Friday, May 18, 2012

Thoughts from "Grendel"


I have started a new book, Grendel by John Gardner. I am trying to comprehend what it says, for it is philosophical, and the best way to do that is reiterative. I shall document my thoughts, stream-of-consciousness style, as I go along.

This is not a book you pick, read for bore, then replace with the next. This one thinks for itself. Grendel thinks. Your Grendel thinks, turns what you read over in his head to see if it aligns with your reality. The Grendel of the book howls and screams with the eternal pain and frustration. He sees man's insanity, hates it, repulsed; he sees man's art, tries to touch it, and is repulsed by man at first sight. He is a philosophical being with no one else to talk to––his own mother is a beast, dumb and grunting––and he is stuck with only nature's rasping voice as company. He yowls into the cold night only to hear the grating of his own roar echo back. He covets man's abilities for art and bemoans his own hairiness. He sees man's insanity, knows he is better and more sensible (though, possibly because he doesn't have another Grendel to rasp against) than man, but is still lulled into art's spell, and he craves it past reason.

Then Grendel meets The Dragon. The dragon is the old mentor of the book, cranky from his long-held wisdom. He stretches Grendel's mind, yanks it into places and ideas Grendel doesn't believe or want to believe. Who shall we trust? The searching soul, thoughtful from the edge of rejection, or the world-weary Serpent, cold and cynical and whose only warmth is in his acid breath? Still, the dragon's words must be considered. This may be a slow read for me. Not as slow as my other read, Lord of the Flies (I'm creeping in that one, soaking in it).

Words of thought:

"The essence of life is to be found in the frustrations of established order. The universe refuses the deadening influence of complete conformity. And yet in its refusal, it passes toward novel order as a primary requisite for important experience (Gardner, 67)."

"Importance is primarily monistic in its reference to the universe (68)."

*****

[There are so many moments when I sit, read a line, look up and blink, and try to waggle* out what I've read. It could be the fluorescents above. Or fatigue. Or that this book is profound. Profundity hates fluorescents.]

*****

Grendel's dragon is beautiful, of course, with his belly of flame and coat of glowing scales. He is hard. His coarseness of thought is deserved and accepted in our minds vicariously through Grendel's––because we know the dragon is right, in the end. He also has sly references to Beowulf, which I appreciate (considering this whole book is one giant reference to Beowulf, this is a small bit of wry comedy). He is right (or is he, really?) because he sees his own end, and thus can define truth for Grendel (or can he?).

While (so far) a minor character, and the dragon has had only one scene, he is real. He is all the proverbs of all the nations; he exists, the outside, empirical, ancient, always source, keenly aware of it but too bored to be too much of an arrogant humbug about it. He knows. We listen. Except we don't––rather, Grendel doesn't. He gives up at the first mention of molecules, which are beyond him. The searcher hits his roadblock and blames the universe for the fault. No wonder the dragon starts out huffy.

Grendel, the searcher and outcast, still holds like fire to a stick to what he knows. His young mindset was simple, and thus his base of thought. He was simple, yet complex, in the way that a child is complex and all-connected in his simplicity. "At times I would try to befriend the [current exiled Dane], at other times I would try to ignore him, but they were treacherous. In the end, I had to eat them (33)."

Dragons are dragons, in the end, too. John Gardner aptly reminds us by what the dragon tells Grendel. "He shook his head. 'My advice to you, my violent friend, is to seek out gold and sit on it (74)."






*neologism


No comments:

Post a Comment