The Supreme Shaper

The Weaving Narrative of the Beowulf Epic

During the Spring ’22 semester, I took Dr. Carol Jamison’s Senior Seminar class at Georgia Southern University. The focus was on Seamus Heaney’s Beowulf. Full transparency: I was not as excited as I should have been. Spending fourteen weeks in old, epic poetry is not where I typically choose to spend my time. I was wrong.

The texts for the class included:

• Seamus Heaney’s Beowulf a New Verse Translation Bilingual Edition, 1999
• Maria Dahvana Headley’s Beowulf: A New Translation, 2020
• John Gardner’s Grendel, 1971
• Michael Crichton’s Eaters of The Dead, 1976
• Susan Signe Morrison’s Grendel’s Mother: The Saga of the Wyrd-Wife, 2015
• Maria Dahvana Headley’s The Mere Wife: A Novel, 2018

The diversity in the texts provided more than a simple study of a classic; it opened the door for conversations about literature in general, its purpose, and its capabilities. My particular curiosity was piqued when a classmate asked, “what makes Grendel a monster?” The following is the resulting essay.

Introduction

Once upon a time, I wrote: 

Now, as I encounter the Shaper in Beowulf, I realize I will not – more importantly, should not – ever fully realize my quest for post-structural inclusion; this idea has far more to do with intellectual honesty than my writer credentials.

In Michael Livingston and John William Sutton’s 2006 essay “Reinventing the Hero: Gardner’s Grendel and the Shifting Face of Beowulf in Popular Culture,” the authors assert that most all Beowulf inspired works before John Gardner’s 1971 Grendel support the Beowulf/hero, Grendel/monster motif saying: 

I will get back to the authors’ perceived variation of Gardner. For now, the initial question created by their argument prompted fellow academic Dacie Riegner to ask, “what makes Grendel a ‘monster’?”

This seemingly simple question is an important one. It speaks directly to the purpose of stories and their ability to supply context for different perspectives surrounding the human condition in relation to the author’s vision, imagination, and purpose. Throughout history, stories have functioned as a holder of memories, experiences, secrets, desires, life lessons, and distractions. Beowulf is no different. In this epic poem, layers of history and speculation have given rise to numerous translations, critical interpretations, theories, and reimaginings. 

From this vantage point, I offer that it is the Shaper that creates (or attempts to create) the heroes and the monsters of these stories. Throughout each of the works examined – the 1999 translation of the original by Seamus Heaney, Gardner’s Grendel, Michael Crichton’s 1976 Eaters of the Dead, Susan Signe Morrison’s 2015 Grendel’s Mother, Maria Dahvana Headley’s 2018 novel The Mere Wife, and Headley’s 2020 translation of the original – the Shaper is the only constant, weaving the story in much the same way as we see Wealhtheow using the mead cup to weave peace. In each work, the characters shift, as does the story, not by truth, but by the words of the Shaper. While all works are essentially telling the same story, it is through the work of the Shaper that the concurrent systems of power are either supported, exposed, or destroyed.

Approach

There is a singular, original copy of the Beowulf manuscript. After extensive document analysis, scholars readily accept that two monks penned the manuscript. While such evidence suggests two authors, the original creator cannot be definitively surmised. The origin of the epic poem is currently unknowable. Although penned by two hands, it is possible that the manuscript is no more than a dictation of sorts to record a previously oral tale. In any case, the final story has been crafted in a singular offering; its existence is evidence enough of a Shaper, whether identified or not.

In all translations discussed here, the translators are known. While their work stems directly from the original itself, we can consider their purposes. The art of translation is both about language and choices made inside those languages. The fictional retellings considered also have known authors. While those authors may have created a persona for the narration, they are still the creator of the persona. Therefore, the Shaper in these instances can be identified. 

I will analyze the works based on the Shaper’s (translator/author/narrator) motivation as the primary force behind characterization and event description. Additionally, the conversation will focus on differing effects resulting from the storytelling. Therefore, a Narratology approach is best suited to the topic. This approach is as close to the post-structural idea that I can intellectually reconcile; although the author may be dead, the Shaper is eternal, living on through the words on the page. While outside the scope of support in the current discussion, my perspective is that disregarding the narrator’s motivation is to ignore an irreplaceable piece of storytelling. 

There is room for Marxist intersectionality. In his 2020 Norton Guide Literary Studies, Dr. M.A.B Habib lists the following as imperative to a Marxist study: concentration on the author, historical context, production and audience, ideology, and social relations (230). In these contexts, I will speculate on the motivations of the Shaper. In some instances, the authors claim that the effects are unintentional. Nonetheless, these effects exist; while a Shaper is always present, he is not always successful. The listener/reader can best see the motivations and intentions of the Shaper through a combination of these lenses.

In preparation, we must acknowledge all the things we do not know about the poem. Kevin S. Kiernan’s 1981 work, Beowulf and the Beowulf Manuscript, provides a wide range of insight concerning authorship and date range. He says, “no linguistic or historical fact compels us to believe that Beowulf was written before the time of the extant MS” (Kiernan, ix). Because the date range cannot be concretely determined, we can question the identity of the Shaper, and his intent. 

Due to the variations and options afforded when entering into a conversation of this magnitude, it is essential to establish a context – more appropriately perhaps, an anchor – against which the conversation can refer back as the cornerstone of discussion. A “Beowulf Zero” must be established. Howell Chickering’s article “Beowulf and the ‘Heaneywulf’” successfully argues that no singular translation will ever satisfy all tastes but that “‘Heaneywulf’ certainly stands up as one of the better poetic paraphrases of the original” (177).  Thus, I designate the Heaney translation as the conversation touchpoint – Beowulf Zero. 

Seamus Heaney, Beowulf, 1999

Beginning with Heaney’s translation, we find those expected characteristics in the traditional telling of Beowulf. It is a beautifully crafted, elegiac, epic poetry piece. There is fantastic storytelling and highlighting of the Heroic Code. However, it is also historically patriarchal, illustrative of the subjugation of the Othered, and showcases the quest for retention of power and the supporting systems. 

Livingston and Sutton point out the difference in use between the feminine and masculine use of the term “aeglaeca (or aglaeca), an Anglo-Saxon word with a range of meanings,” that is found in the original manuscript attached to a multitude of characters, both poised as heroic and fringe (10). The masculine form typically had positive connotations in these differing translations, while the feminine is considered wretched. In the case of Grendel’s mother, it is always negative, as seen in line 1259, where Heaney translates, “Grendel’s mother, monstrous hell-bride, brooded on her wrongs” (Heaney). Overall, the gender roles presented in this translation fall neatly into king, warrior, women, and monsters. 

Heaney does not shy away from the monstrous when making his translation choices. Jennifer Farrell’s 2008 essay “The Evil Behind the Mask: Grendel’s Pop Culture Evolution” argues that “the original poet goes great lengths to make him as alien as possible,” a tradition that is typically upheld as Grendel and his mother are described in monstrous, grotesque fashion (935). This is not surprising as the traditional interpretation of the work typically favors this positioning of characters. The royalty is the exalted honored. Women function at the behest of those men in power. Anyone outside this system, or in opposition to this system, is the monstrous other. It is the classic hero/villain story arch. The Shaper in the original poem, whether the scop, the scribe, or the far-removed monk, crafted stories that supported the othering of those without power or in opposition to that power. 

John Gardner, Grendel, 1971

These expected motifs are traditionally upheld until Gardner rewrites the tale from a new perspective – that of the Grendel monster himself. Gardner portrays Grendel as a childlike creature, jealous and abandoned by the humanity he desperately wants to be a part of.

As the new Shaper, Gardner intended an alteration of perspective to create a furthering of the hopeful hero by contrasting the brooding purposelessness of Grendel. However, scholars agree that audiences now empathize with Grendel, who appears less monstrous in many critical readings. Moreover, as the new Shaper, Gardner gives Grendel the ability to express contrarian ideas. Grendel conveys his opinion of Beowulf, which is a stark contrast to any previous insight, saying, “I understood at last the look in his eyes. He was insane” (Gardner 162). This juxtaposition illuminates what Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie calls “the danger of the single story” (Adichie). Until a storyteller offers the reader a series of events from an alternative perspective, they will continue to assume that this is all there is to the narrative. This assumption colors the overall idea of truth. Whatever the original purpose intended by the transition of perspective, Gardner has eradicated the single story. 

In Gardner, the critic has a Shaper that can be known and considered – and disagreed with. Whether intended or not, Gardner creates a philosophical discussion concerning the makings of heroes and monsters, the validity and importance of a moral code, and probable consequences when left unheeded. Through the eyes of Grendel, many readers discover a concept not yet considered: the actual truth of Beowulf’s assumed heroicness.

If characterizing Beowulf as a hero is questionable, then might the identification of Grendel as a monster be as well? What are other traditional assumptions now open for reinterpretation? According to Crichton, all of them.

Michael Crichton, Eaters of the Dead, 1976

            Where Gardner offered Grendel’s perspective, Crichton gives the reader a whole new idea of “monster” in the cannibalistic and matriarchal wendol tribe. While Eaters of the Dead is arguably the most different and divergent Beowulf retelling (some would insist it is hardly Beowulf at all), Crichton himself attests to that intention in the essay “A Factual Note on Eaters of the Dead,” added at the end of the book where he explains the origin was an argument over the excitement of the original work. In creating this retelling, Crichton acknowledges that, “This idea of uncovering the factual core of the narrative was appealing but impractical. Modern scholarship offered no objective procedure to separate poetic invention from underlying fact” (194). Therefore, Crichton had to take a different approach. 

The result is a tale of outlandish fiction imitating fact which Livingston and Sutton characterize as, “Crichton us[ing] the poem to investigate contemporary sociological phenomena. In particular, his focus is on our media-driven world and our willingness to accept misinformation as reality” (Livingston & Sutton 4). Again, intentionally or not, this is an area where Crichton’s novel exposes the power of the Shaper (now Crichton himself). By employing the fiction of a new and distinct narrative using the historical figure Ibn Fadlan, Crichton gives his fiction of fantastic impossibility an air of realism, giving it more in common with the original Beowulf than first imagined. Richard Utz laments: 

Given the (partly self-sought) splendid isolation of medieval studies from the public, should we be surprised when two hundred years of academic scholarship—mostly disseminated amongst ourselves, providing detailed evidence that the ius primae noctis or Right of the Lord’s First Night was never actually practised, but was a rhetorical and fictional device invented by the medieval and early modern nobility—can be obliterated by one single 177-minute Braveheart-rending blockbuster featuring Mad Max Mel Gibson? (83)

And obliterate the scholarship he does. Crichton succeeds in creating a fictional novel that not only appeals to the masses, but to the movie industry as well. We are beginning to see more clearly that the Shaper, not historical accuracy, controls the story. This control is led not only by a Shaper’s desire to enhance perspective and convey a story, but also to appeal to an audience who has outgrown or grown tired of the previous tellings. Whether intentional or not, Gardner and Crichton effectively open Beowulf up to the imagination of the critic and the creative.  

Susan Signe Morrison, Grendel’s Mother, 2015

            As a scholar and a creative, Morrison takes full advantage of this opening, shifting the perspective to a female Shaper. One could argue that such variety encourages yet more variety. This is the case when the perspective moves away from the he/said, he/said of Beowulf and Grendel, and toward the perspective of Grendel’s mother, Brimhild. In reimagining the epic poem from her perspective, we encounter an entirely different telling, offering an insight that forces audiences to consider the lens of the patriarchy in the previous tellings. In the Heaney translation, we are unable to connect with the Grendelkin. Farrell rightly identifies that much of this difficulty stems from the emphasis created by the Shaper (935). The perspective is clearly one-sided, favoring Hrothgar, Beowulf, and the system of power they have created and warred to maintain. Even Morrison’s version carries the patriarchal lens baggage of the Heaney translation, keeping the description of Beowulf and Grendel’s mother intact as “Bold Beowulf conquered the kin of Cain, healing Heorot. Then the warlike wench, hateful whore, miserable monster mother,” (164). Except in Morrison’s reshaping, the reader already knows none of this is true. Brimhild is the daughter of her rapist king husband who is ostracized and othered when the truth of their linkage (and thus Grendel’s incestuous parentage) comes to light. 

Morrison invites the reader to meet Grendel’s mother as a subjugated woman whose quality of life is controlled and destroyed by the whims and power of her husband king; Hrothgar can, and does, discard Brimhild as easily as he chose her. Morrison then introduces the reader to a new Grendel, the son of an abandoned mother and a rapist father. This changes everything. Now, we must recognize the original poem as containing the historical bias of a patriarchal overshadow. When viewed in this light, more layers of inference are discovered. The perspective of Grendel’s mother casts a spotlight on the subjugation of women that the classical canon often overlooks.

Maria Dahvana Headley, The Mere Wife, 2018

Where Morrison exposes, Headley’s The Mere Wife exposes and destroys. The story is a modern, arguably feministic, and/or Marxist telling of the classic, an approach of which Headley is neither secretive nor apologetic. As the new Shaper, Headley acknowledges the Shapers of the past saying, “thank you…to translators, to tales told, to scholars of crumbling manuscripts, to disputed definitions, to passionate readers, you bring me the brass balls and the talons to write my own versions” (The Mere Wife, 307-308)

 The Headley reimagination is set in the modern 21^st century. Interestingly, the ability to set the heroic journey in any time period while maintaining authenticity gives credence to the possibility of a later original creation date. It suggests that the heroic journey is viable in many eras of storytelling, leaving the original Beowulf epic as a candidate for both a contemporary creation of the time in which it is set or penned historical fiction in removed centuries. While this notion is outside the scope of this discussion, it should be noted as worthwhile to come back to. That Headley saw fit to give her new characters old names implies that she preferred there to be no confusion about whom the players represented. Casting the prototype (but non-) hero, a war veteran now police officer, Ben Wolf, as an insecure man who is consistently struggling for a sense of worthiness is possibly the most jarring (and appealing) characteristic of this work. Grendel’s mother, Dana Mills, is a former prisoner of war with a mental fragility, perhaps from PTSD or other severe trauma response. Her son, Gren, is a normal kid in terrifically unnormal circumstances – a birth resulting from a war crime rape, much like the Grendel in Morrison’s Grendel’s Mother. Headley presents Mills as the more heroic of the famous trio, Wolf being what he is and Gren, just a boy. The Herot Hall occupants attach no moral obligation to the ways they maintain status and power. 

Through this framework, Headley shows the consequences of unchecked systems of power. Instead, Headley chooses to kill off Roger, who was never the king he should have been, shrinking behind the manipulation of “the mothers.” She then empowers the othered, Dana and Grendel, and breaks the peace weaver, Willa. Most notably, she emasculates Ben. He is neither noble nor strong. Instead, she endows Dylan, the discarded prince, with courage, compassion, and loyalty. These unsustainable forces collide in unavoidable destruction. The traditional heroic ending is gone. The Othered rebel and destroy at all cost. In other words, everybody dies.

Maria Dahvana Headley, Beowulf: A New Translation, 2020

After writing The Mere Wife, Headley produced her own translation. Like Morrison, once the ability of the Shaper has proven that it can weave the story it wants to tell out of any truth given, the boomerang shifts the colored spotlight gel on the original poem itself. The resulting new translation shows that the original Shaper character was not the only Shaper capable of shifting the plot.

Headley sets out on her translation journey much like Heaney; she sought to maneuver the original text into a lyrical paraphrase. However, she makes translation choices using a markedly different linguistic lens. The introduction of this Headley Shaper insists, 

As much as Beowulf is a poem about then, it is also and always has been a poem about now and how we got here. The poem is, after all, a poem about willfully blinkered privilege about the shock and horror of experiencing discomfort when one feels entitled to luxury (49). 

This translation does much to highlight the ease at which systems of power can manipulate and move reality with the aid of truth shaping.  In fact, the character Shaper himself is presented differently in each translation.

         Meanwhile, a thane 
         of the king’s household, a carrier of 
tales, 
a traditional singer deeply schooled 
in the lore of the past, linked a new theme 
to a strict metre. The man started 
to recite with skill, rehearsing Beowulf’s 
triumphs and feats in well-fashioned lines, 
entwining his words. 
         He told what he’d heard
repeated in songs about Sigemund’s 
        exploits. (Heaney 866 – 875
)

         And a poet, 
a long-term comrade of the king, 
a man mindful of meter with a 
         memory made of myriad myths, 
began to compose The Tale of Beowulf: 
his enviable exploits, and Geatish feats, 
the sentences rhyming rapturously, 
since now the man was elite enough for 
permanence. 
The scop had opinions, and he shared them: 
compare/contrast. Stories he’d heard 
about another warrior, Sigemund. (Headley 867 – 877) 

Heaney presents the Shaper as educated, simply conveying those adventures, albeit in an entertaining way (this is a mead hall performance, after all). His function as a “carrier of tales” consists only of news conveyance. Headley, on the other hand, offers an alternate impression. Headley’s Shaper spins his “opinions” into “myths” and “tales.” This approach completely overhauls the Heaney translation, offering a wholly new perspective destroying any notion that traditional translations of Beowulf can stand alone or unchallenged. Is this a stretch? Possibly. But is not stretching a story for attention what our Shapers have done all along?

The Existence of the Shaper

            What can we learn from this voyage through history by following the evolution of the shaper? As discussed, because there is no historical proof that any part of the Beowulf epic is factual or written during the period of time in which it is set, it must be considered that the purpose was not to inform but to persuade. This persuasive motive is not restricted to Beowulf. Reimagining stories to suit the motivations of the Shaper was not a new concept, even in medieval literature. 

Catharine A. Regan’s 1988 article, “The Shaping and Reshaping of Piers Plowman: Interactions of Editors and Audiences,” examines three documented “reshapings” of William Langland’s 14th-century work, “Piers Plowman” to appeal to the audience to which it was delivered. Regan goes into great detail concerning the history and importance both of the oral storytellers and their ability to revise, explaining, 

In essence, we see that Langland reworked the medieval poem numerous times throughout its course to appeal to the receiving audience. Livingston and Sutton show where J.R.R. Tolkien also does this in his Beowulf-inspired works and commentaries. In fact, they call it, “a very particular reshaping for a very particular purpose” (2). So, while not a text examined here, it is of note that the idea of transfiguring a story is characterized by a form of shaping, as is the shaper.

The Abilities of the Shaper

Utilizing literature as a technology to create and modify the behaviors of the receivers should not be a new idea. In fact, some studies show that literature has been used as technology since approximately 2300 BCE (Fletcher 1). Today, business consultants and social psychologists study how story shaping affects corporations. Richard Brian Polley’s published his 1984 essay “The Consultant as the Shaper of Legend” for the benefit of consultants working with C-Suite level executives to improve profit and productivity through culture shifting. 

Polley’s study has found that the Shaper can manipulate forces such as desperation and cohesive culture if he offers the correct story: 

Additionally, the study has shown that both positive myths (common ideal) and negative myths (common opposition) produce similar successes. The movement of the corporate culture was the primary objective; the means by which they got there were secondary. While many find it more tasteful to find a common goal of achievement to pursue, a common enemy to subdue and conquer works just as well (Polley 160). 

This brings the conversation back around to the discrepancy between Gardner’s intentions for Grendel and the majority of critical receptions.  As mentioned previously, Livingston and Sutton’s idea that Gardner’s Grendel created a deviation in the Beowulf/hero, Grendel/monster motif is well documented. Many academics reinforce this idea.  Farrell offers that, “Gardner plays with polar extremes and tweaks his novel in order to create a more sympathetic Grendel” (938). Robert Merrill’s 1984 essay “John Gardner’s Grendel and the Interpretation of Modern Fables” cites a myriad of confirming academics. He also includes one notable dissenter – Gardner himself. Instead, Merrill’s research shows that Gardner’s intentions were the exact opposite. He intended for the alteration of perspective to create a furthering of the hopeful hero by contrasting the brooding purposelessness of Grendel (Merrill 166). Merrill argues completely and convincingly that modern critics surmise exactly opposite intentions held by Gardner in Grendel. Thus, academics entering into the conversation must acknowledge their role as another type of Shaper when approaching works. 

While I believe this argument over exactly what type of deviation occurred is clearly won based on the input of the author alone (post/structuralist, literal, close readers can suggest and discuss, but ultimately not trump, the assertions of clearly stated author intent), that is outside the scope of this particular discussion. However, that there is a deviation and that the Shaper plays a role in that deviation are central. 

Merrill again rightly identifies Garner’s own conflicting motives as a possible cause for this juxtaposition. In considering the work and the author, Merrill identifies a crossroads, so to speak, of the will of the author colliding with the will of the story; Gardner wants to both promote his worldview without the reader noticing that he is promoting his worldview (171). Thus, Gardner as the Shaper succeeds in accomplishing contradicting ideas. First, for minds like Gardner’s, Grendel’s descension into hopelessness and despair, resulting from a nihilistic view of the world, supports Gardner’s worldview that this approach to life is selfish and destructive. Conversely, for most critical readers, he creates a philosophical discussion concerning the makings of heroes and monsters, the validity and importance of a moral code, and the dire consequences probable when left unheeded. 

There can only be two choices of courses of action when presented with such a conundrum, Merrill insists: either ignore it or adopt a D.H. Lawrence approach (163-164). Although Merrill incorrectly quotes the motto from Lawrence’s Studies in Classic American Literature, corrected here as “Never trust the artist. Trust the tale,” the implication is still understood – Gardner’s view is irrelevant; it is the story that tells the truth. This seems plausible unless one realizes it is a never-ending chicken/egg reasoning. The tale is told by the artist, who cannot be trusted; therefore, the tale is sullied akin to the idea of original sin. 

Therefore, I posit that Gardner, while having the character of the Shaper in his book, becomes the meta-Shaper. He attempts to effectuate a realization of a more significant point in life via the telling of a narrative. The artist is the tale, and the tale is the artist. Moreover, if Polley’s research is to be trusted, it does not matter anyway – either interpretation of the myth received by the audience, positive or negative, will be effective in moving the perception of the masses. This creates two camps – Team Beowulf and Team Grendel. The reader is free to choose. As discussed, Polley’s study chooses Team Beowulf, more specifically the Shaper. There is a good supporting argument for that. In regards to Team Beowulf, Polley says, “If we listen to a discussion of the key management team before the formal start of an important meeting, we will almost always find the seeds of a scapegoat legend” (160).

The Supreme Shaper

            Isn’t that what we find in Heaney’s translation of Beowulf? Is Hrothgar not a king who cannot protect his people from the subjugated others, who then must create scapegoat monsters out of them to entice a hero’s intervention? As Farrell points out, “Grendel appears frequently in popular culture and continually evolves through the decades as society needs him…If it were not him, there would be another source of fear and hatred. This confirms the Shaper’s words” (Farrell 941). While I mostly agree with Farrell, I think there is a further question: Does the Shaper confirm, or does he, in fact, create? 

It is now wholly apparent that the Shaper of the story controls the myth, not the truth of the history. In her 2010 essay, “’My Name Is Beowulf’: An Anglo-Saxon Hero on the Internet,” Maria Jose Gomez-Calderon suggests, “This leads to slippery anachronisms, which do not seem to be contested, but rather welcome by modern audiences” (991). While she further argues that, “Beowulf is customized out of the canon to fit the producer/audience’s fancy,” I would counter that Beowulf was customized to create the fancy (998). The evolution of the Shaper moves and grows as audiences accept his version of events, regardless of the truth or fabrication it is created in. 

Who is this Shaper anyway? Well, he is a “they,” and like the authorship of the original poem, the actual identity of any of them in particular is virtually nonexistent. Writers refer to them in ways such as scop, poet, minstrel, and a carrier of tales. This is a peculiar fact considering the oral tradition of literature and storytelling in the time period Beowulf reportedly lived. The person (or people) responsible for spinning, weaving, and repeating the story are mentioned fewer than times one would find reasonable in both the literature and the analysis. Most notably, in an academic setting, the influence of the Shaper seems almost intentionally overlooked in many cases in an effort to facilitate the acceptance of Beowulf as canon-worthy literature.  

This is not to suggest the accolades are unwarranted in the area of art and literary beauty, only that Heaney himself recounts the minstrel’s part in the telling warrior stories whose “import is never the less central to both the historical and the imaginative world of the poem” without acknowledging the idea that the minstrel is the creator of the poem (7). Because the poem appears so one-sided, Gardner fills the gap by telling the events from a new perspective. Prior to this, the unknown clouded the truthfulness of the original tale. Now that Gardner has opened the poem to fictitious imaginings, Crichton weaves a wholly new Shaper that dives headfirst into fantastic and obvious fiction. Gomez-Calderon noted, “In the last decade of the twentieth century, the poem underwent a curious shape-shifting process that updated it to new media” (989). Encouraged by the acceptance of the public for these creative retellings, Morrison weaves a female Shaper, laying bare the patriarchal lens of the classic interpretation. Indeed, once this idea of the feminine affects and effects surfaces, yet more possibilities are considered; the conversation becomes less about hero and monster and more about humanity and those in power seeking to manipulate it. When we approach the original manuscript in this manner, a translation such as the one produced by Headley seems almost inevitable. The translation follows the same study as Heaney’s – a poetic paraphrasing rather than a direct translation – however, the feministic lens gives no quarter to the supremacy of the king or hero in the choice of interpretation. Through this transformation, Beowulf and the systems of power traditionally supported become exposed and destroyed in the literature. After all, “we all know a boy can’t daddy until his daddy is dead…Privilege is the way men prime power the world over” (Beowulf, A New Translation 19-20, 25).

Works Cited

Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi. “The Danger of a Single Story.” Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: The Danger of a Single Story | TED Talk, July 2009, https://www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_ngozi_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story. 

Chickering, Howell, et al. “Beowulf and ‘Heaneywulf.’” The Kenyon Review, vol. 24, no. 1, 2002, pp. 160–178. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/4338314. Accessed 29 Apr. 2022. 

Crichton, Michael. Eaters of the Dead. First Vintage eBooks ed., Random House, Inc., 2012. 

Farrell, Jennifer Kelso. “The Evil Behind the Mask: Grendel’s Pop Culture Evolution.” The Journal of Popular Culture, vol. 41, no. 6, 2008, pp. 934–949., https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1540-5931.2008.00558.x. 

Fletcher, Angus. Wonderworks: The 25 Most Powerful Inventions in the History of Literature. Simon & Schuster, 2022. 

Gardner, John. Grendel. Kindle ed., Vintage, 1989. 

Gomez-Calderon, Maria Jose. “‘My Name Is Beowulf’: An Anglo-Saxon Hero on the Internet.” The Journal of Popular Culture, vol. 43, no. 5, 2010, pp. 988–1003., https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1540-5931.2010.00783.x. 

Habib, Rafey. Literary Studies: A Norton Guide. W.W. Norton, 2020. 

Headley, Maria Dahvana. Beowulf–a New Translation. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2020. 

Headley, Maria Dahvana. Mere Wife: A Novel. Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2018. 

Heaney, Seamus. Beowulf: A New Verse Translation. Kindle ed., W.W. Norton, 2001. 

Kiernan, Kevin S. Beowulf and the Beowulf Manuscript. Rutgers University Press, 1984. 

Lawrence, David Herbert. Studies in Classic American Literature. Penguin Books, 1983. 

Livingston, Michael, and John William Sutton. “Reinventing the Hero: Gardner’s ‘Grendel’ and the Shifting Face of ‘Beowulf’ in Popular Culture.” Studies in Popular Culture, vol. 29, no. 1, 2006, pp. 1–16. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/23418069. Accessed 29 Apr. 2022. 

Merrill, Robert. “John Gardner’s Grendel and the Interpretation of Modern Fables.” American Literature, vol. 56, no. 2, 1984, pp. 162–180., https://doi.org/10.2307/2925751. 

Morrison, Susan Signe. Grendel’s Mother: The Saga of the Wyrd-Wife. Top Hat Books, 2015. 

Polley, Richard Brian. “The Consultant as the Shaper of Legend.” Academy of Management Proceedings, vol. 1984, no. 1, 1984, pp. 157–161., https://doi.org/10.5465/ambpp.1984.4978740. 

Trepagnier, April Kekuewa. “Shrugging at Structuralism.” Savannah, GA, 19 Aug. 2021.