CFP: Digital Media and Peer Review in Medieval Studies

I usually resist Calls for Papers, since those are really only of interest to scholars, but this one seemed right up the alley of many of the Wordhoarders, so I'll break my embargo this time. If you don't know what a "Call for Papers" is, don't worry about it -- it's a scholarly thing.


Call for Papers for the 43rd International Congress on Medieval Studies, May 8-11, 2008, Kalamazoo, Michigan

The Medieval Academy of America Committee on Electronic Resources invites submissions to the following sponsored session:

"Digital Media and Peer Review in Medieval Studies"

Medievalists are increasingly turning to digital media both to produce new types of scholarship such as encoded texts and non-bookish digital projects (e.g. archives and interactive electronic resources) and to advance andincrease the efficiency of traditional forms of scholarship such as critical editions. There is not yet widespread agreement, however, regarding how this new work should count for academic promotion, and many scholars working in these new media find that there are few established avenues for getting their work peer reviewed. At the same time, we are witnessing rapid and widespread changes in how we use print texts (e.g. often in scanned, searchable copies), and many traditional publishers of print journals and monographs are under enormous financial pressures from declining sales and print runs, thereby further limiting access to peer review and opportunities for publication. How can we, as a community, bring scholarship, publishing, and the need for peer review into balance?

Please email abstracts (not to exceed 300 words) to Timothy Stinson (stinson@jhu.edu). Please include name, professional/university affiliation,and contact information.

Lots of Neat Stuff

While I'm getting swatted around by the demands of the new semester, and too wiped out to write anything of interest for myself, let me offer up some of the things I've been reading with interest:

• Kate Laity points us to this article about Benjamin Bagby's Beowulf performances.
• Speaking of performances, Jennifer Lynn Jordan offers us an account of her sock puppet performance of some medieval narratives (I couldn't get the videos to play, unfortunately).
• Steven Till recommends Ken Follett's The Pillars of the Earth.
• Highly Eccentric has a couple of posts on the medieval universe.
• Karl Steel has a post on the medieval relationships between humans and animals.
• Heavenfield has an account of King Oswine and analysis of why Bede includes his story in the Ecclesiastical History.
• LLCoolCarl discovers that Karl Rove is Beowulf, or Grendel, or someone else entirely. I'd vote for Aeschere, myself, which would make the Daily Kos Grendel's mother, I suppose.
• Cinerati muses on the new edition of Dungeons and Dragons. I haven't played in probably two decades, but it still warms my heart to read such things.

If all that reading doesn't sate your medieval appetite, I would recommend reading the Menagier of Paris's treatise to his wife. I've always wanted to read it, but just haven't had the time. I'll read it vicariously through you.

Beowulf, Interrupted

This weekend I was supposed to offer the final (huzzah!) installment of the comic Beowulf: Dragon Slayer. Saturday I wanted to post about the castle my kiddies made, so I put it off until Sunday. Today, though, I had a sudden burst of inspiration for the new book I'm working on, so I spent the time writing non-comic-book-related prose.

Sorry, folks, big scholarly book trumps comic book reviews. I'll probably post the final review later this week.

Eat Your Heart Out, Hrothgar!

What do you get for the medievalist who's got everything? Well, in the case of my children, they decided to make me a birthday castle. First, here are the cardboard-masons who constructed the edifice. Apparently, from the Korean flag atop the structure, this was a European/Korean fusion style castle.

... followed by a close-up of the front gate. Note the alligator in the moat. The finger belongs to the young female cardboard-mason.



And finally, a look at the interior of the castle. I am informed by my in-house medieval archeologists that the red objects are medieval chairs, and the other is a medieval table with a green tablecloth with (from top to bottom) a sword, a pitchfork, and a torch. The white tubes are the interior view of the four turrets of the castle.

So, woe to the troll, dragon, or Viking who tries to assault the lands of Nokes. We are defended by an impregnable castle. We can sit out a long siege in comfortable red chairs while our 'gators eat you alive.

Welcome, Per Omnia Saecula!

I just discovered a brand-spankin'-new medieval blog, Per Omnia Saecula, written by one Jennifer Lynn Jordan. It's just a week old, so let's all hop on over and see what posts she has. So far, there are three:

• A Dante quote
• A self-introduction
• And a post on that most delightful medieval beast, the bonnacon.

Anyway, welcome to our community, JLJ. Just avoid the herds of bonnacon with their weapons-grade dung.

Good Things to Read, Written by Smart People

If you're looking for some good things to read on medieval topics, here are some suggestions for you:

• Jonathan Jarrett has a post about violence, the placement of medieval coins, and one of his academic heroes.
• Over at In the Middle, Heather Blurton responds to the various praise / criticisms of her book on cannibalism. My own comments, along with puns, can be found here.
• Jeff Sypeck has a post on Charlemagne and the European identity, responding, in part, to this post by Horace Jeffery Hodges over at Gypsy Scholar.

I would have commentary on these various pieces, but classes started yesterday, so my synaptic pathways are all leading toward the fall semester. I'll try to be less dumb next week.

Rome Pays Tribute to Arthur

Tomorrow is the release date of a new Arthurian film, The Last Legion. The idea here seems to be that King Arthur was Romulus Augustus, who as I recall was the last Roman emperor to rule from Rome itself.

Wouldn't Geoffrey of Monmouth be surprised to see what had become of his king? Of course, when the Romans demand tribute from the Britons in Geoffrey's History of the Kings of Britain, Arthur responds that the Romans ought to be the ones giving him tribute. Maybe this is the tribute he's been waiting for. Just in case this turns out to be the case, let's keep a lookout for incoming vessels from Avalon.

Riddle Contest

SCA Life has an Anglo-Saxon riddle for you to solve as part of a contest. Old English professors* like me will immediately recognize it. The winner gets to choose which of Catslyn's** filks*** she uses in some wordplay or another. I'm going to recuse myself, and would encourage anyone else out there who earns a living as a professional medievalist to do the same. Let's give others a chance, eh?

Please, no one spoil the fun for the rest of us. If anyone posts the answer here in the comments section, I'll delete it.

*Er, by that I mean "professor of Old English," not "elderly English professor."
**In the original post, I misidentified the blogger as "Anachronista." A foolish mistake, because Anachronista's blog is called, well, "Anachronista."
*** By the way, I hate filking. A lot.

The Taproot

I can't believe I've never come across this quote before; I must have and simply forgot it.

"The taproot, Anglo-Saxon, can never be abandoned. The man who does not know it remains all his life a child among real English student. There we find the speech-rhythms that we use every day made the basis of metre; there we find the origins of that romanticism for which the ignorant invent such odd explanations. This is our own stuff and its life is in every branch of the tree to the remotest twigs. That we cannot abandon." -- C.S. Lewis*

*qtd. in Tripp, Raymond P., "Power as a Measure of Humanism in Beowulf and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight," Arthurian and Other Studies presented to Shunichi Noguchi. Ed. Takashi Suzuki and Tsuyoshi Mukai. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer: 1.

What about Louis the Fat?

Moyen Age is on a medieval diet ... sort of. It's more along the lines of a medieval-inspired diet. After all, it's improbable that Abelard and Heloise sat down to meals including buffalo bratwurtz, yams, and acorn squash. Still, it's pretty cool.

If medieval food is so healthy, then how do you end up with folks like Louis VI, a.k.a "Loius the Fat?"* I'm thinking of going on my own medieval diet, for those who are with me. For three months, I'll eat only:

Breakfast: Porridge (lots and lots of porridge)
Lunch: Salt pork and bacon. Bread with butter slathered on. A big hunk of cheese.
Dinner: Roast venison. Lots and lots of mead. Maybe I'll just skip the venison and get on with the mead.

Seriously, though, here some recipes for medieval dishes I found online. I can't vouch for either their authenticity or tastiness, but these seem easy enough to prepare.

*If he'd been from Sicily instead of France, we'd call him "Fat Louie" and he'd make guest appearances on The Sopranos.

No longer on the margins, MKH is now In the Middle

Announcement: Mary Kate Hurley of Old English in New York will now be joining J.J. Cohen, Eileen Joy, and Karl Steel at In the Middle. She will continue to maintain OEiNY, though, so no need to update your blogrolls.

That is all. Move along.

Sunday Links

• Carolingian has a post about her experience at the ISAS conference here (I'm jealous as I couldn't go, and now won't get another chance for two more years).
• News for Medievalists has had another big update, with about a dozen new stories, including this discussion of modern medievalism.
• Mary Kate Hurley takes offense at the implication by Christopher Hitchens that "anyone who wants to teach Anglo-Saxon must be slightly nuts and hopelessly lost in the fantasy that Beowulf has something to do with popular culture." Happy birthday, MKH!

Cannibals and Beowulf; Or, Eatin' with the Eoten

Karl Steel over at In the Middle tagged me on a question a few days ago, and I've yet to answer. I haven't been ignoring the tag in the post; it just happened to fall on the first day back for faculty. I wanted to look at the Old English Beowulf again before commenting, but I haven't had a chance. I didn't want too much time to elapse before responding, so this is coming off the top of my head a bit, without having reviewed the OE Beowulf and without having read Blurton's work at all.

In any case, for those of you who aren't Old English specialists, the argument has to do with the word "eoten," generally translated as something like "giant" or "monster." Blurton (or at least my reading of Karl's summary of Blurton) is suggesting that "cannibal" would be a better translation.

As Karl points out, the Beowulf manuscript (Cotton Vitellius A.xv) is full of all sorts of monstrousness. Beowulf has some really odd narrative lacunae in the story (most notably 50-odd years). When I try to reconcile these facts with Kevin Kiernan's research on the Beowulf MS, I come up with this speculative conclusion: The Beowulf MS scribe was collecting a codex of monster stories. He had three different monster stories from at least 2 different Beowulf poems, from which he excised the non-monsterous parts, and then knitted the remains back together, giving us our extant Beowulf poem.

That being said, then, I think that the argument about cannibalism holds up very well for the Grendel section, and not so well for the Grendel's mother section and the dragon. Without looking at the OE, I think there is much less threat of being eaten by the eoten.*

Without the OE in front of me, I don't know what to make of the claim that "The Beowulf-poet weaves the word [eoten] through the narrative..." because I don't know if by "narrative" we mean just the narrative about Grendel, or the whole of Beowulf, or the whole of the Beowulf MS. From the context, it looks like Blurton means the entire Cotton Vitellius A.xv manuscript.

Let's limit it here just to what I remember of the Beowulf poem. As I recall, the sword that Beowulf uses to slay Grendel's mother is a sword of the eoten. By this, we can either assume that she is one of the eoten and it's her sword, or that she's NOT one of the eoten and she just happens to have it.

If she is one of the eoten, then the threat to Beowulf should be a cannibalistic threat. I just don’t see that. Sexual threat, yet. A threat to the community, yes. But the regular consumer of coffee and Danish? I don’t see any real evidence of that in the text.

OK, so if she’s not one of the eoten – presumably that means that the un-encountered Grendel’s father must be one – where does that leave us? Beowulf kills Grendel’s mother with a cannibal’s sword, so Beowulf is committing a symbolic act of cannibalism? Beowulf is the cannibal? It is Grendel’s special eoten man-eating sword, and so Grendel’s mother is being symbolically eaten by Grendel? Again, I don’t see any of this in the text.

Grendel and his mother are part of a general Scandinavian troll tradition. Trolls occupied a sort of semi-human category. On the one hand, they are clearly monstrous, but on the other, they are humanoid physically and mentally. Some Viking heroes even claimed to be partially descended from trolls, so they were close enough to humans to cross-breed.

That troll connection, much more than the word eoten, suggests cannibalism to me. The dragon is a mere animal (unlike Grendel, who is more like a mere person)**, and therefore cannot cannibalize humans. Grendel, though, is close enough to human as a troll that his behavior could be considered cannibalism.

So, the short answer is this: I buy the cannibalism argument, but wouldn’t link it at all to the word eoten.

*Do you like that pun? More to come!
**Get it? Get it?! Gosh, I must be tired ... I'm having too much fun with the puns.

"Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" No. 5

Synopsis: Beowulf and companions, seeking the nectar of the Zumak fruit, come upon a Stonehenge-style structure in a far-away land, presumably Central America as it is covered in Maya glyphs. Beowulf realizes that the monuments "must have been built to recive the chariots of the gods." A pair of mysterious druids suddenly appear and try to capture Beowulf. He and his companions do not do well in the skirmish, in large part because the Shaper's magic is unable to help them, being countered by "a more powerful magic than the world has ever known -- it is called 'Science'!" Unferth flees during the battle and encounters a flying saucer, where he makes a deal with the druid priestess to deliver Beowulf to them, after which time Unferth knocks Beowulf cold from behind during the battle. Beowulf and Nan-zee awake in the spacecraft, flying high above the earth. There they learn from the druid priestess that they have been capturing the greatest warriors on Earth for their gods, and are keeping them in the Chamber of the Sleepers (a kind of suspended animation). The priestess then shoots a beam to the earth to kill all of Beowulf's remaining party. Although "every piece of stone and bone and flesh" are turned into "nothingness," Beowulf's companions emerge with only minor injuries, but are immediately attacked and put in chains by unknown warriors. Beowulf asks about the Zumak fruit, but is told by the priestess that the gods gathered every last bit of it up for their own purposes. He then begins attacking the druids and damaging their ship, awakening all the sleepers, who revolt and defeat the druids. One Greek warrior in particular tells Beowulf that he has seen the Zumak in Crete. Just then, as they are preparing to set the spacecraft down on the continent of Atlantis, the two gods of the druids (and obvious aliens), Ishtar and En-Lil, arrive with ray guns and begin shooting. Beowulf manages to get one of the ray guns and shoots up the ship, causing a chain reaction. As the crashing ship shoots over the active volcano at the center of Atlantis, Beowulf, Nan-zee and the Greek warrior leap out onto the volcano. They race through the market-place of Atlantis, which by chance happens to be sinking at that moment, and manages to make it to a raft -- the only three survivors. The Greek warrior is identified as Ulysses [Odysseus], and the goddess Athena appears in the sky. Ulysses disappears back to his own time, where he will awaken remembering his time on the spacecraft was being spent prisoner on the nymph Calypso's island. Beowulf and Nan-zee vow to go to Crete for the Zumak, and then to return to Daneland to fight both Grendel and Satan.

OK, I am really, really regretting starting this series. I thought that the Dracula / Lost Tribes of Israel issue was over-the-top, but a new top had to be constructed just for this issue to go over it again. The plotline is so confusing that I can't even state for absolute certainty that the above synopsis is accurate -- I'm just giving the best account I can. The drawings, too, are rather confusing, so I sometimes couldn't figure out exactly what was happening. I've put off this installment until late Saturday night because I couldn't figure out any way to structure it -- so I'll just have to walk chronologically through it.

First off, we have the very early 1970s idea of the Chariots of the Gods. For those of you who are too young to know what this is (or just blessed with a sweet, sweet ignorance of crackpot theories), the reference is to a very popular book that claimed that aliens visited Earth's ancient civilizations and gave them technology and religion. Every unexplained glyph was interpreted as some sort of reference to alien technology, and every strange structure was some sort of navigational technology. This issue takes that idea and plays around with it. The "magic" of the druids is some sort of alien tech (Beowulf defeats one druid by short-circuiting his wrist-blasters), and Stonehenge (as well as the fictional Central American Stonehenge) is to guide the alien craft. One of my favorite lines in the issue is this:

Druid Priestess: Your stupidity astounds me! The Earth, like the Sun and the Moon, is round! And the gods built two "stanhengues" far apart for the purposes of triangulation!

Ahem, TRIangulation, with just two? Sounds more like BIangulation to me -- perhaps the alien gods would be wise to build another. We also get a note with the word stanhengues stating that it "is the Old Anglo-Saxon word for 'Stonehenge.'" If I'm correct (and I'm writing this from home, so it might be VERY wrong), that's a reference to Wace saying that the word "stanhengues" comes from Old French (or something similar). Do any Wordhoarders know the exact reference?

By the way, just in case you thought only the Maya were influenced by the alien gods, consider this image of them:

Not only are they pharaonic-looking, but they've got the names of Sumerian gods.

Magic and science also have an interesting relationship to one another. In my post on the previous issue, I remarked about the grim theology in which there appeared to be no god of goodness, only Satan (evil) and Wyrd (uncaring). Here, the Shaper is unable to work his magical incantation against the druids, "Tceffe nalsu ekim ayeh!"* Since the Shaper is the servant of Wyrd, the god of Fate, who we are told is more powerful than Satan (though the Shaper at one point refuses to work magic against Satan in a prior issue, apparently because it was not fated), this seems to suggest that science stands outside of fate, outside of destiny. I'm not sure what that means in the confused theology of Beowulf comics, but there it is.

I suppose what I found most annoying about this issue was that, in their desire to mash-up as many different things as possible, the writing makes no sense. OK, so I'll buy that Beowulf went to Central America, where "Far Eastern Druids" in service of alien gods try to capture him. But when a death ray shoots to the Earth and kills everyone standing around Beowulf's friends, and when we are both told and shown that everything there was obliterated, aren't we at least owed an explanation when only Beowulf's companions survive, and are not in any way visibly injured? I mean, at least let their clothes be torn or their hair be disheveled!

Again, let's say I buy that their alien spacecraft is crashing over Atlantis. I'm supposed to believe that Beowulf, Nan-zee, and Ulysses are able to leap safely from a moving spacecraft? It isn't like this comic book was written in the 1770s -- what do they think paratroupers bother with parachutes for? And they leap onto an erupting volcano? And are the only survivors on the continent? Just consider all of the unbelievably impossible things that happen on just this one page:

1. En-Lil: Ishtar! The propellant leaks! The fire! Set the ship down before we get a chain-reaction!
2. Narrator: Down ... down falls the crippled chariot -- and as it nears a smouldering volcano, weird tremors begin to spread over Atlantis...
3. Beowulf: Hurry! All of you! Seek refuge from the wrath of the gods!
4. Ulysses: Not a moment to lose! Do you not feel the earth shaking? When this ship erupts, the whole continent will erupt with it!
5. Narrator: Racing like the Furies through a crumbling Atlantis market-place are six strong but weary legs... Ulysses: Come this way! I know where we can find a raft to safety! Beowulf: Wyrd! Look! The gods are tolling doomsday!

Sigh ... OK, so just on this page. The first panel, I'll buy. It's unlikely that the alien spacecraft would be quite so delicate and unsafe, but it's possible. The second panel too I'll buy -- it seems like its suggested that the spacecraft itself causes an already active volcano to erupt violently. Any continent small enough to be destroyed by a single volcano would not be a "continent" in my book, but I'll accept the idea that the word is used poetically to refer to a large island.

The third panel, though? The spacecraft apparently has a large, open window (which must make viewing easier, breathing more difficult)? They leap out as the spaceship is streaking across the sky. OK, now just the height alone should have killed them, but even if it were not very high, what about the speed? Even when I was a young kid of the comic-reading demographic, I understood that if I lept from my family's wood-paneled station wagon as it was barrelling down the highway, even though the drop was only about a foot, the landing would probably feel unpleasant. And, if the speed and height weren't enough, the artist draws flames below, so we know they are dropping right into the fires of an erupting volcano.

The fourth panel, then, shows us just how far they are dropping. They seem to be falling long enough to have a conversation. Ulysses is able to feel the ground shaking from mid-air, and also seems to have a basic understanding of a nuclear reaction (guess he had good tutors back on Ithaca). We have some missing action from panels 4-5, during which time they apparently land safely in the flames of the volcano and run down its side into the center of the city.

Why then are they the only survivors? Because Ulysses, who has spent the last few centuries in hypersleep aboard an alien spacecraft, knows where there is a raft that they can take to safety. Apparently, the Atlantians themselves were completely ignorant of where their port was, because none of them made it to safety.

All this begs the question: Why did it take Ulysses (Odysseus) so long to win the Trojan War? The Greeks could have simply catapulted him into Troy. He would have landed safely, and then could have set the city ablaze. He, being invulnerable to fire, would have remained unscathed, while the Trojans, not having any idea where the exits were, would have all burned to death. Then you wouldn't have any pesky Trojan diaspora to found Rome and Britain.

Seriously, though, what the heck is Ulysses doing in this issue? His only jobs seem to be to point out that centuries ago there were Zumak plants in Crete, and to show psychic knowledge of Atlantian raft placement.

Thank the alien gods En-Lil and Ishtar** that there is only one more issue to go -- I couldn't take much more!

*Mike Ulsan is the main writer of the comic.
**With special appreciation to Wyrd, without whom none of this would be possible.


Previous posts in this series:
"Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" No. 1
"Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" No. 2
"Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" No. 3
"Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" No. 4

Wheaton College (MA) job

Unemployed? Underemployed? Sporting your Medieval History PhD around town? Michael Drout has the inside scoop on a medieval history job at Wheaton College.

If you get the job after having first read about it here, you owe me a 15% finders fee on your annual salary. That's fair, isn't it?

Synod of Whitby

Don't know anything about the Synod of Whitby (664*)? Heavenfield has a nice summary and commentary on it. If that's not enough Whitbylicousness to satisfy you, try the Answers.com page or find out what the Catholics say about it vs. what the Anglicans say about it.

Of course, even better is to read Bede's Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation** and watch Bede get worked up into a froth over the date of Easter.

*Note the comments below; in the original post, I got distracted and meant to type the phrase "(in 664 -- as Heavenfield points out, 1343 years ago)" but instead just typed 1343 as if it happened in A.D. 1343. This would have made Bede's Ecclesiastical History a miracle of time travel.
**I know it's translated "Ecclesiastical History of the English People" in the linked Penguin edition, but what's the use of being a medieval lit professor if I can't get all persnickety about such issues?

The Saxon Chronicles

During a telephone conversation with Cyning Meadowcroft today (I'll blog about that in a week or two), he commented on what a shame it is that Hollywood hasn't seen fit to give King Alfred the Great the big epic movie treatment. On a whim, I decided to check YouTube to see if maybe there were Alfred fan films out there ... and there were!

I found the trailers for The Saxon Chronicles, which was apparently shot in two weeks for $10,000. Considering those constraints, the trailers looked pretty good. I'd love to see it.

Unfortunately, the website for the production company seems to be defunct, and the similarly named Saxon: The Saxon Chronicles appears to be a video for a metal band called "Saxon." I'd really like to lay hands on a copy of this. Do any Wordhoarders know how I might get ahold of it?

The two trailers are below.

Mr. Scabies and Academic Blogs

Perhaps my least favorite type of blogging is blogging about blogging. It has the potential to be meta-blogging, but generally just tastes like flat Diet Rite Cola. I hate to have two posts in a row about blogging, but sometimes that's just the way things fall out.

A little brouhaha has broken out over at New Kid on the Hallway regarding this comment Steve Muhlberger made -- and just as Muhlberger is on his blogging vacation, too. The question at hand is whether or not blogging about academic life has peaked. Myself, I'm inclined to think it hasn't -- after all, I read New Kid's fine blog regularly -- but that's just not what the Wordhoard is about.

The side issue has to do with cat blogging -- the reference to "Mr. Scabies." I can't figure out the fixation that academics have with their dang cats. Surely no one thinks anyone else wants to see pictures of their cats, so the pleasure must be somehow exhibitionist. I suppose love of pictures of cats wearing human clothing is at least one point of potential connection between Academia and viewers of the Home Shopping Network.

I suppose if one is blogging about the academic life and one's cats, at least one isn't libeling Dr. Virago as I inadvertantly did in this post. Sorry, Dr. V!

The Unlocked Wordhoard -- Final Arbiter of Medieval Cool

Two weeks ago, I posted that I was considering changing my link policy, and asked for feedback on the proposed changes. And, boy, did I get it! A few folks commented online, but mostly I received private e-mails, ranging from the polite "Please don't de-link me" to the panicked "PLEASE, oh for the love of all that is good in this world, please don't de-link me!"

OK, OK, let's all just take a deep breath and relax. Think of Peter's attitude in Office Space, m'kay?

Some months ago, I had dinner with Jeff Sypeck of Quid Plura? We were talking with another colleague, and Jeff referred to the Unlocked Wordhoard as the "central clearinghouse" for medievalism. I was flattered, but thought he was just being polite. Some of the e-mails I received, though, made it clear that many other medieval blogs rely on the Wordhoard for much of their traffic.

Somehow, without me realizing it, the Wordhoard has become that girl at high school who decides who is cool and who isn't. Get invited to sit at her table for lunch, and you're labeled "cool" for the next four years. Have her address you with scorn, and you can expect four years of swirlies*. The new link policy was taken as an indication that the Wordhoard was about to become a mean girl, arbitrarily apotheosizing some while damning others.

Well, if the Wordhoard is going to decide what's cool and medieval, then by the Venerable Bede, I'm gonna make this a rising tide for ALL boats. The new link policy will be applied primarily to new entries on the blogroll, with a general grandfather-clause for those who are already there.** I think I caused a misunderstanding wherein a lot of people thought I was looking for reasons to cull the herd; that wasn't it at all. I just wanted the blogroll to reflect the Wordhoard's identity. Just because you go a week or two without a medieval post doesn't mean that I'll cackle maniacally and cross you off the blogroll with a big red marker. I might cackle maniacally, but that's just my way.

Ever notice that I've resisted putting comments below the fold? Every comment made here is splashed right on the front page, with no extra clickage necessary. Besides my general computer illiteracy, there is actually an editorial reason for that: Because I want the Wordhoard to be a place for a community of medievalists, not just a site for the pompous pronouncements of my alter-ego, Professor Awesome, PhD. The blogroll will continue to reflect that philosophy.

You're all invited to sit with me in the lunchroom. And if you're all there too, it'll be the cool table.

*"Bogwashing" for you Brits, and "Dunnyflushing" for you Aussies. See how international we are at the Wordhoard?
** I say "general" grandfather-clause to leave myself some wiggle room, in case I need it.

Three Unrelated Links

I'm busy with back-to-school prep for the kids and me both, so I offer for your medievalist viewing pleasure the following three links:

Carolingian over at Medievalisms has a report from the ISAS (International Society of Anglo-Saxonists) Conference.

Dr. Virago has a post about faith-based toys, and writes about how the market for re-tellings of Biblical stories strikes her as medieval. It doesn't strike me that way, but then again, I'm much more familiar with the Protestant sub-culture than Dr. V., and friendlier to the Catholic sub-culture (so friendly, in fact, that I appear to be on every dang Catholic mass mailing list in the country -- just ask my postal carrier!). Anyway, I thought the post was an interesting view into the way modern Christianity is viewed as "medieval" by a medieval scholar.

Jeff Sypeck over at Quid Plura? tries to hunt down the source of a Charlemagne quotation in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and comes up empty. For those who doen't remember, Indiana's father downs a Nazi plane by frightening a flock of birds to fly up in its path and get sucked into the engines, and then attributes this quote to Charlemagne: "Let my armies be the rocks and the trees and the birds in the sky..." It looks like the quote might be made up.

Dendle Responds on Demonic Possession in Anglo-Saxon England

Peter Dendle has commented in this earlier post on Anglo-Saxon demons. As regular Wordhoarders will recall, many of us objected to his research as it was presented in National Geographic. He was good enough to clarify some of the points people objected to.

I'm sure there's a way to move that post to the top, but I can't figure it out, so here it is in link form.

Beowulf and Christianity

The Bourgeois Nerd sent me this link a few days ago, but I resisted putting it on until I had a non-Beowulfian post. Alas, all the news at the moment seems to be about popular adaptations of Beowulf -- perhaps the effect of half of the Anglo-Saxon scholarly world being at ISAS. Why am I not at ISAS? Ran out of time and money. Here's hoping I can make it next time.

In any case, I don't want to wait any longer, so here's "Beowulf, Suffering Servant."

"Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" No. 4

Synopsis: As Beowulf and his companions travel across the desert in search of the Zumak fruit (which Beowulf needs to defeat Grendel), they are set upon by a band of warriors who mistake him for Dracula. After a brief battle, the warriors realize their error and identify themselves as "The Ashers," the Lost Tribe of Israel. They are hunting Vlad the Impaler, who has been plundering the peoples of the desert and drinking their blood. Beowulf agrees to help them. Meanwhile, Grendel reminds Satan that his promise to allow him to fight Beowulf at the next full moon has come due. As Beowulf sits around the fire talking with the Rabbi of the Lost Tribe, the fire engulfs the warriors and shrinks them, sending them to Castle Hrothgar. After a discussion, it is decided that Wiglaf, Hondscio, and Beowulf will wait in the meadhall alone for Grendel. That night, Grendel bursts in and eats Hondscio alive. The battle is going poorly, with Grendel crushing Beowulf. Satan then magically whisks the warriors away to the desert, and Grendel is satisfied to wait for the final battle, knowing that he is supreme. Beowulf asks the Shaper to write of only one battle with Grendel in the poem, so that Hondscio will be immortalized as sacrificing his life for his comrades. At just that moment, Dracula and his men attack. The rabbi is killed. Just as Beowulf and Dracula meet on the battlefield, though, one of Dracula's men is possessed by the Devil and slays Dracula. Satan then announces that he has decided to make Dracula the "first of the Undead." Beowulf and the Lost Tribe, each having lost someone important to them, go their separate ways.



The phrase "jumping the shark" just seems inadequate here. First of all, it has become so cliche that I hesitate to use it at all. Second, the Fonz merely jumped over a single shark. Beowulf, in one issue, fought Dracula, met the Lost Tribe of Israel, and fought a losing battle with Grendel. Not even Abbott and Costello were this audacious in their series of "Abbott and Costello Meet ..." films. No, this goes beyond "jumping the shark."


I was struck by how theologically bleak this series is. Thus far, we have seen two gods: Satan, who is clearly a god of evil, and Wyrd, who is explicitly described as neither good nor evil. Where is the God of Good? In speaking to the warriors of the Lost Tribe, Beowulf says, "You may dress differently and believe in a different god, but we fight for the same cause." Yet Beowulf's god, Wyrd, is a definite presence, and his servants perform miracles (magic) using his power. Satan, the god of evil, can't help but pop into the comic all the time. Yet the God of the Lost Tribe either does not exist or takes no interest in the characters. When Satan summons Beowulf & friends through the flames, the Rabbi tries to counter it with a mystical chant ("Wen si esle tahw!") that fails to do anything. Satan, and evil, appear to rule essentially unopposed.

This issue also makes explicit the idea that these are the actual historical events, and that the poem as we know it is the fictionalization of the events, rather than visa-versa. Perhaps for this reason, the only parts of this issue that aren't absolutely ridiculous are the parts that come from the poem itself. The death of Hondscio, for example, is almost poignant. Nan-zee is neatly removed from that part of the narrative by simply having only Beowulf, Hondscio, and Wiglaf trapped by the magical fire. Then, when Beowulf decides to go face Grendel alone, Wiglaf and Handscio object, and Beowulf agrees to have them join him. The narrator says, "A strong claps of friendship and love by the three comrades -- and as their eyes dilate and redden, they know that never again will they all be together..." When we see Hondscio waiting alone, he contemplates his full life, and how much he loves his wife and children. The death of Hondscio, in the panels below, runs like this:

1. Beowulf: "Away from him, slaughter-demon! Face Beowulf!" Grendel: "Back you putrid nothings! Grendel hungers!"
2. We see Hondscio in Grendels' grip, in obvious pain.
3. Beowulf: "Hondscio! God ... No!"
4. Grendel: "Ggggrrrraaaagg" Wiglaf: "Eaten alive!" Beowulf: "Never again! Never Again!"
5. Beowulf: "For Hondscio!"

Then Beowulf is denied his action hero moment. In the ensuing battle with Grendel, he is clearly losing, and cannot win without the magical potions from Satan. Even then, he is only saved by the intervention of Satan, not because of his own virtue or strength. For the rest of the issue, even while Nan-zee is cracking one-liners during battle, Beowulf cries "For Hondscio! For Hondscio!"

In one last note: When the Shaper uses magic to fight in battle, the magic words are "Siht potnanoc eesstel!" -- another Conan reference.

The two words that best describe this issue: Bleak and silly, by turns. Unfortunately, mostly silly.

Previous posts in this series:
"Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" No. 1
"Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" No. 2
"Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" No. 3

Nazis & Beowulf: Prince of the Geats

I hadn't meant for today to turn into a series of posts about Beowulf: Prince of the Geats, but I keep finding interesting stuff and getting interesting stuff sent to me. Apparently, the Nazis don't much care for B:PotG, describing the project as "left-wing fanatasism."

Me, I'm not a big fan of socialism in any of its guises (national or international), so perhaps now I'll start having the kind of trouble with Nazis that I used to have with Communists. Plus, I'm a miscegenator, so that can't help much.

That's me: Medievalist, anti-socialist, miscegenator. A threat to Nazis and Communists everywhere.

Beowulf and Hunferth

Scott Wegener, the executive producer for Beowulf: Prince of the Geats, was kind enough to send me an image. On the left is the elder Beowulf, and on the right is the elder Unferth (called "Hunferth" in B:PotG). You can find my original post here.

According to the official website, Beowulf is portrayed by Damon Lynch III, and Hunferth by Bob Elkins. Wegener also sent me an image of Beowulf fighting the dragon, but it didn't quite come through the e-mail right, so we might have another image for you later.

By the way, I also found an image of Grendel's Mother ("Helldam") on Deborah Smith Ford's website. Scroll all the way down -- it's the one on the bottom left side.

Beowulf Movies and Heroism

Mary Kate Hurley over at Old English in New York has a post about heroism and the latest spurt of Beowulf movies.

Beowulf Fights Cancer!

In an earlier post, I asked if anyone knew anything about a film project called Beowulf: Prince of the Geats. When no response came, I decided to investigate on my own. What I found is a fascinating project.

According to Scott Wegener, the executive producer, Beowulf: Prince of the Geats is a two-hour long all-volunteer feature film for the benefit of the American Cancer Society. By "all volunteer," they mean that the film had no budget whatsoever. Everything was donated, from the time of the cast and crew to the airfare, food, lodging, boat rental ... everything. The film has already been shot (in Florida, Colorado, and Norway), and is now just in the editing phase. The plan from this point is to sell the broadcast rights to PBS, and try to time it so that it can be aired on PBS just before the Zemeckis/Gaiman Beowulf film is released this fall.

Wegener said he was going for authenticity in the film ... authentic clothing, eating utensils, religious practices, etc., that one might expect from a Viking culture like the Geats. The storyline is going to be as faithful as possible, and will include such oft-omitted scenes as the race with Breca, AND will also include the elderly-Beowulf fight with the dragon! That's right, folks, someone is actually going to do the last part of Beowulf straight up!*

One element, though, is going to be very different. The actor they got to play Beowulf is black. In order to work out how Beowulf could be black in a faithful adaptation, here's how they're doing it:

Beowulf's father is an African explorer who sets out to find the edge of the world. By the time he reaches Geatland, he decides he's traveled far enough, and settles down marrying into the local nobility. In other words, Beowulf and his father aren't just Waegmundings -- they are waaaaaaymundings, from waaaaaaay far away. Beowulf grows up and grows through his adventures. Unferth's partial rehabilitation in the section with Grendel's mother (known as "Helldam" in the film) continues on, and he returns to Geatland with Beowulf as an emissary. After Beowulf's death, Unferth takes his father's map and follows it back to Africa, where he tells of Beowulf's adventures.

Beowulf: Prince of the Geats will begin and end in Africa, with the familiar part of the story told in flashback form by Unferth. It strikes me as a rather elegant way to solve the race problem, and also allows the narration of the familiar story to do difficult things, such as jump ahead fifty years. Plus, I can't wait to read all the freshman essays by those who watched the movie rather than read the book.

At this point, it is too late for those interested to get involved with the production of the movie, but you can still contribute. If you have a loved one who is a cancer victim or survivor, you can donate $50 through B:PotG to the American Cancer Society, and your loved one's name will appear in a list of dedications in the closing credits.** It also strikes me that another way to get involved is to write about it on your web page. Also, if you are a computer-geek-type (and I know there are plenty among us medieval-geek-types), they could use some help with their website.

*And it's about dang time.
** The deadline for this is roughly the end of September, so if you want to get a dedication for your loved one, sooner is better than later. All proceeds go to the American Cancer Society.

Anglo-Saxon Demons

National Geographic is running a piece on Peter Dendle's Demon Possession in Anglo-Saxon England (which I've not yet read). I'm very interested in reading this book because it strikes me as totally wrong, so I'm wondering where Dendle's coming from.

First off, if their leechbooks are any indicator (and I'd say they are), the Anglo-Saxons certainly thought that evil or mischievous spirits caused sickness and madness. In addition to afflictions from being elfshot, people could suffer from "fiendsickness" or "devilsickness." Hagiography had examples of people being tormented by demons or devils, and of course the idea of demonic forces working in our world likely first came to England long before even the Anglo-Saxons did, with the conversion of the Britons. The only way I can see this working out is to have an extremely narrow definition of "possession."

Even then, I'm skeptical of this claim. Let's say that we define "demon" and "possession" very narrowly -- i.e. demon means "evil spirit in league with the Christian Satan" and possession means "absolute control over every element of a person's body." Even then, this is a startling claim to make from negative evidence. Let's say we have no extant examples of such demonic possession from Anglo-Saxon England (we may not under such a narrow definition) -- does this then mean that they did not have demonic possession? That's a pretty big claim to make for a period with limited manuscript evidence.

Furthermore, the article seems to indicate that we do have manuscript evidence of demonic possession, in this 50-year outbreak in Northumbria. It strikes me that this is less likely an "outbreak," and more likely simply one of the few records that survived the dissolution of the monasteries and the fire at the Cotton Library.

Maybe Dendle has some stronger evidence than was introduced in the article, such as Anglo-Saxons seeming to consider demon possession foreign or explicitly referring to it as "Irish" or "Merovingian." Dendle has done other work on demons and devils, so I'm betting he's got more powerful ammunition than this popular article shows us.

h/t Scribal Terror

"Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" No. 3

Synopsis: After being told that he would have to get the Black Viper's venom and Zumak's ambrosia in order to defeat Grendel, Beowulf and a small party set out to sea to defeat the Black Viper. The party also includes the Shaper, Unferth, and the Silent One (Unferth's demon companion). They lose one of their party, and nearly lose Wiglaf as well, when they are attacked by a sea monster. Beowulf decides that he needs advice on how to defeat Satan, and so the Shaper summons Wyrd, the God of Fate, to advise him. Wyrd tells him to "fear neither man nor demon." The party sails an island in "The Darklands," where they split up to scout the island. Unferth summons a pixie-like demon named "Little Omen," who casts Beowulf, Nan-zee, Hondscio, and the Shaper into Nightmareland, where they float around re-living their nightmares. Finally, the Shaper commands Little Omen to free them, but almost as soon as they are freed the party is set upon by pygmy head-hunters. Meanwhile, Grendel is back in Daneland killing Satan's Man-Apes out of frustration because Satan won't let him confront Beowulf yet. Grendel vows that if Satan does not send Beowulf by the next full moon, he will enter Hell and rip Satan to pieces. Back in The Darklands, Beowulf manages to negotiate a peace with the pygmies, but they attack when they learn he's there to kill the Black Viper, which apparently their chief is a god. Beowulf is able to capture the chief and negotiate a peace. He then goes alone and weaponless, again the protests of Nan-zee, to fight the Black Viper. He manages to kill the Black Viper by standing in its jaw and pushing until it cracks the jaw (much like the image on the front cover, sans Nan-zee). He drinks the venom, and plans to go next to drink the ambrosia of Zumak.

This issue is a lot less silly than the previous one, though it often doesn't make sense -- e.g. the sea monster dies in a huge, mystical explosion, dumping the heroes in the sea, but in the next page their ship is fine. Beowulf switches back and forth between a sword and a spiked mace. The summoning of Wyrd doesn't really move the plot forward, and neither does the brief stint in Nightmareland -- I found myself wondering if the book was a few pages too short in the first draft, so perhaps they through in these episodes for length? Also, we have this strange idea that no one is really afraid of Satan, since in the previous book Beowulf sliced his ear, and in this one Grendel threatens him.

There are some interesting things, though. Beowulf goes to great lengths to negotiate with the pygmies, even though these are the least threatening foes they've faced thus far. This is very different from the Beowulf who attacked Satan in Hell -- suggesting an interesting ethic for Beowulf, that he only uses violence against foes who are his match or better, and tries to make peace with those who are weaker than him.

Also interesting was the personification of Wyrd as a god. Wyrd is described as

The omnipotent god of Fate, known by countless names throughout time -- an all-seeing spirit neither good nor evil, neither just nor merciless, who does what must be done and insures that that which is, is that which must be! He is the path of life and death! He is Destiny!

This is, at least on some level, faithful to the idea of wyrd in the poem, though one wonders why anyone would seek advice from such a god.

Also, on the Backwards-Magic-Words front, Wyrd is summoned with the phrase "Uoy taht si -- Iniduoh yrrah," and and Unferth summons Little Omen with "Yaccm ros niwot deta cided sisiht!" -- Winsor McCay apparently being a famous illustrator I'd never heard of before.

Previous posts in this series:

• "Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" No. 1
• "Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" No. 2

More reactions to the Beowulf movie trailer

More reactions to the Beowulf movie trailer can be found at Xoom, Highly Eccentric, and Point of No Return.

By the way, I'm just wondering -- if they can make a CGI character that looks just like Angelina Jolie, why don't they just hire a better actress to play her? How about Helen Mirren? Heck, theoretically you wouldn't even need a woman -- how about Omar Sharif? I just saw him in One Night with the King, and he's just as good as ever. Or one of my favorite actors, Peter Dinklage.

That's it ... Peter Dinklage as Angelina Jolie as Grendel's Mother. I'd pay cash money to see that.

Zombie Chaucer

This movie answers the age-old question: "What would it be like if Chaucer came back as a zombie with poor comic timing?" As a bonus, it also answers the question, "What would a Scottish Dante be like?"

OK, it's not a great movie, but it's just so odd, plus it has the great line, "Your pilgrimage for brains is over, Chaucer!" Now that's comedy!

Prince of the Geats

Speaking of Beowulf film adaptations, do any of the Wordhoarders have inside information on Beowulf: Prince of the Geats (IMDb entry here)? The information on the website is pretty sketchy, but it looks like they are going to have the jump from young Beowulf to old. I'm assuming the character named "Helldam" is Grendel's mother. Also interesting is the choice to have a black Beowulf.

A part of me would be deeply satisfied if the best Beowulf adaptation of all time were a volunteer film used to raise money for charity.

Beowulf Movie Trailer

For those interested in seeing the Beowulf movie trailer, it's available here. We have a return to the reinvention of Grendel's mother as a seductress that seems to be popular in some fantasy adaptations, and was used to poor effect in the 1999 Beowulf movie.

I am getting the impression from comments in interviews, as well as a few of the shots in the trailer, that this film will also have the elderly Beowulf who fights the dragon. Unless memory fails, I think that might make it the ONLY Beowulf adaptation that has done this so far.

Also interesting is that none of the CGI characters look particularly like the actors who portray them (though you can see it a bit in their facial movements), with the exception of Angelina Jolie, who looks like, well, Angelina Jolie.

Promising? No, not really ... but then again, considering the many terrible adaptations of Beowulf in the past, the movie only has to be less completely dreadful in order to place it in the top half of Beowulf film adaptations. The hurdle isn't very high on that one.

WSJ loves Conan

The Wall Street Journal ran this article today about Conan as a literary figure. I've never been a big Robert E. Howard fan, but I think his reputation is likely to rise, as is deserved.

Other than that, I have nothing to add except that last week I was discussing this very issue over lunch with a colleague. He's heard me say before the H.P. Lovecraft is a post-Darwinian author, and he added that Howard is "post-Nietzschean." Yes, that's what you'd hear if you overheard two English professors talking at Ruby Tuesdays.

So, without any other context,

• H.P. Lovecraft = post-Darwinian
• Robert E. Howard = post-Nietzschean

Discuss.

Live! Nude! Geats!

In recent months, I've learned that the Second Commandment of Medieval Blogging is "Thou shalt not suggest Neil Gaiman is a mere mortal."* Therefore, please PLEASE PLEASE, can we forego the requisite "but Neil Gaiman is involved and annoints all his projects with a holy touch" protests, and just proceed as if they have already been made and noted?

The LA Times ran a piece about the coming Beowulf movie, which included this very odd paragraph:

His knack for a good scrap is on show in one of the film's pivotal fight scenes when Beowulf battles Grendel in the nude, mano a beast-o. ("Bob asked if he had to be nude, but we said, 'It's in the poem,' " Gaiman explained.) So in a crafty bit of staging to allow a PG-13 rating, Beowulf's naughty bits are obfuscated by random objects in the foreground. It's more subtle and subdued, but shadows, swords, mead flagons and shoulders block all in a sequence not unlike the prankish cloaking device used in "Austin Powers" films.

Er, how's that? "Bob," I assume, is Robert Zemeckis, and the "he" is the CGI Beowulf. So Gaiman is insisting that Beowulf be nude in his battle with Grendel, because "It's in the poem?!"

Now, Gaiman has complained before that the reporting on Beowulf is less-than-accurate, specifically in the area of actor nudity, and this is the LA Times, so perhaps the report isn't quite right. Assuming for now, though, that it IS right, Gaiman's reading of the poem is that Beowulf fights Grendel nude?

Let me confess that the only Beowulf I have at home is the Seamus Heaney translation, and not a single copy in Old English unless I head into the office. I've looked through the Heaney translation to see where Gaiman is getting this homoerotic Beowulf from, and the only thing I can figure is that it is his reading of when Beowulf removes his armor and vows to fight Grendel weaponless. I even did a little Google search on the terms "Beowulf" and "nude" and "naked," to see if there was some tradition about a nude Beowulf that had somehow passed me by, and the only thing I found was this Rockwell Kent illustration from the 1930s.

Off the top of my head, the only appropriate OE word I can think of is "nacod," from which we obviously get our Modern English word "naked." Where's Gaiman getting this idea from ... and what the heck did he think actually was going on in that meadhall most nights? Heck, I'm not even sure that Grendel was naked, since he's of the troll-type.

Regardless, it is disconcerting how often the words "nude" and "naked" are being associated with this new Beowulf movie. If Hollywood is that desperate to have nudity in a canonical work of medieval literature, they might pick something out of the Decameron -- it gives lots of options.

h/t Old English in New York

*The First Commandment of Medieval Blogging being "Thou shalt not show insufficient zeal in thy praise of Tolkien."

Medieval World, USA

About a week or so ago, Modern Medieval included a link in this post to Medieval World, USA, a theme park being built in Colorado. Though there is plenty of information on the site, I wasn't satisfied, and so decided to be a good little scholar and do research; i.e., I called them up on the phone and talked to Mr. Roger Gomez about this project.

Middle Age Productions isn't new to medievalism; they've been putting on the Colorado Medieval Festival for some time now. Many of the Renaissance Faires around the country are for-profit enterprises, and others are put together by groups such as the Society for Creative Anachronism, but this group is an independent not-for-profit, which is part of what makes their vision so bold.

That vision, according to Gomez, is to create a living history site based on the European Middle Ages. He compared it to Colonial Williamsburg in style. In order to create a more authentic atmosphere, the plan is to set it at a particular period, the Twelfth Century. Because they did not want the park to be restricted in terms of nationality, though, they are conceiving of it as a 12th-century trade center, a place where various cultures might come together to exchange goods and services. Their craftors will have period knowledge, and they even envision some type of apprenticeship programs.

At the moment, though, the park is still just a concept, as they still lack the most important element of all: land. The plan calls for 640 acres, 400 of which will be covered in crops typical of the Middle Ages, 35 acres for the castle and village, 60 acres for the tournament field, and 80 acres for parking. The idea is that a family in the US that might not have the time or resources to head to Europe might be able to get in the car, park in that 80 acres, and then immerse themselves in the 12th Century. Without that land, though, nothing can be developed. At the moment, that appears to be the first priority.

If you're interested in getting involved, or just want to find out more about the project, you can contact Medieval World, USA at 2007.info@medievalworld.us.

Slate and Cakes

Two unrelated items:

In a post over at A Corner of Tenth-Century Europe, the blogger* comments that most of the extant Visigothic charters are on slate. Now, he attributes this fact to them coming down to us from only two main caches, but it strikes me that it is just as likely the permanence of stone. In either case, I had no idea that such things as charters were ever written in/on stone. Does anyone out there know of other medieval cultures that did the same thing?

And, from Studenda Mira via Quid Plura?, this Sutton Hoo helmet cake was apparently featured on "Ace of Cakes," a show I've seen only once. Just in case anyone was wondering, my birthday is next month (*cough*cough*).

*I'm not sure whether he's supposed to be anonymous or not. I know the name, but it isn't on the blog, so I'll just call him "The Blogger." Sounds ominous, no?

Blogroll Policy Reform

Wordhoarders,

As the online medievalist community continues to grow, my blogroll is growing longer and longer. Just today I added SCA Life to the roll, as well as to my Google Reader subscriptions. Two days ago I ran into a former student of mine who runs the website Alabama Democrat, which was on my blogroll for a long time, then was removed when it went defunct, and was just resurrected about a week ago.

All this has me thinking about updating my old unofficial blogroll policy. It can be boiled down to meeting any of these conditions:

• If I already know the blogger personally (and it isn't a diary blog).
• If the blog links to my blog.
• If the blogger regularly posts on medieval matters.
• If the blogger regularly posts on literary matters.
• If the blogger regularly posts on academic matters.
• If the blog updates regularly (at least once per month)

When I first started using this policy, my blogroll's secondary purpose was to act as my own personal "favorites" page. Nowadays, I rarely enter through my own blogroll; instead, I subscribe through Google Reader. In other words, my blogroll is now purely a service to my readers, a kind of suggestion of other sites you might like.

Over the last couple of years, the Unlocked Wordhoard has evolved from a general "let's talk about smart things" blog to a central clearinghouse for all things medievalist. Indeed, some months ago I silently made a policy to blog only on medieval topics,* and the result was that in a few months time my traffic on the site leaped up. This increase in traffic** suggests to me that there was a real need out there for what the Wordhoard has become.

Longtime Wordhoarders might have noticed a few other changes over the last year. I removed the section entitled "Famed Words from the Hoard" (basically a "Greatest Hits" roll) because little of that content was medieval. I've become as conscientious as possible about announcing new medieval bloggers when I find them, in order to support our community. The biggest thing that has not been transformed is my blogroll. Therefore, I am considering making changing my blogroll policy to the following:

Sites included on the blogroll must meet ALL of the following conditions:

• A site must contain occasional-to-frequent medieval content.
• A site must be updated regularly.
• A site must not have been defunct for more than a few months.

Obviously, much of this is up to my own interpretation. What is "occasional-to-frequent?" My first impulse for "updated regularly" would be to say at least once per month, but it would depend. Also, "defunct" bears some interpretation, as a lot of my fellow bloggers are academics who blog infrequently over the summer. And, of course, there's the unofficial set of caveats -- for example, any site dedicated to medieval-themed pornography would not likely get a link.

Since the blogroll has long since become a public service, though, I don't want to change policy without hearing from the Wordhoarders. What do YOU think? Is this too restrictive? Is it a long-overdue change? While I'd prefer comments below, I also invite private e-mails to me on this matter if you have something to say that wouldn't be appropriate for public consumption. Please let me know what YOU think.



*Yes, I violate my own policy from time to time. Heck, if you can't break your own rules, whose CAN you break?
**By the way, for new bloggers out there, don't sweat the traffic issue. Too many bloggers see this as a contest. My original goal for the Wordhoard was to have 50 viewers per month. Now, while I have far exceeded that, I don't think 50 viewers per month is anything to be ashamed of. Don't think you have to blog on the latest celebrity gossip or political scandal just to get readers. Instead, focus on writing good things for the readers you DO have, and sending them to links you think will interest them. End of sermon.

"Beowulf: Dragon Slayer" No. 2

Synopsis: After having been magically spiriting into a swamp by Unferth, Beowulf and his three companions (Nan-zee, Wiglaf, and Hondscio) are attacked by Swamp Men as they sink deeper into the quicksand. On Nan-zee's advice, they allow themselves to be pulled under. Meanwhile, Grendel and his mother talk about their origins, as descendants of Cain and "Grebnel." Though mental telepathy, Satan orders Grendel to kill any he will at the Castle Hrothgar except for the King, Queen, and Shaper. When we return to Beowulf and companions, we learn the the quicksand was a gateway to the underworld, so while they are safe from the Swamp Men, they are now in Hell. They are immediately set upon by "Medulus," Satan's three-headed watchdog, which Beowulf kills with his minotaur helmet. After sleeping (during which time Nan-zee teaches Beowulf "the art of softness without weakness"), they are attacked by various demons, until they come into the presence of Satan himself, who tells them that he has instigated all this trouble out of boredom, as a game. Beowulf kicks Satan in the ear, and Satan magically spirits them out of the underworld. Meanwhile, Grendel attacks Heorot mead hall at the Castle Hrothgar. Beowulf and friends rush up to find him, but just as Grendel prepares to ambush them, Satan orders him to return to the swamp. In the castle, Beowulf meets Hrothgar, Wealtheow, and Unferth. Unferth begins plotting more ways to kill Beowulf.

This issue is a lot sillier than the first one. For example, magic incantations are simply words spoken backwards, so in the first issue when Unferth magically sends Beowulf and company into the swamp, he says "Artsuh Taraz Hcarps Osla," "Also Sprach Zarathustra" backwards. Fair enough, I suppose ... but in the section issue, the Slave-Maiden of Satan issues forth her final magical curse, "Enoyna! Sinnet!" Yes, that's right, she curses them with the phrase "Tennis, anyone?" backwards. Oh, woe unto any who find themselves invited to a tennis match -- in HELL!

Then there are things that just don't seem to make any darn sense. For example, Beowulf fights the three-headed watchdog with his helmet after complaining that he doesn't have any way to sever the dog's heads. Apparently, his sword has gone missing, and it doesn't appear in any of the panels. Then, he suddenly has the sword again for the rest of the story. Also, there is the idea that they are saved from the Swamp Men by being sucked into Hell. Um, isn't Hell by definition worse than any swamp? At least in the swamp there were a finite number of Swamp Men, as opposed to an infinite number of troll-demons in Hell.

But the silliest moment of all is when Beowulf gets angry that Satan has described them as "toys," so he kicks him in the ear. Kind of makes the Harrowing of Hell seem a lot less difficult when you can wander into Hell and kick Satan in the ear. Please note, too, from the panel, that Satan is a whiner.

Also, disappointingly, the writers seem to have given up on alliteration for the Shaper, and instead have him speaking in rhyme:

They ride the tide of heroes' seas to free a shore of the oppressed!
Those cast aside unchain their pride and put them through death's
test!
A spell is weaved, the die is cast, the battlers breathe their last!
A costly cost if all are lost, a blot on Daneland's past!

The previous alliterative poem was nothing great, but the meter here is terrible, and it gives us the wonderfully craptastic phrase, "costly cost." Yeesh! Let's hope they return to alliteration; they were better at it.

You can find the previous post in this series here.

Sea Stallion Update

News for Medievalists has an update on the Sea Stallion, a Viking longship replica journeying from Roskilde to Dublin, which apparently needs a tow at sea to get it to Orkney on time.

You can follow the Sea Stallion's progress on this interactive map.

"The Kingdom": Fantasy or Historical Fiction?

CBS won a bidding war for a TV series called "The Kingdom," still very early in development. In reading through various articles, it appears that it is still little more than a concept. In that oh-so-Hollywood way, it is being described in terms of other shows, such as a "medieval 'Entourage'" and "a sort of 'Princess Bride' meets 'Entourage.'" Jeff over at Quid Plura? is less than enthusiastic about the "Entourage" comparison, and Matthew over at Modern Medieval isn't getting his hopes up, but as I've never seen "Entourage," I can blithely go about my merry way. Two names have been connected with the project so far: Chad Hodge and Barry Sonnenfeld. I've never seen anything Hodge has been connected with, and Sonnenfeld's is a mixed bag, so I'm willing to hold out a little hope.

One interesting thing about the descriptions is that it is variously described as a "a Middle Ages drama set in Europe's world of castles, kings and typhoid fever" and a "fantasy drama." Now, the new king is named "King Lucas" -- and while I'm not a historian, I sure can't remember any "King Lucas" references in the literature. It seems, then, that the story will not be fiction based on historical events, but that the history itself will be fictionalized -- fine by me. When they describe it as "set in Europe" and the "Middle Ages," though, it implies that the setting will be historical even if the characters are not. When, on the other hand, they describe it as a "fantasy drama," and compare it to "The Princess Bride," it suggests that the setting itself will be fictionalized.

So, will the setting have magic and giants and dragons, or will it have Cistercians and trade guilds and trebuchets? From how early this is in the development phase, I'm not sure even the creators know yet.

Medieval Animatic

Here's a very short animated film on the dangers of infidelity. Or perhaps regicide. Or perhaps gluttony. Hat tip: Stan Cynedom (sorry, I can't get the accent marks in there)

Viking (non-word) Hoard

I really don't have anything to say about the find of the Harrogate Viking treasure hoard except to say this: Hey, look, they're displaying a Viking treasure hoard!

People who DO have something to say:

• The Cranky Professor (and here a bit too)
• Cronaca
• Scribal Terror

UPDATE: News for Medievalists has the text of three articles on the hoard.

Alfred's Meadhall and Wild West Show

I promised a couple of more posts about this article over at Modern Medieval, and this is the second. A few years before it closed, my wife and I stumbled upon the National United States Marshals Museum in Laramie, Wyoming.* We had no idea it was there, and noticed a sign as we were looking for somewhere to get gas and change diapers (my daughter was still quite young). It was a real jewel, hidden out there; we ended up spending the whole day. What really impressed me was the sheer numbers of locals who showed up to work at the thing on a volunteer basis. There were so many passionate volunteers that I assumed we had stumbled onto it during some sort of special event or festival, but when I asked around I learned that it was just a normal day.





Having had that experience, I completely understand why the fellow in this article finds Laramie to be a good site to build a meadhall. Even if the locals don't quite understand the whole meadhall thing, they at least get the basic impulse. For those of you who don't have the patience to read the article, a fellow by the name of Cyning Meadowcroft is building a two-story Anglo-Saxon meadhall in Laramie County, Wyoming, in order to honor Alfred the Great. The Billings Gazette includes this picture of the progress on Angelcynn Hall to date:

Next time I'm out that way, I'll have to go by to talk to this fellow a bit. The two big questions on my mind:

1. How did you convince your ex-wife to move back to America so you could build a meadhall?
2. Your name is "Cyning Meadowcroft?" Like, really? Did your parents name you that, or did you change your name?**
   

*According to the Department of Justice, it's moving to Arkansas.
** "Cyning" means "King" in Old English, and the pronounciation guide in the Billings Gazette article makes clear that he pronounces it in the OE way.

Mirror in the Smoke

One more thing before bed tonight...

I ran across a blog with occasional medieval content called Mirror in the Smoke, by an undergrad medieval studies major at the University of Sydney. The sun never sets on medievalism, my friends.

The Latest on the Beowulf Movie

LLCoolCarl has an update on the upcoming Beowulf movie, along with his trademark wit. I have to confess, I can't share in the messianic confidence Carl and many others place in Neil Gaiman. The only film I've seen with which he's been associated was the bland and overhyped Princess Mononoke. Comic books and novels aren't movies, so I see no reason to get all excited.

So, please, Wordhoarders, desist from telling me that the new movie won't suck because Neil Gaiman is involved. It might not suck, I desperately hope it doesn't suck, but that raspy sound you hear is me not holding my breath.

Disney Princess Legitimacy

You can tell it is summer and all the major medieval conferences are now over, because we seem to have entered the silly season of medievalism. Carolingian over at Medievalisms has a post about Disney princesses, in which she evaluates the relative claims of legitimacy of six princesses: Belle, Jasmine, Cinderella, Ariel, Aurora (Sleeping Beauty), and Snow White. According to her analysis, the strongest claim of legitimacy can be made by Aurora, "as she is royal by birth, by clear lawful marriage, and by the hinted production of a legitimate heir."

One thing I was confused about, though ... in her analysis, Snow White is in the list of "relatively economically disadvantaged women." Now, I haven't seen the movie for a looooong time, but in the Disney version, wasn't she the daughter of the king, with the villain playing dual roles of "evil stepmother" and "usurping regent?" Or have I conflated Sleeping Beauty and Snow White in my memory?

Idyllic Peasants Dancing 'round the Maypole (and probably playing hackysack, too)

Matthew Gabriele over at Modern Medieval had an interesting post yesterday that will probably garner THREE different posts in response, with this being the first. He unearthed an article about a fellow developing Oberkleinberg, "an environmentally, economically and socially sustainable community [...] looking like a medieval village but powered by cutting edge 'green' technology." In other words, he's trying to recreate the image of the Shire that drew so many hippies to The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings.

Gabriele laments the ways in which the medieval is characatured, both as violent and dirty ("There's some lovely filth over here, Dennis"), and as happy and fae. He's right, I think, to smash his head against his keyboard at the ridiculousness of it. Real people lived in the Middle Ages -- real people who lived lives very similar to our own. They were born, faced sibling rivalry, played sticks and dolls, hit puberty, fell in love, some days liked their work, some days hated their work, married, fought with their spouse, loved their spouse, had a brood of children, felt annoyance/pride in their children, began to feel the aches of old age setting in, married those children off, enjoyed their grandchildren, and died. Unlike Oberkleinberg, most of them didn't live in a community "with a constantly rotating population and built on top of a huge underground parking garage" -- though perhaps revolutionary archeological findings will prove me wrong on that point.

Still, let's not lose perspective. The medieval has "always already" been constucted in ahistorical terms. Even in the Middle Ages, the medieval wasn't particularly historically accurate. When I look at Geoffrey of Monmouth's History of the Kings of Britain, I see a text as much invested in mythology as history. The medieval is always the other, and as such acts either as a Golden Age utopia (like Camelot, the Shire, or Oberkleinberg), or as the demonic parody of the present. We construct visions of the medieval because we want to create a foundation for our visions about our present.

What is Oberkleinberg? It is a $56 million land development ... but the target consumer is the kind of person who has a lot of disposable income who feels guilty about it. Saavy consumers are accustomed to the cloying pandering to this market (think Ameriprise Financial commercials), so Oberkleinberg is knocked out of its contemporary context and made strange so that the consumers can experience this development without guilt. Consumers will be paying a premium to make their own ice cream and cobble their own shoes at their time share. What they are really paying for, though, is not the "medieval" experience -- they're paying for the feeling of political rectitude that they get, the same product being sold in the form of Priuses and carbon offsets. Do I think it is silly that people feel so guilty about spending their own money that they have to pretend to be some kind of time travellers to do it? Sure, I do -- but that doesn't change the fact that it is THEIR money, not mine, and if they want to live in The Village, they are welcome to it.

I guess I'm no more bothered by the happy-frolicking-around-the-maypole construction of the medieval than I am by the evil-inquisitor-torturing-a-poor-healing-woman-during-the-Crusades-while-simultaneously-dying-from-the-Black-Plague construction. And, hey, maybe when I retire I'll want to live in a place like Oberkleinberg ... but I'll wear store-bought shoes and eat store-bought ice cream.

A Corner of Tenth-Century Europe

The blog A Corner of Tenth-Century Europe has apparently been up and running for about seven months, yet somehow I've missed it. Don't miss the page on Crusader motives.

hat tip About: Medieval History (thanks Melissa Snell!)

I see London, I see France, I see medieval underpants!

Lately the medieval blogosphere has seemed like it was run by 10-year-old boys, with lots of references to poop and underwear. I had resisted writing about the underwear issue because I did not go to Leeds and have not read the paper in question, but it has become so ubiquitous that it seems to need a smack.

For those not aware of what I'm talking about, apparently in a paper at the International Medieval Congress in Leeds, a scholar argued that the rise in literacy was helped along by the invention of underwear, since discarded underwear could be made into cheap paper. You can get more details from News for Medievalists, plus commentary from Modern Medieval, and a really thorough round-up of news reports from LLCoolCarl at Got Medieval.

Like I said, I haven't read the paper, and I suspect that in its original form, the author is probably much more careful about making such definite claims before a scholarly audience. So, let me offer the caveat here that I am criticizing the argument as it has been reported, not the scholarly paper.

This seems to me a rather backwards, like claiming that the spread of gas stations caused people to drive more, with the invention of the assembly line being of ancillary importance at best. It strikes me as far more reasonable to suggest that the printing press created a rise in literacy, which created a demand for more books, and that underwear was simply one of many sources of cheap rags for meeting this demand for books.

But enough being reasonable. This is the Unlocked Wordhoard, repository of everything absurd, so I want to suggest that the rise of underpants wearing was driven by a market in used underwear, so that the medieval person could say, "well, I'll invest in this underwear because I know I'll be able to recoup a small part of that investment later when I sell it to be made into books."

Yes, that the new meme! Increased literacy caused people to wear underpants, not visa-versa! And I already have proof: Paris Hilton, known non-underwearer, is also not a very literate person. I, on the other hand, read a great deal, and I wear underpants every day. Indeed, when my children were illiterate, they wore diapers, not underpants, but now that they are literate, they wear underpants.

Still not convinced? You are reading this, right? And you are wearing underpants, right? And you do not read blogs while showering (sans underpants), right? Aaaah, we now see that the argument can be taken even further: If you aren't wearing underwear, it is impossible to read! Oh, sure, you can sound out the directions on a shampoo bottle, but not real literacy. I can't remember the last time I read a novel and had no underwear on.

So, in conclusion: Underwear was invented by medieval readers to allow for the creation of longer works like novels. Support literacy: Wear your underwear!

Semper ubi sub ubi.