Posts Tagged ‘Ian Serraillier’

Serraillier: Robin and his Merry Men

July 24, 2017

Robin and his Merry Men
Ballads of Robin Hood
Ian Serraillier
(Oxford, 1969)
60 p.

I came to this book almost wholly ignorant of the Robin Hood stories, my main exposure until now having been pretty much limited to that old animated film. I usually have thought of these stories as the poor English cousins to the (originally French) tales about Arthur and the Round Table. Even if true — and I don’t know if it is true — it can, naturally, still be enjoyable to spend time with one’s poor cousins from time to time.

This book relates a set of stories, tied together by an overall arc, about Robin Hood’s dealings with Sir Richard of Lee, a woebegone knight whom Robin helps at a crucial juncture, an act of generosity which Sir Richard is, eventually, able to reciprocate.

Serraillier, to his credit and my delight, tells the story in verse. If you believe (as I fondly do) that tales of Robin Hood ought rightly to be told in song, around a fire, and under a greenwood, then this will satisfy, for it is admirably suited to the purpose. In a series of abcb quatrains (with occasional sallies at sestets), beginning with

Come, gather round and listen awhile
To a tale of the good greenwood
And a courteous yeoman, a brave outlaw
Whose name was Robin Hood.

and bounding, through field and forest, to the concluding

Meanwhile in the musty cheerless court
King Edward’s hopes grew chill.
He waited, waited … And for all I know,
He may be waiting still.

it works splendidly. The poetry is simpler than other examples of Serraillier’s verse that I’ve enjoyed, and I read sections of it, with only occasional difficulties, to my older kids (5yo and 7yo, at the time). The words are complemented by a set of illustrations; while fine, they did not particularly appeal to me.

The bad guys in the poem are the Sheriff of Nottingham (naturally) and the rich, including the bishops, archbishops, and abbots. This aspect took some explaining to the kids, who didn’t understand why a bishop should be behaving so badly, and why Robin Hood, with all the courtesy in the world, should be trying to take his money. This, combined with the forthright piety of the poem — for Robin is devoted to Our Lady, and his men express a sturdy reverence for Our Lord — took some time to untangle. But if those complications can be overcome this is a book easy to recommend. I believe it is presently out of print, but it was not too difficult to track down a reasonably priced second-hand copy.

If anyone knows of a particularly good source for further tales of Robin Hood and would like to recommend it, please do so!

Serraillier: The Clashing Rocks

June 19, 2017

The Clashing Rocks
Ian Serraillier
(Oxford, 1963)
96 p.

My ongoing, fits-and-starts project to find good versions of the classic Greco-Roman stories for my children brought me to this re-telling of the tale of Jason and the Argonauts. A few years ago I read, and mostly disliked, an adaptation of the same story by Padraic Colum, and I hoped for better things from Ian Serraillier, who in my experience is consistently good.

And he is good here. Not great, but good. The story begins with Jason’s wish to marry Medea, and her father’s tasking him with recovering the Golden Fleece before the nuptials can be celebrated. We follow him and his companions through all of their adventures, and Serraillier, unlike Colum, also tells us how badly things turned out for Jason and Medea in the end.

The problem is that there is too much story here for such a brief book. The narrative moves briskly from one episode to another, and there’s not enough space to develop the characters, or really to develop stakes. At one point Heracles and another Argonaut get left behind on an island; this is mentioned almost in passing, and we never hear from them again. New characters pop up, are named, do something, and then disappear again. I understand that this is an odyssey, and is therefore episodic by nature, but I’d have preferred a more patient rendering. Instead, I found myself reading without much investment. It’s still a fine book that I’ll recommend to my kids, but the quest for my Golden Fleece continues.

This edition includes excellent illustrations by William Stobbs.

Serraillier: The Ballad of Kon-Tiki

March 27, 2017

The Ballad of Kon-Tiki, and other verses
Ian Serraillier
(Oxford, 1952)
71 p.

When I bought this book I assumed it was intended for children, it not occurring to me that there might have been times and places where adults would read narrative poetry for their own pleasure. Nonetheless, that seems to be just what we have here: a verse account of the adventures that befell the Kon-Tiki expedition, not especially intended for children.

This expedition, if you do not know, was undertaken in the late 1940s by Thor Heyerdahl and five companions. They sailed a balsa-wood raft, “one flake of foam darker than the rest”, 7000 km across the South Pacific, from Peru to Polynesia, as an anthropological experiment. The story has been told, in prose, in Heyerdahl’s wonderful book The Kon-Tiki Expedition (which I wrote about some years ago). Everybody thought they were crazy to try it, and they sort of were, but they succeeded.

The poem begins with their preparations, with the warnings against rashness, and with the launch. We meet each of the sailors, and encounter a huge storm:

And the trade wind swept them northward
to a raging hell of waters, niagara confounded.
They were whirled about and pounded,
gulped down the ocean’s greedy throat
and spewed out again, up-ended,
checked in mid-somersault
yet still afloat.

Landlubber that I am, the thought of a storm at sea doesn’t immediately put me in mind of a throat. But I note with interest that the same connection is made by Eliot:

Also pray for those who were in ships, and
Ended their voyage on the sand, in the sea’s lips
Or in the dark throat which will not reject them…

so perhaps I’m missing something. Serraillier goes on to relate some of the more dramatic episodes in the expedition, such as the encounter with a whale shark, and the time one of the men fell overboard and seemed to be lost. But the greatest drama is reserved for the harrowing landing on the Raroia reef, a massive, bone-crushing coral reef against which they were pushed at their journey’s end, and which they, seemingly by a miracle, survived, though the Kon-Tiki was reduced to wreckage:

the cabin battered,
a house of cards collapsed on deck;
the helm in splinters, and the steering block
a mangled crock;
crossbeam and hardwood mast snapped off,
the bamboo deck ripped up and slapped
like pasted paper on the cabin wall.

There is nothing greatly profound about a poem like this, no layers into which to delve, but, on its own terms, considered simply as a narrative poem about a great and true adventure, I found it enjoyable.

*

“The Ballad of Kon-Tiki” takes up about half of this volume. The rest consists of a number of other poems, including (sans illustrations) “The Ballad of St Simeon”, which I wrote about last month; seeing it printed in sober black and white reinforces my sense that even that poem is not really intended for children. In addition we get “The Weaver Birds”, which tells an affecting fable about a bird who rescues his mate from trouble, and “The Bishop and the Devil”, a comedic poem in which a medieval French bishop uses the devil’s cunning against him, and a few shorter poems as well. Some of these I liked more than others, but I liked all of them to some extent.

Serraillier: The Ballad of St Simeon

February 23, 2017

The Ballad of St Simeonserraillier-st-simeon
Ian Serraillier
Illustrated by Simon Stern
(F. Watts, 1970)
28 p.

The subject of this poem is St Simeon Stylites, who, because “his ways were lonely and he loved God”, leaves ordinary life behind and, of all things, lives atop a pole for most of his life. He suffers exposure to the elements, and the jeers of those below, but he offers counsel to humble souls as well, and when a fearsome dragon threatens the city it is St Simeon whose prayers save the day.

In this large-format edition the poem is illustrated by Simon Stern. The drawings are charming and a bit amateurish, and clearly pitched at young children. Not so the poem itself, I dare say, which seems to me addressed to fairly accomplished readers:

Years Simeon stood, sat, slept
on his pole, communed with God and wept
for the sin-smudged city. Some, not many,
brought him their troubles and he offered
prayers for them but could do no miracle.
How he suffered!
The seasons steam-rollered him. In summer
the flaming sun made him boil
and the pole pain bubble and pop, and
when winter was a turmoil
of flying icicles, in spite of his mother-knitted clothes,
his goose skin hugged his skeleton. So cold was it
that chilblains marbled and the people’s oaths
froze on the air (thawing out in Spring
with a bang).

There are rhymes here, both at line ends and internally, but the rhythm is irregular and a bit tricky, and the poem doesn’t condescend. Somewhat to my surprise, therefore, my 5 year-old son loves it, and has had me read it to him numerous times over the past few weeks. Does that mean I’ve succeeded in finding its music?

As far as the subject matter goes, it’s a good story, and it is well told. Sometimes modern authors treating saints’ lives are tempted to skirt the religious elements, especially when there’s something as distracting as a dragon in the tale, but Serraillier doesn’t do this, and in fact the poem contains Biblical allusions that will render it partly unintelligible to readers without a decent religious formation. A similarly demanding poem, and a poem demanding in a similar way, would probably not be published today in this format. Let us raise a glass, once again, to oldish books.

Children’s books: here be dragons

September 26, 2016

Beowulf the Warrior
Ian Serraillier
48 p.

A number of authors have distilled Beowulf into a version intended for children, but this is the only one of which I’m aware that does so in verse. Serraillier condenses the original 3800 lines of the poem into about 800 lines of blank verse. All of the essential plot elements of the story are included, and quite vividly depicted. Overall, the writing would be challenging for young children, but I think would be suitable for roughly ages 10 and up. This edition is complemented by interesting illustrations by “Severin”.

***

St. George and the Dragon
Michael Lotti
(CreateSpace, 2014)
162 p.

This short novel tells the story of Marcellus, a Roman soldier who encounters a fierce dragon lurking on the outskirts of his father’s estate. The story has a two-fold motion: the conflict with the dragon gradually escalates, on one hand, and on the other Marcellus encounters Christians and is gradually converted to the new faith (taking the baptismal name George). The two arcs come together in a final battle between George and the dragon — but of course we knew that would happen.

It’s a first novel for Michael Lotti, and quite a good one, best suited, I would estimate, for children aged about 8-12. The writing is not as supple and convincing as one gets from the most accomplished children’s writers, but the characters are well developed and the story is an interesting one. I would like to know how much of the material comes from the legends about St George, and how much was Lotti’s own creation. For me the most engaging aspect of the book concerned Marcellus’ encounters with the Christians, and especially with an itinerant Christian bishop named Agathon; there is a good deal of inspiring catechesis packed into those conversations, but I never felt that I was being preached to. I will certainly encourage my kids to read the book when they’re a little older.

***

The Hobbit
J.R.R. Tolkien
(HarperCollins, 2007) [1937]
300 p.

This was my third or fourth time through this book, but my first with the kids, to whom I read it aloud. I have not a great deal to a say about it, apart from reporting that it was a huge success with the older kids (now aged 5 and 7). Actually, the experience of reading it to them was enriching for me too; I do not recall enjoying it on previous readings as much as I did this time.

It is always amusing to see the light-hearted, gee-whiz attitude this book takes to the One Ring, which we know will later prove to be so doom-laden. I used to surmise that Tolkien had not yet worked out the Ring’s significance at the time of writing, but this time I noticed that he returns to the Ring at the very end, emphasizing that it was a secret ring and that Bilbo never spoke of it to anyone. This inclines me to suspect that Tolkien did know its significance after all.