Beowulf
The first time I read this epic was in college--English literature from the Norton Anthology. I hated it. Horribly. And since then I have always felt vaguely guilty about being such an Anglophile while fiercely hating Beowulf. Then a couple of years ago, I read or heard something about a new translation that was wonderful. I filed that information away in my head and thought passingly of trying the ancient epic yet again. After reading the Iliad, the Odyssey, the Aeneid and parts of Dante, I felt that perhaps I should brave Beowulf again just to see if I truly/still hated it. My mind turned to that peice of translation info I had filed away earlier. Re-delving in Tolkien added fule to my mental fire (as he loved it). But I never acted on my mental inclination. Until now. I recently picked up and finished Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf. It is amazing. Before I started, I compared his translation to the one in Norton. No comparison. If you, in the past, have slugged through the horrific prose translation found in Norton, please, please, forget it. It is more remote to the real fire in this epic that a paragraph summary would be to a Shakespearean play. This translation not only preserves the verse form of the original, but it also highlights the beauty of the ancient language. Heaney preserves the Celtic adjective-nouns like "ring-giver," "mail-shirt," and Geat-hero. The story fleaps off of the page--you can see the bard narrating the adventure before later dukes and wanderers. My guilt is gone--this epic is truly amazing: beautifully God-honouring and passionately alive. All those years I was completely wrong about Beowulf--and my fervour re: the importance of literary translating has been vindicated. Heaney's translation is real and vivid--worth every moment--unlike the "scholarly" prose that no-one should ever have been subjected to! Read it.