & The Holy Grail a bunch of times). But I can speak on its literary merit - I was seriously bummed when the book was over.
The Lancelot chapters on the other hand were super engaging. As was the chapter on Gawain. Both times I wished they were longer.
I have never read any other book about King Arthur, so I can't compare this retelling (honestly, the closest I've come is rewatch Monthy Python & The Holy Grail a bunch of times). But I can speak on its literary merit - I was seriously bummed when the book was over.
non-finito
November 16, 2018«Gli scrittori sono una peste. Il meglio che si possa dire di loro è che valgono un po' più degli attori, e questo non è un granché.»
Speravo che Steinbeck riuscisse, per via di qualche incantesimo preso in prestito da Mago Merlino o dalla Fata Morgana, ad appassionarmi al ciclo di Re Artù, a ricordarmi, come una sorta di madeleine proustiana, di tutte quelle volte che alla Vigilia di Natale le mie sorelle e io siamo andate al cinema a vedere 'La spada nella roccia' di Walt Disney, mentre invece… No, proprio no, il miracolo non è avvenuto.
Nonostante scriva nell'appassionante scambio epistolare in appendice che coinvolge lo storico Chase Horton e la sua agente Elizabeth Otis, che la difficoltà è compendiare, in modo che la battaglia rimanga importante, entusiasmante e non si perda in cento scontri di singoli cavalieri, ma la contempo continui a dare la sensazione che la guerra era allora una serie di combattimenti uomo contro uomo, alla fine, fin dove ho letto, cioè circa metà libro, il problema è proprio quello: è un elenco infinito di corpi a corpo del tutto identici tra loro. È un problema, aggiunge. È un problema, dico anche io, un problema infinitamente noioso.
Eppure le premesse c'erano tutte: la penna di Steinbeck (che poi sulle sue penne occorrerà aprire una parentesi a parte, perché una esternazione, che ho trovato esilarante, nelle sue lettere, riguarda proprio l'approvvigionamento dagli Stati Uniti - quando era in Inghilterra per scrivere il romanzo fra il 1958 e i 1959 - che dovevano essere rigorosamente Cross di colore scurissimo - Ho paura di restare senza e divento una creatura così abitudinaria quando scrivo bene che un cambiamento mi irrita.), la passione dell'autore sin da bambino per l'opera di Thomas Malory (autore de Morte d'Arthur e chi è un appassionato del genere sa di cosa sto parlando) pubblicato da Caxton, il desiderio di riscrivere la stessa utilizzando un linguaggio più immediato, tale da poter avere sul lettore del XX secolo lo stesso impatto che la Morte (come familiarmente Steinbeck lo chiama nelle lettere) ebbe sui lettori dell'epoca: Intendo tradurre in inglese moderno, mantenendo, omeglio cercando di ricercare, un ritmo e un tono che sull'orecchio moderno producano lo stesso effetto dell'inglese medievale sull'orecchio del quindicesimo secolo.
Che dire, oltre al fatto che mi chiedo che senso abbia leggere un'opera che si fonda essenzialmente sulla trasposizione dall'anglosassone all'inglese moderno (o addirittura all'americano, come a un certo punto balenò in mente di fare a Steinbeck)in italiano?
Che Steinbeck lavorò al progetto a partire dal 1956, intensificando gli sforzi (come si evince dal carteggio con Horton e Otis iniziato in data 11-11-1956 e conclusosi l'8-7-1965) tra il 1957 e il 1959, viaggiò e studiò moltissimo per raccogliere informazioni non solo sul ciclo arturiano ma anche, e soprattutto nell'ultimo periodo (al punto che credo la sua fosse diventata un'ossessione che probabilmente lo avrebbe portato a essere eternamente insoddisfatto dei risultati), sulla persona di Malory e sulla sua natura di uomo e scrittore, sulle informazioni in suo possesso, sulle condizioni in cui si era trovato a scrivere e su come tracce del ciclo arturiano fossero state trovate persino in Italia nel medioevo, su alcune trapunte siciliane datate 1395 o addirittura nel 1106 scolpite nell'archivolto della cattedrale di Modena, fino ad arrivare ammettere che Il tema, concludevano Steinbeck e Horton, probabilmente, giunse in Sicilia con i conquistatori normanni, ma d'altro canto potrebbe essersi scontrato laggiù con la stessa cosa portata in occidente dagli arabi.
In sostanza, se da una parte ho deciso di non proseguire nella lettura dell'opera (che mi preme sottolineare Steinbeck scrisse ma non terminò né revisionò e che fu pubblicata postuma) perché non c'era proprio nulla che mi spingesse a farlo, dall'altra sono stata entusiasta di leggere l'introduzione dell'autore, la nomina della sorella Elizabeth da parte dello stesso a cavaliere in virtù delle giornate trascorse insieme a giocare a Re Artù, ma soprattutto le già citate lettere: strumento unico per scrutare nell'animo dell'autore, nei suoi dubbi, nelle sue debolezze, nella sua esaltazione; un punto di vista privilegiato per riuscire (in maniera infinitesimale) a seguire il suo processo creativo, il suo senso dell'umorismo, la sua sincera autocritica: Sembra che vi sia qualcosa di necessario alle pressioni. […] In effetti, i soli periodi realmente improduttivi che riesca rammentare furono quelli in cui non esistevano pressioni. […] Forse, quindi, farei bene a pregare non già per la serenità, ma per la carestia, la peste, la catastrofe e la bancarotta. Allora, probabilmente, lavorerei come un figlio di puttana. Sono relativamente serio al riguardo.
E allora, anche se non sono contenta di quello che ho letto, sono comunque contenta di aver intrapreso questo viaggio, perché, per dirla con le parole dello stesso Steinbeck, Non soltanto il tempo o la continuità sono importanti, ma sto prendendo nota del fatto che vi sono due termini in un viaggio… ciò da cui ti allontani oltre a ciò verso cui ti rechi.
Le penne di John Steinbeck:
27-8-1959
Stamane ho scritto la nona lettera al Custom end Excise Office di Londra per la questione delle penne a sfera. Ho dovuto ottenere il permesso di importazione, quattro lettere, riempire moduli, tre lettere.
Ora ho detto loro, se non possono consegnarmi le dannate penne, di sequestrarle e consegnarle nell'oceano.
10-9-1959
[…] Di' per favore a Chase che ho finalmente avuto le penne dopo aver scritto l'ultima lettera dicendo che le gettassero in mare o ne facessero quel che volevano.
[Senza contare che ora, grazie a lui, ho scoperto la .
Cream tea di Devonshire, Devon, Inghilterra
Grazie ai suoi rigogliosi pascoli naturali, la "clotted cream" (panna rappresa) di Devonshire è uno dei tipi di panna più deliziosi che possiate gustare. Per chi non abbia mai avuto l'occasione di assaggiarla, ricordiamo che la clotted cream è una crema densa e vellutata particolarmente gustosa se spalmata su uno scone (focaccina dolce) appena sfornato con l'aggiunta di abbondante marmellata di fragole. Abbinate questo delizioso dolce a una tazza di tè caldo e gusterete il tipico cream tea di Devonshire.]
Speravo che Steinbeck riuscisse, per via di qualche incantesimo preso in prestito da Mago Merlino o dalla Fata Morgana, ad appassionarmi al ciclo di Re Artù, a ricordarmi, come una sorta di madeleine proustiana, di tutte quelle volte che alla Vigilia di Natale le mie sorelle e io siamo andate al cinema a vedere 'La spada nella roccia' di Walt Disney, mentre invece… No, proprio no, il miracolo non è avvenuto.
Nonostante scriva nell'appassionante scambio epistolare in appendice che coinvolge lo storico Chase Horton e la sua agente Elizabeth Otis, che la difficoltà è compendiare, in modo che la battaglia rimanga importante, entusiasmante e non si perda in cento scontri di singoli cavalieri, ma la contempo continui a dare la sensazione che la guerra era allora una serie di combattimenti uomo contro uomo, alla fine, fin dove ho letto, cioè circa metà libro, il problema è proprio quello: è un elenco infinito di corpi a corpo del tutto identici tra loro. È un problema, aggiunge. È un problema, dico anche io, un problema infinitamente noioso.
Eppure le premesse c'erano tutte: la penna di Steinbeck (che poi sulle sue penne occorrerà aprire una parentesi a parte, perché una esternazione, che ho trovato esilarante, nelle sue lettere, riguarda proprio l'approvvigionamento dagli Stati Uniti - quando era in Inghilterra per scrivere il romanzo fra il 1958 e i 1959 - che dovevano essere rigorosamente Cross di colore scurissimo - Ho paura di restare senza e divento una creatura così abitudinaria quando scrivo bene che un cambiamento mi irrita.), la passione dell'autore sin da bambino per l'opera di Thomas Malory (autore de Morte d'Arthur e chi è un appassionato del genere sa di cosa sto parlando) pubblicato da Caxton, il desiderio di riscrivere la stessa utilizzando un linguaggio più immediato, tale da poter avere sul lettore del XX secolo lo stesso impatto che la Morte (come familiarmente Steinbeck lo chiama nelle lettere) ebbe sui lettori dell'epoca: Intendo tradurre in inglese moderno, mantenendo, omeglio cercando di ricercare, un ritmo e un tono che sull'orecchio moderno producano lo stesso effetto dell'inglese medievale sull'orecchio del quindicesimo secolo.
Che dire, oltre al fatto che mi chiedo che senso abbia leggere un'opera che si fonda essenzialmente sulla trasposizione dall'anglosassone all'inglese moderno (o addirittura all'americano, come a un certo punto balenò in mente di fare a Steinbeck)in italiano?
Che Steinbeck lavorò al progetto a partire dal 1956, intensificando gli sforzi (come si evince dal carteggio con Horton e Otis iniziato in data 11-11-1956 e conclusosi l'8-7-1965) tra il 1957 e il 1959, viaggiò e studiò moltissimo per raccogliere informazioni non solo sul ciclo arturiano ma anche, e soprattutto nell'ultimo periodo (al punto che credo la sua fosse diventata un'ossessione che probabilmente lo avrebbe portato a essere eternamente insoddisfatto dei risultati), sulla persona di Malory e sulla sua natura di uomo e scrittore, sulle informazioni in suo possesso, sulle condizioni in cui si era trovato a scrivere e su come tracce del ciclo arturiano fossero state trovate persino in Italia nel medioevo, su alcune trapunte siciliane datate 1395 o addirittura nel 1106 scolpite nell'archivolto della cattedrale di Modena, fino ad arrivare ammettere che Il tema, concludevano Steinbeck e Horton, probabilmente, giunse in Sicilia con i conquistatori normanni, ma d'altro canto potrebbe essersi scontrato laggiù con la stessa cosa portata in occidente dagli arabi.
In sostanza, se da una parte ho deciso di non proseguire nella lettura dell'opera (che mi preme sottolineare Steinbeck scrisse ma non terminò né revisionò e che fu pubblicata postuma) perché non c'era proprio nulla che mi spingesse a farlo, dall'altra sono stata entusiasta di leggere l'introduzione dell'autore, la nomina della sorella Elizabeth da parte dello stesso a cavaliere in virtù delle giornate trascorse insieme a giocare a Re Artù, ma soprattutto le già citate lettere: strumento unico per scrutare nell'animo dell'autore, nei suoi dubbi, nelle sue debolezze, nella sua esaltazione; un punto di vista privilegiato per riuscire (in maniera infinitesimale) a seguire il suo processo creativo, il suo senso dell'umorismo, la sua sincera autocritica: Sembra che vi sia qualcosa di necessario alle pressioni. […] In effetti, i soli periodi realmente improduttivi che riesca rammentare furono quelli in cui non esistevano pressioni. […] Forse, quindi, farei bene a pregare non già per la serenità, ma per la carestia, la peste, la catastrofe e la bancarotta. Allora, probabilmente, lavorerei come un figlio di puttana. Sono relativamente serio al riguardo.
E allora, anche se non sono contenta di quello che ho letto, sono comunque contenta di aver intrapreso questo viaggio, perché, per dirla con le parole dello stesso Steinbeck, Non soltanto il tempo o la continuità sono importanti, ma sto prendendo nota del fatto che vi sono due termini in un viaggio… ciò da cui ti allontani oltre a ciò verso cui ti rechi.
Le penne di John Steinbeck:
27-8-1959
Stamane ho scritto la nona lettera al Custom end Excise Office di Londra per la questione delle penne a sfera. Ho dovuto ottenere il permesso di importazione, quattro lettere, riempire moduli, tre lettere.
Ora ho detto loro, se non possono consegnarmi le dannate penne, di sequestrarle e consegnarle nell'oceano.
10-9-1959
[…] Di' per favore a Chase che ho finalmente avuto le penne dopo aver scritto l'ultima lettera dicendo che le gettassero in mare o ne facessero quel che volevano.
[Senza contare che ora, grazie a lui, ho scoperto la .
Cream tea di Devonshire, Devon, Inghilterra
Grazie ai suoi rigogliosi pascoli naturali, la "clotted cream" (panna rappresa) di Devonshire è uno dei tipi di panna più deliziosi che possiate gustare. Per chi non abbia mai avuto l'occasione di assaggiarla, ricordiamo che la clotted cream è una crema densa e vellutata particolarmente gustosa se spalmata su uno scone (focaccina dolce) appena sfornato con l'aggiunta di abbondante marmellata di fragole. Abbinate questo delizioso dolce a una tazza di tè caldo e gusterete il tipico cream tea di Devonshire.]
March 26, 2016
From a Steinbeck letter dated July 7, 1958. "There is only one complete Morte d'Arthur in existence and that is the Caxton first edition which is in the Morgan Library in New York. There is the earlier manuscript at Winchester College in England that by misfortune of lacking eight sheets at the end might be the one unimpeachable source. This then is my basic material for translation". Steinbeck loved this project and put three years into it. A direct quote from Wiki: Steinbeck took a "living approach" to the retelling of Malory's work. He followed Malory's structure and retained the original chapter titles, but he explored the psychological underpinning of the events, and tuned the use of language to sound natural and accessible to a Modern English speaker........
Malory wrote the stories for and to his time. Any man hearing him knew every word and every reference. There was nothing obscure, he wrote the clear and common speech of his time and country. But that has changed—the words and references are no longer common property, for a new language has come into being. Malory did not write the stories. He simply wrote them for his time and his time understood them... And with that, almost by enchantment the words began to flow.[5] Steinbeck aced this one. Beautifully told.
Malory wrote the stories for and to his time. Any man hearing him knew every word and every reference. There was nothing obscure, he wrote the clear and common speech of his time and country. But that has changed—the words and references are no longer common property, for a new language has come into being. Malory did not write the stories. He simply wrote them for his time and his time understood them... And with that, almost by enchantment the words began to flow.[5] Steinbeck aced this one. Beautifully told.
August 14, 2018
I didn't even know this existed until I found an old copy in a used book store. It is incredibly neat that one of my writing idols translated Sir Thomas Malory's Arthurian tales from Middle English into modern English and then added a little bit to the stories where he felt there were gaps. The result is a series of tales that become accessible to current audiences. The best part for me was the final 60 pages, containing Steinbeck's personal letters discussing his translation. Steinbeck goes into detail on his approach to editing and translating, the problems he is having in both regards, and how he plans to fix those issues. Those pages in particular are a must read for anyone who has ever tried to edit or translate someone's work.
January 4, 2023
Urgh! This was a mixed bag because the writing quality was so uneven. Some parts were interesting character portraits while others were lackluster rushed action scenes. I mean it makes sense because it's a draft, not really a complete body of work, but the foreword and the introduction just made things even worse for me. There's so much to question about the direction of the novel, but there's a part of me that's glad he didn't finish it.
January 6, 2025
“the Arthurian cycle and practically all lasting and deep-seated folklore is a mixture of profundity and childish nonsense. If you keep the profundity and throw out the nonsense, some essence is lost. These are dream stories, fixed and universal dreams, and they have the inconsistency of dreams. Very well, says I—if they are dreams, I will put in some of my own, and I did.”
one of the most unique books i’ve read as it’s a work in progress; steinbeck died before finishing his take on thomas malory’s , so it is supplemented with letters that steinbeck wrote throughout the course of working on the project. it’s fascinating to see how steinbeck grappled with translating 15th century middle english into something accessible to contemporary audiences. in the first few stories, it seems that he tried to hew close to the original text; it’s mostly “this knight killed that knight, and this knight killed that knight,” and so on and so forth. it’s a bit of a slog. but as steinbeck became more immersed in the writing, he became more comfortable infusing his own voice into the work. the final two stories—the triple quest and sir lancelot—show this clearly: you see the classic steinbeck flair when he dwells on the beauty of nature and writes of love and loneliness. plus, he gives the best lines in the book to morgan le fay and her fellow enchantresses. (the appendix indicates that he intended to write an essay about malory’s views on women, which sadly does not make it into this book. but you get a glimpse of where steinbeck’s heart was at from the dedication, where he elevates his sister to knighthood.)
in short, you’re not going to get the full arthurian legend here—this book ends before the holy grail, for example—but steinbeck enjoyers will find lots to love. the appendix is a treasure; it’s a joy to read steinbeck’s letters and see how his research, travels, and musings shaped the trajectory of this work.
February 29, 2020
Steinbeck’s epic retelling of Mallory’s ‘Death of Arthur’ is an absolute joy to read. Such a shame that it remains unfinished due to his passing away.
June 12, 2023
A really good watered down version of the stories of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Much easier to digest than Thomas Mallory’s Le’Mort de Arthur. That being said, I enjoyed TH White’s The Once and Future King even more. This was a work in progress that unfortunately Steinbeck wasn’t able to finish working through this passion project before he died. It isn’t perfect (unlike most of Steinbeck’s works), but it’s definitely worth reading if you have an interest in King Arthur.
April 27, 2023
It befell in the days of yore, as I rode by a book-stall in a great city, that mine eye was caught by a fair volume of great renown: the noble acts and deeds of King Arthur and his knights, written by a worthy scribe named John Steinbeck, from the fair countrie of Salinas. And I was much astonished and pleased, and took it in mine hand and paid the price thereof. And yet so committed was I to other literary adventures that is only now, yea even now, that I was able to retire to my estates and cast my eye on these noble words.
Right, so if you’re not up on your Mallory, then I’ll translate. Two years ago while exploring a thrift store, I stumbled upon a version of the King Arthur stories by John Steinbeck, of all people. Steinbeck writes at the opening that it was Mallory who made him fall in love with language, with words that could bewitch the mind. Some stories of Arthur and his knights then follow, though not all of them: Steinbeck estimated it would be a ten-year project, given the amount of research needed to do justice to the mission, and died before its completion.
The included tales cover the rise of Arthur, his knights’ work in consolidating his power, and then the rise of questing to keep his men’s skills sharp and their minds out of mischief. Although I found to some degree what I was expecting – Arthur, Merlin, lots of adventure and questing – I encountered surprise after surprise. Admittedly, my sketchy-at-best knowledge of Arthurian lore helped. I knew from that faithful adaptation of Arthurian lore, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, that Arthur’s father was Uther Pendragon: I did not know that Uther was a rapacious lech who, on spotting his vassal’s wife , the lady Igraine, immediately attempted to make her his and resorted to sorcery when war would not suffice. Arthur was the result. Fortunately for Arthur, his mum’s cuckholded hubs had the good grace to immediately get himself killed in war, sparing any nasty scenes with Medieval Maury Povich. Another surprise was the ‘death’ of Merlin, who was sealed up in a cave after a young woman seduced him into teaching her all of his knowledge of magical lore. Sounds villainous, but no – she simply replaces him as a quasi-guardian of the realm.
Although it’s his name on the front cover, Arthur plays a curiously small role after the introductory stories. Most of the stories are about Arthur’s men, and I’d heard of very few of them. This is a world thick with chivalry and fancy, as knights constantly challenge one another, which is so tiresome that Merlin makes Arthur invisible at one point so he won’t be challenged for the nth time that day. There are several stories in here more interesting than most, like that of a young knight-errant who is mentored by a would-be warrior named Lyne, who regards herself as far more able in horsemanship and war than most knights, and indeed demonstrates studied insight into the errors of custom, as she points out to the knight the ways his armor is inferior, despite its brilliant appearance, and offers him advice into adjusting his stirrups as so not to be too top-heavy. This gives the book an interesting mix of fine technical detail along with its fantasy elements like giants and fairy-made swords. Another surprise came in a story about Lancelot being captured by four queens, all of whom are versed in magic, who are bored with their power and wealth and want to feature Lancelot in a little game in which he, like Paris, has to choose between their beauty and bribes. Lancelot, protected from the lady-types thanks to his courtly devotion to Guinevere, instead argues with them, and several fascinating discussions follow. Unfortunately for Lancelot, when he returns from questing Guinevere touches his arm in thankful greeting, and his courtly love becomes something altogether different. The final ramifications of Lancelot’s undoing don’t feature here, though. Perhaps my favorite moment of the book came when a man effectively tried to kill an unarmored and unarmed Lancelot, who survives only through wit and use of the elements around him: the vanquished brute’s wife comes out to harangue Lancelot for dispatching her oafish mate to perdition, and he tells her (in so many words) that were he not a knight, he’d spank her.
The Acts of King Arthur and his Knights proved entertaining and surprising. I’m glad Steinbeck took on the project and am sad he was not able to finish it, given his love of the subject and his ability to bring these stories to life in both fancy and earnestness.
Right, so if you’re not up on your Mallory, then I’ll translate. Two years ago while exploring a thrift store, I stumbled upon a version of the King Arthur stories by John Steinbeck, of all people. Steinbeck writes at the opening that it was Mallory who made him fall in love with language, with words that could bewitch the mind. Some stories of Arthur and his knights then follow, though not all of them: Steinbeck estimated it would be a ten-year project, given the amount of research needed to do justice to the mission, and died before its completion.
The included tales cover the rise of Arthur, his knights’ work in consolidating his power, and then the rise of questing to keep his men’s skills sharp and their minds out of mischief. Although I found to some degree what I was expecting – Arthur, Merlin, lots of adventure and questing – I encountered surprise after surprise. Admittedly, my sketchy-at-best knowledge of Arthurian lore helped. I knew from that faithful adaptation of Arthurian lore, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, that Arthur’s father was Uther Pendragon: I did not know that Uther was a rapacious lech who, on spotting his vassal’s wife , the lady Igraine, immediately attempted to make her his and resorted to sorcery when war would not suffice. Arthur was the result. Fortunately for Arthur, his mum’s cuckholded hubs had the good grace to immediately get himself killed in war, sparing any nasty scenes with Medieval Maury Povich. Another surprise was the ‘death’ of Merlin, who was sealed up in a cave after a young woman seduced him into teaching her all of his knowledge of magical lore. Sounds villainous, but no – she simply replaces him as a quasi-guardian of the realm.
Although it’s his name on the front cover, Arthur plays a curiously small role after the introductory stories. Most of the stories are about Arthur’s men, and I’d heard of very few of them. This is a world thick with chivalry and fancy, as knights constantly challenge one another, which is so tiresome that Merlin makes Arthur invisible at one point so he won’t be challenged for the nth time that day. There are several stories in here more interesting than most, like that of a young knight-errant who is mentored by a would-be warrior named Lyne, who regards herself as far more able in horsemanship and war than most knights, and indeed demonstrates studied insight into the errors of custom, as she points out to the knight the ways his armor is inferior, despite its brilliant appearance, and offers him advice into adjusting his stirrups as so not to be too top-heavy. This gives the book an interesting mix of fine technical detail along with its fantasy elements like giants and fairy-made swords. Another surprise came in a story about Lancelot being captured by four queens, all of whom are versed in magic, who are bored with their power and wealth and want to feature Lancelot in a little game in which he, like Paris, has to choose between their beauty and bribes. Lancelot, protected from the lady-types thanks to his courtly devotion to Guinevere, instead argues with them, and several fascinating discussions follow. Unfortunately for Lancelot, when he returns from questing Guinevere touches his arm in thankful greeting, and his courtly love becomes something altogether different. The final ramifications of Lancelot’s undoing don’t feature here, though. Perhaps my favorite moment of the book came when a man effectively tried to kill an unarmored and unarmed Lancelot, who survives only through wit and use of the elements around him: the vanquished brute’s wife comes out to harangue Lancelot for dispatching her oafish mate to perdition, and he tells her (in so many words) that were he not a knight, he’d spank her.
The Acts of King Arthur and his Knights proved entertaining and surprising. I’m glad Steinbeck took on the project and am sad he was not able to finish it, given his love of the subject and his ability to bring these stories to life in both fancy and earnestness.
September 25, 2022
On snap. I have a feeling what I’m about to write may not be received well by some.
This was BORING. And on top of that it was one of the most misogynistic things I’ve ever read.
The examples are numerous but here are two that stick out in my mind.
One of these knights spent an entire year with a “damsel” on a quest and at the end another knight asked her name and he said “I don’t know. I never asked.” Is this supposed to be funny? Am I actually reading Monty Python’s Quest for the Holy Grail?
And the worst example: A maiden wanted Lancelot to put a stop to another knight who was assaulting women, but he wanted to use her as bait to make sure she was telling the truth…
Maiden: “Do you distrust me, sir?”
Lancelot: “No. But I have known ladies to discover rape in an unsolicited kiss, and others who issued an invitation perhaps unknowing and cried havoc when it was accepted.”
WTAH.
I’m enchanted by the legends of Arthur and his knights…the ideas that men fought for what is right and true and just…but this book really isn’t like that at all. These men were full of themselves, full of lust, and drunk on power. It wasn’t enchanting to read at all. The only woman in here who was painted in a decent light was an older woman who trained a knight in the middle of the story. ALL of the women who were young or middle aged where shown as enchantresses, seductresses, or just dummies who would tear each other down to make themselves feel better “It is the habit of women to put the blame on women”.
John Steinbeck is a good writer, no doubt, but this ain’t it fam.
This was BORING. And on top of that it was one of the most misogynistic things I’ve ever read.
The examples are numerous but here are two that stick out in my mind.
One of these knights spent an entire year with a “damsel” on a quest and at the end another knight asked her name and he said “I don’t know. I never asked.” Is this supposed to be funny? Am I actually reading Monty Python’s Quest for the Holy Grail?
And the worst example: A maiden wanted Lancelot to put a stop to another knight who was assaulting women, but he wanted to use her as bait to make sure she was telling the truth…
Maiden: “Do you distrust me, sir?”
Lancelot: “No. But I have known ladies to discover rape in an unsolicited kiss, and others who issued an invitation perhaps unknowing and cried havoc when it was accepted.”
WTAH.
I’m enchanted by the legends of Arthur and his knights…the ideas that men fought for what is right and true and just…but this book really isn’t like that at all. These men were full of themselves, full of lust, and drunk on power. It wasn’t enchanting to read at all. The only woman in here who was painted in a decent light was an older woman who trained a knight in the middle of the story. ALL of the women who were young or middle aged where shown as enchantresses, seductresses, or just dummies who would tear each other down to make themselves feel better “It is the habit of women to put the blame on women”.
John Steinbeck is a good writer, no doubt, but this ain’t it fam.
March 5, 2019
For lovers of King Arthur, his knights, the continuing mythical tales, those who loved the Malory book as children, as well as anyone interested in the work and dedication that goes into writing a book. Steinbeck's letters during the period of time he was researching and working on a King Arthur book he would never finish. The truly remarkable effort was conducted in the late 1950's and I do not know enough about Steinbeck to know how or why he ended things. Shortly after he put it to bed, it was 1961 when his last novel was published, The Winter of our Discontent.
November 27, 2019
This thing is an overlooked classic, and somewhat brilliant. You should probably read it. If you're a writer, the 67-page appendix of his letters on the project are an instruction manual on their own.
I no longer recall when or where I bought this book -- it has a vendor logo sticker, but I can't identify it -- though I suspect it might have been A Common Reader. In any case, having a lifelong interest in Arthurian literature, I was startled to learn that Steinbeck had worked on a version of Morte D'Arthur (and intrigued that he never finished or published it), so I snatched it up.
Then, of course, it seasoned on my To Read shelves for decades, because that's the state of things here.
Steinbeck had grown tired of the kind of work he'd been doing up to that point, and this project, with a huge amount of associated scholarship, was apparently a "mid-life" (he worked on this in his mid-to-late 50s, just before the Travels with Charley trip, giving up about 9 years before he died) re-invention. [Note that the detached study he built in Sag Harbor was named Joyous Garde in honor of the project. Photos at ]
Oh, how I wish he had finished it! What exists is a remarkable achievement, it has a very interesting vision, and the bonus for this edition is an extended collection of his correspondence relating to the project (which is enlightening and heartwrenching).
Let me briefly quote the modern English translation of the Middle English dedication at the beginning of the volume:
When I was nine, I took siege with King Arthur's fellowship of knights most proud and worshipful as any alive. --In those days there was a great lack of hardy and noble-hearted squires to bear shield and sword, to buckle harness, and to succor wounded knights. -- Then it chanced that squire-like duties fell to my sister of six years, who for gentle prowess had no peer living. --It sometimes happens in sadness and pity that faithful service is not appreciated, so my fair and loyal sister remained unrecognized as squire. --Wherefore this day I make amends within my power and raise her to knighthood and give her praise. --And from this hour she shall be called Sir Marie Steinbeck of Salinas Valley. --God give her worship without peril. John Steinbeck of Monterey, Knight.
[After reading that, I was all in.] It seems that Malory was the text that got Steinbeck reading, and the Middle English was the mind-opening element. He had not been interested in reading before that. And, many years later, he realized that Arthurian knockoffs were readily available, but Malory himself had become inaccessible. So he decided he would "translate" Malory, and the more he looked at it he decided that the Winchester manuscripts were more "authentic" to Malory than the Caxton, so he shifted to that source, primarily. But as he took up the actual composition, and under pressure from his agent and advisors, he decided to rewrite the text somewhat, to make it a modern reflection of Malory, without losing the flavor or the original intent. I very much like the approach he finally settled on, and I am in great sympathy with his view of what the Arthur story really is, for the modern reader.
Here's a sample of an added Steinbeck scene, reflecting his historical research, and also reflecting the fact that Malory knew that Arthur was Early Middle Ages but set the story in the era of plate armor and jousting: [setting is Wales]
In the ninth month, with the year well turned, the lady Lyne conducted Ewain over the brow of the hill where he had never been, and in a sheltered vale they came upon a dozen of the broad dark truculent men of the country, who had there set up butts under the river trees, and where they practiced with bows as tall as themselves and arrows that drew back to the ear. The arrows flew with angry whispers; the butts were small and far away, but the shafts found them.
"Here is the future," the lady said. "Here is the death of knighthood."
"Why, what do you mean, my lady? This is a pleasant sport."
"True," she said. "But give me twenty of these peasant sportsmen and I will stop twenty knights."
"This is insane," he cried. "These toys are insects to an armed knight."
"You think so? Give me your shield and breastplate." And when he had disarmed she had the armor hung on a stake a hundred paces distant. "Now, Daffyd," she said, "shoot eight and rapidly."
The arrows flew as though threaded together, and when the armor was fetched it was a flattened pincushion, and inside where a man would have been, four of the iron-headed shafts had driven.
The writing is lovely, the basic structure is Malory, but Steinbeck decided that mindless repetition of scenes could be cut (usually by a quick summary), and that actions that were portrayed should be given proper motivation. So he makes it a true modern story, rather than what is sometimes a confusing grab bag of odd, unexplained events. (Steinbeck became convinced that Malory learned how to tell a story as he went along, so he's a bad writer at the beginning, and a great novelist toward the end.) The training of Ewain in "Gawain, Ewain, and Marhalt" is just excellent. Just excellent.
What I learned from the letters at the end was that my own ideas about the Arthur story reflect the views of a Nobel laureate. I've been imagining a possible Arthur project (have a rather thick file of notes) and I'd settled on two key items. It should NOT be in Arthur POV, because Arthur is basically unknowable, and should be described by his actions, not by his thoughts. And it should turn very dark in the last act, because Arthur's project, when you get down to it, can be seen as Dark, or even evil. So it was with considerable relief to see Steinbeck explain his project to his editor and agent in this fashion:
Where does the myth -- the legend -- start? Back of the Celtic version it stretches back to India and probably before. It splits on the migration -- part going to Greece, part to Semitic exits, part coming up through Georgia and Russia and Germany to Scandinavia and crammed with the Norse and part in Iberia and Celtic Gaul flooding up to Britain, Ireland, Scotland, where it incubates and there moves out again all over the world. Where do you stop or limit it? I chose to start with Malory who was the best writer, better than the French, better than the parts of the Mabinogion and closer to our general understanding. White brilliantly puts the story in the dialects of present-day England. I did not want to do that. I wanted an English that was out of time and place as legend is. The people of legend are not people as we know them. They are figures. Christ is not a person, he is a figure. Buddha is a squatting symbol. As a person Malory's Arthur is a fool. As a legend he is timeless. You can't explain him in human terms any more than you can explain Jesus. As a person Jesus is a fool. At any time in the story he could have stopped the process or changed the direction. He has only one human incident in the whole sequence -- the lama sabach-thani on the cross when the pain was too great. It is the nature of the hero to be a fool. The Western sheriff, the present literary prototype as exemplified by Gary Cooper, is invariably a fool. He would be small and mean if he were clever. Cleverness, even wisdom, is the property of the villain in all myths. I am not writing to titillate the ear of the twentieth century. Perhaps I am overambitious, but I am trying to make it available, not desirable. I want the remote feeling of the myth, not the intimate feeling of today's man who in his daily thought may change tomorrow but who in his deeper perceptions, I am convinced, does not change at all. In a word I have not been trying to write a popular book but a permanent book. I should have told you all of this.
[I'll get back to why he wrote this explanation in a moment.] Also, from the same letter, there's this bit that discusses the narrative style he selected, and then gets back to the point of the whole project:
...Also, by their nature, these stories must be spare. In the additions I have made, I've tried to keep to that spareness.
I know I seem to be defining my thesis and that's exactly what I am doing. But there are some things I don't understand. [He's referring to their criticisms in earlier letters. --Tim] You say the killing of the babies is an unkingly retelling of the Herod story. But that is the theme of the whole legend. The Herod story is simply another version of the timeless principle that human planning cannot deflect fate. The whole legend is a retelling of human experience. It is a version of "Power corrupts."
Amen, say I.
So those two explanations are part of the annoying/heartbreaking part of this volume. It seems that Steinbeck's agent and his potential publisher were trying to get him to become a historical novelist, which they saw as a way to make him a mega-bestseller. They wanted him to be T.H. White for adults, and weren't in any sympathy with a Malory translation. They threw T. H. White in his face in the letter rejecting his attempts so far, and also "Camelot" which was coming out about then. It seems that they had been pushing him in that direction all along, pretending to be supportive of his original plan, while intending to subvert it.
And they probably had a point, initially. Reading some of the early drafts, they pushed him to be "more Steinbeck" and that seems to have been wisdom. Parts of this really are mostly a "translation" of Malory, and those are the least interesting. So, yes, he benefitted from a push to make the project his own. But they turned down a classic because it wasn't as commercial as they'd have liked, and I have put pissing on their graves high on my bucket list. His research-editor knew better, and is the actual editor of this posthumous edition, but it is suspected that he remained silent at the time because he was in a relationship with one of the others.
In the end, Steinbeck put the project on the back burner, and so it ends with "The Noble Tale of Sir Lancelot of the Lake."
Damn and blast.
I no longer recall when or where I bought this book -- it has a vendor logo sticker, but I can't identify it -- though I suspect it might have been A Common Reader. In any case, having a lifelong interest in Arthurian literature, I was startled to learn that Steinbeck had worked on a version of Morte D'Arthur (and intrigued that he never finished or published it), so I snatched it up.
Then, of course, it seasoned on my To Read shelves for decades, because that's the state of things here.
Steinbeck had grown tired of the kind of work he'd been doing up to that point, and this project, with a huge amount of associated scholarship, was apparently a "mid-life" (he worked on this in his mid-to-late 50s, just before the Travels with Charley trip, giving up about 9 years before he died) re-invention. [Note that the detached study he built in Sag Harbor was named Joyous Garde in honor of the project. Photos at ]
Oh, how I wish he had finished it! What exists is a remarkable achievement, it has a very interesting vision, and the bonus for this edition is an extended collection of his correspondence relating to the project (which is enlightening and heartwrenching).
Let me briefly quote the modern English translation of the Middle English dedication at the beginning of the volume:
When I was nine, I took siege with King Arthur's fellowship of knights most proud and worshipful as any alive. --In those days there was a great lack of hardy and noble-hearted squires to bear shield and sword, to buckle harness, and to succor wounded knights. -- Then it chanced that squire-like duties fell to my sister of six years, who for gentle prowess had no peer living. --It sometimes happens in sadness and pity that faithful service is not appreciated, so my fair and loyal sister remained unrecognized as squire. --Wherefore this day I make amends within my power and raise her to knighthood and give her praise. --And from this hour she shall be called Sir Marie Steinbeck of Salinas Valley. --God give her worship without peril. John Steinbeck of Monterey, Knight.
[After reading that, I was all in.] It seems that Malory was the text that got Steinbeck reading, and the Middle English was the mind-opening element. He had not been interested in reading before that. And, many years later, he realized that Arthurian knockoffs were readily available, but Malory himself had become inaccessible. So he decided he would "translate" Malory, and the more he looked at it he decided that the Winchester manuscripts were more "authentic" to Malory than the Caxton, so he shifted to that source, primarily. But as he took up the actual composition, and under pressure from his agent and advisors, he decided to rewrite the text somewhat, to make it a modern reflection of Malory, without losing the flavor or the original intent. I very much like the approach he finally settled on, and I am in great sympathy with his view of what the Arthur story really is, for the modern reader.
Here's a sample of an added Steinbeck scene, reflecting his historical research, and also reflecting the fact that Malory knew that Arthur was Early Middle Ages but set the story in the era of plate armor and jousting: [setting is Wales]
In the ninth month, with the year well turned, the lady Lyne conducted Ewain over the brow of the hill where he had never been, and in a sheltered vale they came upon a dozen of the broad dark truculent men of the country, who had there set up butts under the river trees, and where they practiced with bows as tall as themselves and arrows that drew back to the ear. The arrows flew with angry whispers; the butts were small and far away, but the shafts found them.
"Here is the future," the lady said. "Here is the death of knighthood."
"Why, what do you mean, my lady? This is a pleasant sport."
"True," she said. "But give me twenty of these peasant sportsmen and I will stop twenty knights."
"This is insane," he cried. "These toys are insects to an armed knight."
"You think so? Give me your shield and breastplate." And when he had disarmed she had the armor hung on a stake a hundred paces distant. "Now, Daffyd," she said, "shoot eight and rapidly."
The arrows flew as though threaded together, and when the armor was fetched it was a flattened pincushion, and inside where a man would have been, four of the iron-headed shafts had driven.
The writing is lovely, the basic structure is Malory, but Steinbeck decided that mindless repetition of scenes could be cut (usually by a quick summary), and that actions that were portrayed should be given proper motivation. So he makes it a true modern story, rather than what is sometimes a confusing grab bag of odd, unexplained events. (Steinbeck became convinced that Malory learned how to tell a story as he went along, so he's a bad writer at the beginning, and a great novelist toward the end.) The training of Ewain in "Gawain, Ewain, and Marhalt" is just excellent. Just excellent.
What I learned from the letters at the end was that my own ideas about the Arthur story reflect the views of a Nobel laureate. I've been imagining a possible Arthur project (have a rather thick file of notes) and I'd settled on two key items. It should NOT be in Arthur POV, because Arthur is basically unknowable, and should be described by his actions, not by his thoughts. And it should turn very dark in the last act, because Arthur's project, when you get down to it, can be seen as Dark, or even evil. So it was with considerable relief to see Steinbeck explain his project to his editor and agent in this fashion:
Where does the myth -- the legend -- start? Back of the Celtic version it stretches back to India and probably before. It splits on the migration -- part going to Greece, part to Semitic exits, part coming up through Georgia and Russia and Germany to Scandinavia and crammed with the Norse and part in Iberia and Celtic Gaul flooding up to Britain, Ireland, Scotland, where it incubates and there moves out again all over the world. Where do you stop or limit it? I chose to start with Malory who was the best writer, better than the French, better than the parts of the Mabinogion and closer to our general understanding. White brilliantly puts the story in the dialects of present-day England. I did not want to do that. I wanted an English that was out of time and place as legend is. The people of legend are not people as we know them. They are figures. Christ is not a person, he is a figure. Buddha is a squatting symbol. As a person Malory's Arthur is a fool. As a legend he is timeless. You can't explain him in human terms any more than you can explain Jesus. As a person Jesus is a fool. At any time in the story he could have stopped the process or changed the direction. He has only one human incident in the whole sequence -- the lama sabach-thani on the cross when the pain was too great. It is the nature of the hero to be a fool. The Western sheriff, the present literary prototype as exemplified by Gary Cooper, is invariably a fool. He would be small and mean if he were clever. Cleverness, even wisdom, is the property of the villain in all myths. I am not writing to titillate the ear of the twentieth century. Perhaps I am overambitious, but I am trying to make it available, not desirable. I want the remote feeling of the myth, not the intimate feeling of today's man who in his daily thought may change tomorrow but who in his deeper perceptions, I am convinced, does not change at all. In a word I have not been trying to write a popular book but a permanent book. I should have told you all of this.
[I'll get back to why he wrote this explanation in a moment.] Also, from the same letter, there's this bit that discusses the narrative style he selected, and then gets back to the point of the whole project:
...Also, by their nature, these stories must be spare. In the additions I have made, I've tried to keep to that spareness.
I know I seem to be defining my thesis and that's exactly what I am doing. But there are some things I don't understand. [He's referring to their criticisms in earlier letters. --Tim] You say the killing of the babies is an unkingly retelling of the Herod story. But that is the theme of the whole legend. The Herod story is simply another version of the timeless principle that human planning cannot deflect fate. The whole legend is a retelling of human experience. It is a version of "Power corrupts."
Amen, say I.
So those two explanations are part of the annoying/heartbreaking part of this volume. It seems that Steinbeck's agent and his potential publisher were trying to get him to become a historical novelist, which they saw as a way to make him a mega-bestseller. They wanted him to be T.H. White for adults, and weren't in any sympathy with a Malory translation. They threw T. H. White in his face in the letter rejecting his attempts so far, and also "Camelot" which was coming out about then. It seems that they had been pushing him in that direction all along, pretending to be supportive of his original plan, while intending to subvert it.
And they probably had a point, initially. Reading some of the early drafts, they pushed him to be "more Steinbeck" and that seems to have been wisdom. Parts of this really are mostly a "translation" of Malory, and those are the least interesting. So, yes, he benefitted from a push to make the project his own. But they turned down a classic because it wasn't as commercial as they'd have liked, and I have put pissing on their graves high on my bucket list. His research-editor knew better, and is the actual editor of this posthumous edition, but it is suspected that he remained silent at the time because he was in a relationship with one of the others.
In the end, Steinbeck put the project on the back burner, and so it ends with "The Noble Tale of Sir Lancelot of the Lake."
Damn and blast.
February 13, 2025
3.5. In 1956, John Steinbeck sent a letter to Elizabeth Otis, his literary agent from 1931-68), saying, 'I am going to start the Morte immediately. Let it be private between us until I get it done. It has all the old magic.' Steinbeck wrote the 'Morte', what would become The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights between 1958-9 in Somerset, England. He never finished. His final admission about what he had written came in 1965: 'But right now I don't think it is bad. Strange and different, but not bad.'
As it was never finished, it was also never edited. The first few parts of the novel are in the style and tone of Malory. I've read a lot of Malory (and still far from all!) and found my mind occasionally muddled. For one, I had to remind myself I wasn't reading Malory; secondly, I had to remind myself that this was John Steinbeck, the writer of The Grapes of Wrath and East of Eden. It is hard, even now having finished, to associate Steinbeck with the legends of King Arthur. This was his passion project, it seems, despite never completing it. As the novel progresses, Steinbeck gains confidence. The style of Malory lessens and his own style creeps onto the pages (for though less so than the Vulgate and Post-Vulgate Cycles, Malory can be repetitive). There are some lovely passages. 'It was a forest of oak and beech, laced with may and white thorn, tangled and guarded by briars. No opening showed on its dark frontier [...]'. Like with most Arthurian tales, certainly T. H. White, the Lancelot part is the strongest and most interesting. It's hard to rate this novel as itself for the stories are taken from Malory and I know them all too well already (and therefore find reading them, with so little changes, dull at times), but it is a good book.
I think people with an interest in Arthurian literature could start here, as opposed to the daunting books of Malory. Fans of Steinbeck will be surprised. This is maybe my 8th Steinbeck book and it is unlike all the others I've read previously. And of course, it is unfinished (though it does finish with the closing of Lancelot's part) and unedited, so it is rough around the edges. But come here for all the usual damsels, castles, unseating of knights, and magic.
As it was never finished, it was also never edited. The first few parts of the novel are in the style and tone of Malory. I've read a lot of Malory (and still far from all!) and found my mind occasionally muddled. For one, I had to remind myself I wasn't reading Malory; secondly, I had to remind myself that this was John Steinbeck, the writer of The Grapes of Wrath and East of Eden. It is hard, even now having finished, to associate Steinbeck with the legends of King Arthur. This was his passion project, it seems, despite never completing it. As the novel progresses, Steinbeck gains confidence. The style of Malory lessens and his own style creeps onto the pages (for though less so than the Vulgate and Post-Vulgate Cycles, Malory can be repetitive). There are some lovely passages. 'It was a forest of oak and beech, laced with may and white thorn, tangled and guarded by briars. No opening showed on its dark frontier [...]'. Like with most Arthurian tales, certainly T. H. White, the Lancelot part is the strongest and most interesting. It's hard to rate this novel as itself for the stories are taken from Malory and I know them all too well already (and therefore find reading them, with so little changes, dull at times), but it is a good book.
I think people with an interest in Arthurian literature could start here, as opposed to the daunting books of Malory. Fans of Steinbeck will be surprised. This is maybe my 8th Steinbeck book and it is unlike all the others I've read previously. And of course, it is unfinished (though it does finish with the closing of Lancelot's part) and unedited, so it is rough around the edges. But come here for all the usual damsels, castles, unseating of knights, and magic.
December 6, 2023
Steinbeck loved Le Morte d'Arthur from his childhood, and worked on a translation/update for years, unfortunately not finishing it before his death. This was published posthumously, which perhaps explains some oddities in the structure -- what starts as a straightforward retelling at the beginning, veers off in the latter two thirds to a very distinctive, very unusual, and yet fundamentally faithful take on the Matter of Britain. Nothing quite like it.
This was my first re-read in thirty years, perhaps a bit more.
I remembered much of it; the book was an old familiar friend when I was in elementary school. I was, however, surprised to learn that parts of it I had read wrong, especially the ending Some of this was the relative innocence of youth: Steinbeck's is not, say, Howard Pyle's Arthur. Nothing is explicit, but Uther lies with Ygraine and conceives a son; Arthur seduces King Lot's wife, his half-sister Morgawse, resulting in Mordred.
This was my first re-read in thirty years, perhaps a bit more.
I remembered much of it; the book was an old familiar friend when I was in elementary school. I was, however, surprised to learn that parts of it I had read wrong, especially the ending Some of this was the relative innocence of youth: Steinbeck's is not, say, Howard Pyle's Arthur. Nothing is explicit, but Uther lies with Ygraine and conceives a son; Arthur seduces King Lot's wife, his half-sister Morgawse, resulting in Mordred.
June 18, 2013
I have become enchanted by Arthurian mythology as of late because of this silly little British TV show called Merlin. The show is a 'family friendly' retelling of the King Arthur legends, but with teenage/young adult characters. It's quite ridiculous and cheesy most of the time but oddly addicting. So, I decided to do my research and read some of the original legends. I picked up this (thank you, Thalia) first.
This book holds a collection of stories ranging from the life and death of Merlin, the marriage of King Arthur, the tales of silly and lusty knights, the wicked half-sister of King Arthur Morgan Le Fay, the noble tale of Sir Lancelot and so on.
I really enjoyed these entertaining (albeit insane and sometimes insulting to women) stories and it definitely had some very good quotes in it.
The book went on an adventure itself when it tragically and accidentally (it was an accident, I promise) fell out my window. Thankfully, I rescued it valiantly from its tree prison before something worse happened.
I simply wish it wasn't a library copy.
Tis unfortunate that this book remains unfinished, for the ending is abrupt and I want to know what happens next! -eagerly makes popcorn to watch Merlin-
January 2, 2022
An ambitious and wonderful translation work by Steinbeck that highlights his prowess as an intellectual writer and scholar, beyond his already known talent for prose that he is better known for. It's a pity that he didn't manage to finish this one.
The interesting part is that while Steinbeck set out to translate this work by medieval writer Thomas Mallory and adapt it to a more modern English, as the chapters progress it becomes less a translation and more of a Steinbeck adaptation. As the story unfolds, you can find more and more narrative details, thoughts, and feelings of the characters that were not originally there. It takes Mallory's bone structure and enriches it with all the flesh and bone needed to make it more alive. It was a lovely ready.
The interesting part is that while Steinbeck set out to translate this work by medieval writer Thomas Mallory and adapt it to a more modern English, as the chapters progress it becomes less a translation and more of a Steinbeck adaptation. As the story unfolds, you can find more and more narrative details, thoughts, and feelings of the characters that were not originally there. It takes Mallory's bone structure and enriches it with all the flesh and bone needed to make it more alive. It was a lovely ready.
September 28, 2008
Steinbeck brings pretty much nothing fresh -- except his talent at telling stories directly -- to Arthurian legend. And his talent at telling stories directly is actually a problem; half of the pleasure of these legends are in the trappings, the environment, and Steinbeck strips that clean away.
Not to mention that once I stop basking in the fantasy aspects of it, I start wanting to, well, punch people in the face. Which does not make me happy; I love these stories! I do not want to punch them in the face! Except -- in a world where women have no agency (and no dialogue), and men are not extraordinary, I am no longer engaged.
Not to mention that once I stop basking in the fantasy aspects of it, I start wanting to, well, punch people in the face. Which does not make me happy; I love these stories! I do not want to punch them in the face! Except -- in a world where women have no agency (and no dialogue), and men are not extraordinary, I am no longer engaged.
January 23, 2012
Now I’m reading The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights by John Steinbeck, which is sort of a retelling of Thomas Malory’s Morte d’Arthur. Steinbeck is SUCH a Malory fanboy, it’s absolutely adorable. Somehow I’ve never read much at all of Steinbeck–a terrible oversight in my education, clearly, and one I intend to rectify. On the first day of the new year, Sam and I went to one of our favorite used bookstores in Raleigh, and there was an older man in there with a couple of his grand kids. They were checking out a large pile of books, and the grandfather said, “This kid here, he’s in the sixth grade and he’s working his way through all of Steinbeck’s works. Now he’s going through all of Agatha Christie.” The kid looked bashful. I wanted to run straight over and hug him and tell him he was marvelous, but I figured I might get arrested or something. His existence made my whole week, though.
A very long update:
I should never write things in my head. I do it all the time, and then I promptly forget every single word that I’ve composed. I search for the words I had built to convey my idea, and…nothing. Just some crickets chirping somewhere behind my left ear. Drat.
This post will be somewhat a victim of the cricket syndrome, because I composed most of it in my head in a fit of glee whilst reading Steinbeck. I’m beginning to think it was a tragedy of the first order that he was never able to complete it before he died.
At first, the book almost seemed like a straight-up modern translation of Malory, simply replacing archaic words with more accessible ones. Since I like the archaic words, this wasn’t terribly exciting, but it was nice to see old favorite stories dressed up a bit. As I went along, I realized that Steinbeck was drawing out elements that Malory had only touched on, making things cohesive, eliminating contradictions, and bringing out more of the characters. (Steinbeck rightly commented in his notes that those hearing the tales as they were told back then wouldn’t need these things spelled out; tone and body language of the storyteller would have made the subtleties and emotions of the stories quite clear.) He was “keeping, or rather trying to re-create, a rhythm and tone which to the modern ear will have the same effect as Middle English did on the fifteenth-century ear.” As he said, “Present-day people can read unlimited baseball scores in which the narration isn’t very great and fifteenth-century people could listen to innumerable single combats with little variation.”
I realized while reading “Gawain, Ewain, and Marhalt,” however, that Steinbeck had been quite crafty. Very gradually it dawned upon me that Steinbeck was telling his own story out of Malory’s. I didn’t even recall the original quest with these three knights in Malory upon which this story was based; it was just one of countless quests, and honestly even for an Arthurian fan, they all started to blend together in Malory. Not so with Steinbeck. He made this story come ferociously alive. He added a lot; to me the book savors more of Steinbeck than of Malory, but the feeling of Malory is still there, and I think that’s what Steinbeck was after. The book got better and better from there, and when I reached the end of The Noble Tale of Sir Lancelot (which was as far as Steinbeck got in the project), I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to laugh or cry, which is how I know I’ve read a really good book.
The last 60 pages of the book consist of letters to his editors about his progress on the project, and these letters were meant to be cleaned up and put together as an introduction to the finished work. Steinbeck’s letters were just as wonderful to read as his stories because I understood what he had meant to do with his (sadly unfinished) work.
The very first letter is just a couple lines: “I am going to start the Morte immediately. Let it be private between us until I get it done. It has all the old magic.”
A letter from a week later: “I have been dipping into the Malory. And with delight. As long as I don’t know what is going on in the world, I would like to have a try with this. I’m going to try anyway.”
Another letter: “[I’ve been] Just reading and reading and reading and it’s like hearing remembered music.”
And then I knew we were kindred spirits, Steinbeck and I. No one could love the old stories like that and not be a wonderful new friend. And he’s hit on it already, the feeling I get when I’m reading Arthurian myth: it’s just like hearing remembered music. The stories are so timeless that they feel familiar. According to Steinbeck (and he is far from alone in this—Milton, among others, wholeheartedly agreed), “these stories form, with the New Testament, the basis of most modern English literature.”
Steinbeck had such an awe and respect for his source material that he almost couldn’t write the thing. He read literally hundreds of books before he began at all, and once he had begun, he seemed to be regularly terrified (appropriately so) by the scope of the project upon which he had embarked. “I’m aching to get to work after the years of preparation. And I’m scared also, but I think that is healthy…. It is perfectly natural that I should have a freezing humility considering the size of the job to do and the fact that I have to do it all alone.” Comforting to know that Steinbeck, who by this time had written all sorts of great literature, still got scared and felt unequal to the task just like the rest of us who have ever put pen to paper. (Or cursor to Word file.) He said, “I want to forget how to write and learn all over again with the writing growing out of the material,” and “If Malory could rewrite Chretien for his time, I can rewrite Malory for mine.”
The incidental information in Steinbeck’s letters was likewise fascinating:
On memory in the past, when everything was unrecorded: “The training of the Welsh poets was not practice but memorization. On knowing 10,000 poems, one took a position. … Written words have destroyed what must have been a remarkable instrument.” “In Shakespeare’s time a good man could memorize a whole scene from a play and write it down afterwards. That was the only way to steal it.”
On how long it takes light to travel: “It is conceivable that what the great telescopes record presently does not exist at all, that those monstrous issues of the stars may have ceased to be before our world was formed, that the Milky Way is a memory carried in the arms of light.”
In one of his later letters to his editor: “Isn’t it odd that Malory, who knew the route from Amesbury to Glastonbury, didn’t mention Stonehenge although he had to pass it. I think I know why. But will tell you that when I see you.” I would give a great deal to have heard Steinbeck’s theory on this. He owes me a chat.
Steinbeck had a close relationship with his editor and literary agent, and he seemed rather crushed when neither of them were fond of the first few chapters of his rough draft. Their responses were not given, but I was intrigued by portions of his defense, which almost ends up being a critique of modernity:
“I know you have read T.H. White’s The Once and Future King. It is a marvelously wrought book. All the things you wished to find in my revision are superlatively in that. But that is not what I had wanted and I think still do not want to do.”
“Alan Lerner is making a musical about King Arthur and it will be lovely and will make a million-billion dollars—but that isn’t what I want. There’s something else. Maybe in my rush to defend myself I’ve missed what I wanted to say. Maybe I’m trying to say something that can’t be said or do something beyond my ability. But there is something in Malory that is longer-lived than T.H. White and more permanent than Alan Lerner or Mark Twain. I don’t know what it is—but I sense it.”
“The hero is almost bad form unless he is in a Western. Tragedy—true tragedy—is laughable unless it happens in a flat in Brooklyn. Kings, Gods, and Heroes—maybe their day is over, but I can’t believe it. Maybe because I don’t want to believe it. In this country I am surrounded by the works of heroes right back to man’s first entrance. I don’t know how the monoliths were set up in the circles without tools but there was something more involved than petty thievery and schoolboy laziness and the anguish of overfed ladies on the psycho couch. Someone moved a whole lot of earth around for something beyond ‘making a buck.’ And if all of this is gone, I’ve missed the boat somewhere. And that could easily be.” “Nuts! I believe in this thing. There’s an unthinkable loneliness in it. There must be.”
Steinbeck was grasping at trying to express something very nearly impossible to put into words, trying to make Malory accessible to the modern age without making it OF the modern age in the way that White’s book did. I love The Once and Future King, but Steinbeck was right; it doesn’t have the flavor of Malory. Once and Future accomplished its goal, and mimicking its style would only be trying to piggyback on its success, not say something worthwhile.
Steinbeck’s thoughts on modern writing and its inspiration were particularly astute: “What is in a writer’s mind—novelist or critic? Doesn’t a writer set down what has impressed him most, usually at a very early age? If heroism impressed him, that’s what he writes about, and if frustration and a sense of degradation—that is it. And if jealousy is the deepest feeling, then he must attack anything which seems to be the longed-for success.”
“Malory lived in as rough and ruthless and corrupt an age as the world has ever produced. In the Morte he in no way minimizes these things, the cruelty and the lust, and murder and childlike self-interest. They are all here. But he does not let them put out the sun. Side by side with them are generosity and courage and greatness and the huge sadness of tragedy rather than the little meanness of frustration.”
“For no matter how brilliantly one part of life is painted, if the sun goes out, that man has not seen the whole world. Day and night both exist. To ignore the one or the other is to split time in two and to choose one…”
“There is nothing in literature nastier than Arthur’s murder of children because one of them may grow up to kill him. Williams and many others of his day would stop there, saying, “That’s the way it is.” And they would never get to the heartbreaking glory when Arthur meets his fate and fights against it and accepts it all in one. How can we have forgotten so much?”
“Something happens now to children. An artist should be open on all sides to every kind of light and darkness. But our age almost purposely closes all windows, draws all shades, and then later screams to a psychiatrist for light.”
It’s hard to imagine Steinbeck laying this work aside for so many years; for all of his struggles in getting it written, he so clearly believes in it and is utterly immersed in it. He said, “I think it is the best prose I have ever written. I hope this is so and I believe it.” If this is true, his very best prose wasn’t even published until after his death. His wife said, “He is beginning to live and breathe the book. In the evening he carves wooden spoons for our kitchen and talks about Arthur and Merlin.”
His wife quoted him: “I tell these old stories, but they are not what I want to tell. I only know how I want people to feel when I tell them.” She said one of his colleagues thought it was the best statement about writing in all of the books about books, and she agreed. Steinbeck talked about the “heartbreaking glory” of Arthur, and I think he’s finally put his finger on what has always drawn me to Arthurian literature. You know it when you feel it. “When I finish this job, if I ever do, I should like to make some observations about the Legend. Somewhere there’s a piece missing in the jigsaw and it is a piece which ties the whole thing together. So many scholars have spent so much time trying to establish whether Arthur existed at all that they have lost track of the single truth that he exists over and over.” I wonder if that feeling is the missing piece of the puzzle, the universal truth in the legend that we keep coming back to over and over in countless forms, trying to recapture the heartbreaking glory.
One last quote from his letters: “Yesterday something wonderful. It was a golden day and the apple blossoms are out and for the first time I climbed up to Cadbury—Camelot.”
A very long update:
I should never write things in my head. I do it all the time, and then I promptly forget every single word that I’ve composed. I search for the words I had built to convey my idea, and…nothing. Just some crickets chirping somewhere behind my left ear. Drat.
This post will be somewhat a victim of the cricket syndrome, because I composed most of it in my head in a fit of glee whilst reading Steinbeck. I’m beginning to think it was a tragedy of the first order that he was never able to complete it before he died.
At first, the book almost seemed like a straight-up modern translation of Malory, simply replacing archaic words with more accessible ones. Since I like the archaic words, this wasn’t terribly exciting, but it was nice to see old favorite stories dressed up a bit. As I went along, I realized that Steinbeck was drawing out elements that Malory had only touched on, making things cohesive, eliminating contradictions, and bringing out more of the characters. (Steinbeck rightly commented in his notes that those hearing the tales as they were told back then wouldn’t need these things spelled out; tone and body language of the storyteller would have made the subtleties and emotions of the stories quite clear.) He was “keeping, or rather trying to re-create, a rhythm and tone which to the modern ear will have the same effect as Middle English did on the fifteenth-century ear.” As he said, “Present-day people can read unlimited baseball scores in which the narration isn’t very great and fifteenth-century people could listen to innumerable single combats with little variation.”
I realized while reading “Gawain, Ewain, and Marhalt,” however, that Steinbeck had been quite crafty. Very gradually it dawned upon me that Steinbeck was telling his own story out of Malory’s. I didn’t even recall the original quest with these three knights in Malory upon which this story was based; it was just one of countless quests, and honestly even for an Arthurian fan, they all started to blend together in Malory. Not so with Steinbeck. He made this story come ferociously alive. He added a lot; to me the book savors more of Steinbeck than of Malory, but the feeling of Malory is still there, and I think that’s what Steinbeck was after. The book got better and better from there, and when I reached the end of The Noble Tale of Sir Lancelot (which was as far as Steinbeck got in the project), I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to laugh or cry, which is how I know I’ve read a really good book.
The last 60 pages of the book consist of letters to his editors about his progress on the project, and these letters were meant to be cleaned up and put together as an introduction to the finished work. Steinbeck’s letters were just as wonderful to read as his stories because I understood what he had meant to do with his (sadly unfinished) work.
The very first letter is just a couple lines: “I am going to start the Morte immediately. Let it be private between us until I get it done. It has all the old magic.”
A letter from a week later: “I have been dipping into the Malory. And with delight. As long as I don’t know what is going on in the world, I would like to have a try with this. I’m going to try anyway.”
Another letter: “[I’ve been] Just reading and reading and reading and it’s like hearing remembered music.”
And then I knew we were kindred spirits, Steinbeck and I. No one could love the old stories like that and not be a wonderful new friend. And he’s hit on it already, the feeling I get when I’m reading Arthurian myth: it’s just like hearing remembered music. The stories are so timeless that they feel familiar. According to Steinbeck (and he is far from alone in this—Milton, among others, wholeheartedly agreed), “these stories form, with the New Testament, the basis of most modern English literature.”
Steinbeck had such an awe and respect for his source material that he almost couldn’t write the thing. He read literally hundreds of books before he began at all, and once he had begun, he seemed to be regularly terrified (appropriately so) by the scope of the project upon which he had embarked. “I’m aching to get to work after the years of preparation. And I’m scared also, but I think that is healthy…. It is perfectly natural that I should have a freezing humility considering the size of the job to do and the fact that I have to do it all alone.” Comforting to know that Steinbeck, who by this time had written all sorts of great literature, still got scared and felt unequal to the task just like the rest of us who have ever put pen to paper. (Or cursor to Word file.) He said, “I want to forget how to write and learn all over again with the writing growing out of the material,” and “If Malory could rewrite Chretien for his time, I can rewrite Malory for mine.”
The incidental information in Steinbeck’s letters was likewise fascinating:
On memory in the past, when everything was unrecorded: “The training of the Welsh poets was not practice but memorization. On knowing 10,000 poems, one took a position. … Written words have destroyed what must have been a remarkable instrument.” “In Shakespeare’s time a good man could memorize a whole scene from a play and write it down afterwards. That was the only way to steal it.”
On how long it takes light to travel: “It is conceivable that what the great telescopes record presently does not exist at all, that those monstrous issues of the stars may have ceased to be before our world was formed, that the Milky Way is a memory carried in the arms of light.”
In one of his later letters to his editor: “Isn’t it odd that Malory, who knew the route from Amesbury to Glastonbury, didn’t mention Stonehenge although he had to pass it. I think I know why. But will tell you that when I see you.” I would give a great deal to have heard Steinbeck’s theory on this. He owes me a chat.
Steinbeck had a close relationship with his editor and literary agent, and he seemed rather crushed when neither of them were fond of the first few chapters of his rough draft. Their responses were not given, but I was intrigued by portions of his defense, which almost ends up being a critique of modernity:
“I know you have read T.H. White’s The Once and Future King. It is a marvelously wrought book. All the things you wished to find in my revision are superlatively in that. But that is not what I had wanted and I think still do not want to do.”
“Alan Lerner is making a musical about King Arthur and it will be lovely and will make a million-billion dollars—but that isn’t what I want. There’s something else. Maybe in my rush to defend myself I’ve missed what I wanted to say. Maybe I’m trying to say something that can’t be said or do something beyond my ability. But there is something in Malory that is longer-lived than T.H. White and more permanent than Alan Lerner or Mark Twain. I don’t know what it is—but I sense it.”
“The hero is almost bad form unless he is in a Western. Tragedy—true tragedy—is laughable unless it happens in a flat in Brooklyn. Kings, Gods, and Heroes—maybe their day is over, but I can’t believe it. Maybe because I don’t want to believe it. In this country I am surrounded by the works of heroes right back to man’s first entrance. I don’t know how the monoliths were set up in the circles without tools but there was something more involved than petty thievery and schoolboy laziness and the anguish of overfed ladies on the psycho couch. Someone moved a whole lot of earth around for something beyond ‘making a buck.’ And if all of this is gone, I’ve missed the boat somewhere. And that could easily be.” “Nuts! I believe in this thing. There’s an unthinkable loneliness in it. There must be.”
Steinbeck was grasping at trying to express something very nearly impossible to put into words, trying to make Malory accessible to the modern age without making it OF the modern age in the way that White’s book did. I love The Once and Future King, but Steinbeck was right; it doesn’t have the flavor of Malory. Once and Future accomplished its goal, and mimicking its style would only be trying to piggyback on its success, not say something worthwhile.
Steinbeck’s thoughts on modern writing and its inspiration were particularly astute: “What is in a writer’s mind—novelist or critic? Doesn’t a writer set down what has impressed him most, usually at a very early age? If heroism impressed him, that’s what he writes about, and if frustration and a sense of degradation—that is it. And if jealousy is the deepest feeling, then he must attack anything which seems to be the longed-for success.”
“Malory lived in as rough and ruthless and corrupt an age as the world has ever produced. In the Morte he in no way minimizes these things, the cruelty and the lust, and murder and childlike self-interest. They are all here. But he does not let them put out the sun. Side by side with them are generosity and courage and greatness and the huge sadness of tragedy rather than the little meanness of frustration.”
“For no matter how brilliantly one part of life is painted, if the sun goes out, that man has not seen the whole world. Day and night both exist. To ignore the one or the other is to split time in two and to choose one…”
“There is nothing in literature nastier than Arthur’s murder of children because one of them may grow up to kill him. Williams and many others of his day would stop there, saying, “That’s the way it is.” And they would never get to the heartbreaking glory when Arthur meets his fate and fights against it and accepts it all in one. How can we have forgotten so much?”
“Something happens now to children. An artist should be open on all sides to every kind of light and darkness. But our age almost purposely closes all windows, draws all shades, and then later screams to a psychiatrist for light.”
It’s hard to imagine Steinbeck laying this work aside for so many years; for all of his struggles in getting it written, he so clearly believes in it and is utterly immersed in it. He said, “I think it is the best prose I have ever written. I hope this is so and I believe it.” If this is true, his very best prose wasn’t even published until after his death. His wife said, “He is beginning to live and breathe the book. In the evening he carves wooden spoons for our kitchen and talks about Arthur and Merlin.”
His wife quoted him: “I tell these old stories, but they are not what I want to tell. I only know how I want people to feel when I tell them.” She said one of his colleagues thought it was the best statement about writing in all of the books about books, and she agreed. Steinbeck talked about the “heartbreaking glory” of Arthur, and I think he’s finally put his finger on what has always drawn me to Arthurian literature. You know it when you feel it. “When I finish this job, if I ever do, I should like to make some observations about the Legend. Somewhere there’s a piece missing in the jigsaw and it is a piece which ties the whole thing together. So many scholars have spent so much time trying to establish whether Arthur existed at all that they have lost track of the single truth that he exists over and over.” I wonder if that feeling is the missing piece of the puzzle, the universal truth in the legend that we keep coming back to over and over in countless forms, trying to recapture the heartbreaking glory.
One last quote from his letters: “Yesterday something wonderful. It was a golden day and the apple blossoms are out and for the first time I climbed up to Cadbury—Camelot.”
January 19, 2025
Honestly, very interesting. I was surprised that this existed, as the Arthur legends seem so different from what Steinbeck has done—but I was touched by his description of his aesthetic joy in the Morte in his boyhood, and his excitement about the process of making it accessible to moderns (especially, modern children) as he planned—in the beginning of his process he described it as a joy to write, maybe his best writing yet, the most satisfying thing he had ever worked on. I found him to be a scholar of Malory and his tradition and to be driven by a deep appreciation. I never expected to agree with Steinbeck about something—but I agree that a lot was lost in The Once and Future King as a retelling, and Steinbeck’s beginning was much closer to an earnest Arthur retelling. A little sad he never made it to his planned revisions or second volume.
“So many scholars have spent so much time trying to establish whether Arthur existed at all that they have lost track of the single truth that he exists over and over.”
“So many scholars have spent so much time trying to establish whether Arthur existed at all that they have lost track of the single truth that he exists over and over.”
September 19, 2017
3.75
I enjoyed this book so much when I was about eleven years old but upon rereading it, the same feeling just wasn't there. The only chapter that I can truly say that I enjoyed was the last segment about Lancelot. I found that the other parts just didn't really do it for me. If you don't like long chapters, you may want to shy away from reading this book because the chapters are more like segments than anything else and can be anywhere from 8-100 pages. I wish that I could say that I enjoyed this more than I did. I will, however, hold onto the fond memories I had of this book as an eleven year old.
I enjoyed this book so much when I was about eleven years old but upon rereading it, the same feeling just wasn't there. The only chapter that I can truly say that I enjoyed was the last segment about Lancelot. I found that the other parts just didn't really do it for me. If you don't like long chapters, you may want to shy away from reading this book because the chapters are more like segments than anything else and can be anywhere from 8-100 pages. I wish that I could say that I enjoyed this more than I did. I will, however, hold onto the fond memories I had of this book as an eleven year old.
October 28, 2020
This precious book is the re-telling of Arthurian legends by no less than John Steinbeck. Gave it a four star rating because it is incomplete! It is 7 chapters long, starting with Uther's lust for Igraine, and ending with Guinevere's and Lancelot's first kiss : the beginning of the end.
The earlier chapters were almost biblical in the narrating of events, with very little dialogue. It was almost boring, what with the endless lists of Sir So-and-so jousting with Knight-Errant-This-and-That. But whatever the faults of the earlier chapters, the last two chapters more than made up for them!
The last and best chapters ("Gawain, Ewain, and Marhalt" and "The Noble Tale of Sir Lancelot of the Lake)" seemed almost as if a new writer had taken hold of the Cross ballpoint pen Steinbeck used... glittering with gems of dialogue, written in Steinbeck's "American." I was amazed and thrilled with the thoughts and speech of several ladies, including Guinevere. Steinbeck's damsels poked fun at the knights, gave them tongue lashings, and spoke their minds in the most delightful way!
And of course, here and there, Steinbeck would insert passages of remarkable insight, such as :
"Granite so hard that it will smash a hammer can be worn away by little grains of moving sand. And a heart that will not break under the great blows of fate can be eroded by the nibbling of numbers, the creeping of days, the numbing treachery of littleness, of important littleness."
"There is the little evil which is disappointed meanness of small men who dress their poverty and nakedness in cynicism."
"Perhaps it is so with everyone, that he looks for weakness in the strong to find promise of strength in his weakness."
"Peace, not war, is the destroyer of men; tranquility rather than danger is the mother of cowardice, and not need but plenty brings apprehension and unease."
I could go on and on, I filled up pages and pages in my journal with these golden passages.
The Appendix can be considered a chapter unto itself, with letters that Steinbeck wrote to his literary agent and friend, and it was particularly enjoyable to read on the author's preparations and efforts from 1956 until 1965, which included at least two trips to Britain and one trip to Italy for research. He wrote 5 days a week, demanded for Cross pens to be mailed to him, got mad at Customs for delaying the release of said pens, took in the sights, ordered and read hundreds of books, and made full use of the Oxford dictionary.
Such a tragedy that Steinbeck never finished it!! But even as it is, it is wonderful.
He wrote: "In turning over the lumber of the past I'm looking for the future. This is no nostalgia for the finished and safe. My looking is not for a dead Arthur but for one sleeping. And if sleeping, he is sleeping everywhere, not alone in a cave in Cornwall."
On Malory, Steinbeck said "Out of this devilish welter of change -- so like today -- he tried to create a world of order, a world of virtue..."
There is a reason why Arthur is taught to high school students everywhere, even in the Philippines. Because in a world of cynicism and evil, there remain "fools" such as knights, who chose virtue over vice, and gosh darn the consequences. These were men who tried to live as men, knowing they could never be perfectly good nor free of sin, but tried their darndest anyway.
There IS a better world, and Arthur and his knights remind us to continuously strive to create this one, in speech and deed.
The earlier chapters were almost biblical in the narrating of events, with very little dialogue. It was almost boring, what with the endless lists of Sir So-and-so jousting with Knight-Errant-This-and-That. But whatever the faults of the earlier chapters, the last two chapters more than made up for them!
The last and best chapters ("Gawain, Ewain, and Marhalt" and "The Noble Tale of Sir Lancelot of the Lake)" seemed almost as if a new writer had taken hold of the Cross ballpoint pen Steinbeck used... glittering with gems of dialogue, written in Steinbeck's "American." I was amazed and thrilled with the thoughts and speech of several ladies, including Guinevere. Steinbeck's damsels poked fun at the knights, gave them tongue lashings, and spoke their minds in the most delightful way!
And of course, here and there, Steinbeck would insert passages of remarkable insight, such as :
"Granite so hard that it will smash a hammer can be worn away by little grains of moving sand. And a heart that will not break under the great blows of fate can be eroded by the nibbling of numbers, the creeping of days, the numbing treachery of littleness, of important littleness."
"There is the little evil which is disappointed meanness of small men who dress their poverty and nakedness in cynicism."
"Perhaps it is so with everyone, that he looks for weakness in the strong to find promise of strength in his weakness."
"Peace, not war, is the destroyer of men; tranquility rather than danger is the mother of cowardice, and not need but plenty brings apprehension and unease."
I could go on and on, I filled up pages and pages in my journal with these golden passages.
The Appendix can be considered a chapter unto itself, with letters that Steinbeck wrote to his literary agent and friend, and it was particularly enjoyable to read on the author's preparations and efforts from 1956 until 1965, which included at least two trips to Britain and one trip to Italy for research. He wrote 5 days a week, demanded for Cross pens to be mailed to him, got mad at Customs for delaying the release of said pens, took in the sights, ordered and read hundreds of books, and made full use of the Oxford dictionary.
Such a tragedy that Steinbeck never finished it!! But even as it is, it is wonderful.
He wrote: "In turning over the lumber of the past I'm looking for the future. This is no nostalgia for the finished and safe. My looking is not for a dead Arthur but for one sleeping. And if sleeping, he is sleeping everywhere, not alone in a cave in Cornwall."
On Malory, Steinbeck said "Out of this devilish welter of change -- so like today -- he tried to create a world of order, a world of virtue..."
There is a reason why Arthur is taught to high school students everywhere, even in the Philippines. Because in a world of cynicism and evil, there remain "fools" such as knights, who chose virtue over vice, and gosh darn the consequences. These were men who tried to live as men, knowing they could never be perfectly good nor free of sin, but tried their darndest anyway.
There IS a better world, and Arthur and his knights remind us to continuously strive to create this one, in speech and deed.
September 17, 2012
This book was my introduction to Arthurian literature, sometime in elementary school, perhaps fourth or fifth grade. I had no idea who Steinbeck was.
I saw it at a yard sale and picked it up to read again. Some of it is tedious -- the same parts that are tedious in Malory, particularly battle scenes. Some of it is amazing.
I love this quotation: "Arthur looked upward and he said, 'It’s a black day, a troubled day.'
[Merlin replied,] 'It is a day, simply a day. You have a black and troubled mind, my lord.'"
I love the psychological characterizations, especially of Lancelot -- especially love the story of his young relative picking on him at the beginning of their quest and then humbly admiring him after seeing his response to the goading. And I actually love that the unfinished book ends with Lancelot fleeing in bitter tears from his first intimate encounter with the queen. The telling of how intensely her first casual touch affected him, and how she noticed, is exquisite.
I don't like Merlin in this book all that much. All he ever seems to do is tell people horrible consequences that are going to happen because of seemingly innocent decisions they've made -- and he childishly delights in tricks and surprises.
I'd like to re-read Malory and this book chapter by chapter and see more particularly how Steinbeck has redacted, edited, added to, cut short, etc, Malory's work.
I saw it at a yard sale and picked it up to read again. Some of it is tedious -- the same parts that are tedious in Malory, particularly battle scenes. Some of it is amazing.
I love this quotation: "Arthur looked upward and he said, 'It’s a black day, a troubled day.'
[Merlin replied,] 'It is a day, simply a day. You have a black and troubled mind, my lord.'"
I love the psychological characterizations, especially of Lancelot -- especially love the story of his young relative picking on him at the beginning of their quest and then humbly admiring him after seeing his response to the goading. And I actually love that the unfinished book ends with Lancelot fleeing in bitter tears from his first intimate encounter with the queen. The telling of how intensely her first casual touch affected him, and how she noticed, is exquisite.
I don't like Merlin in this book all that much. All he ever seems to do is tell people horrible consequences that are going to happen because of seemingly innocent decisions they've made -- and he childishly delights in tricks and surprises.
I'd like to re-read Malory and this book chapter by chapter and see more particularly how Steinbeck has redacted, edited, added to, cut short, etc, Malory's work.
December 12, 2020
CW: rape, violence against women
Actual rating: 3.5 stars
Chivalry towards men is code. Chivalry towards women is performative.
That's what I learned from reading these stories.
Which isn't to say I was surprised. I'm not mad, just disappointed.
It was extremely interesting to read these adaptations from the Mallory, but it wasn't until the last two tales that I really felt Steinbeck had added much. The writing at the start was fine, but it didn't feel humanizing or that it was changing much of the story, the way the introduction tried to convince me it did. I feel like you can tell it's something of a first draft in those early stories.
Rape is treated very casually. If the woman is unmarried, it's not even punished. On page 88, we are told Pellinore raped a woman and father a future knight and then stole her dog as a "memento." On page 89, he is rewarded with a special seat at the round table. That's the kind of attitude we're dealing with here.
Women are valued when they have traits men view as positive, but disdained when they "chatter" or are too interested in the feminine, and shunned and hated when they are too masculine.
There were times when Steinbeck's thoughts on this shone through, especially in the Ewain segment of "Gwain, Ewain, and Harhalt," so I really think if he had finished the stories, there would have been a slightly more even showing here. Unfortunately, he didn't, so we're left with... what we have.
Actual rating: 3.5 stars
Chivalry towards men is code. Chivalry towards women is performative.
That's what I learned from reading these stories.
Which isn't to say I was surprised. I'm not mad, just disappointed.
It was extremely interesting to read these adaptations from the Mallory, but it wasn't until the last two tales that I really felt Steinbeck had added much. The writing at the start was fine, but it didn't feel humanizing or that it was changing much of the story, the way the introduction tried to convince me it did. I feel like you can tell it's something of a first draft in those early stories.
Rape is treated very casually. If the woman is unmarried, it's not even punished. On page 88, we are told Pellinore raped a woman and father a future knight and then stole her dog as a "memento." On page 89, he is rewarded with a special seat at the round table. That's the kind of attitude we're dealing with here.
Women are valued when they have traits men view as positive, but disdained when they "chatter" or are too interested in the feminine, and shunned and hated when they are too masculine.
There were times when Steinbeck's thoughts on this shone through, especially in the Ewain segment of "Gwain, Ewain, and Harhalt," so I really think if he had finished the stories, there would have been a slightly more even showing here. Unfortunately, he didn't, so we're left with... what we have.
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