Re in eterno (1940)

Reading T. H. White’s Arthurian quartet three-quarters of a century after the appearance of the first volume, and more than half-century after the completed work came out, leaves a mixed impression. In part this is no doubt due to its plot and premises being mined by both Broadway and Disney, but the reasons lie to a greater degree in the work itself. White’s fascination with medieval times, his meticulous descriptions of falconry, armoury, and daily life, have aged better than his preoccupation with Freudian explanations of behavior and the threat of fascism. His willful anachronism, resolutely placing Arthur in the 12th century, is clever, both an homage to classic recounts of the Arthur cycle by Geoffrey of Monmouth and Thomas Malory, who makes a cameo appearance in the closing pages of the book, as well as a fitting reminder that this is myth-making on a grand scale.
The quadrilogy reads as if its intended reader ages in the course of its development. The first volume, The Sword in the Stone, reads very much as children’s literature, provided the child is precocious in a mid-century way. The subsequent volumes, touching on incest, lovers’ triangles, homosexuality, sadism and the persistence of war, seem aimed to an older reader, perhaps young adult upward.
White’s narrative skill comes to his aid particularly when the plot threatens to languish through over-familiarity. Thus the account of the death of Uther Pendragon, leaving a vacant throne, is told indirectly and humourously by its use of the reactions of the characters White has established over the course of the first book; this leads to the tale of extracting the stone-fast sword, told in a manner that is both light-hearted and magical. His other narrative tour-de-force is at the culmination of book four, when the reader, knowing all too well how all turns out, most fears boredom. Rueful and dark, the final chapters make compelling reading.
Yet White aimed at more than telling a good story. He was taking a position as storm clouds gathered over Europe in the 1930s. Merlin’s schooling of the young Wart by living as an animal among animals is meant to make a point about modern war and peace. Arthur mounts the throne, determined to harness might in the service of right. Yet in the end, a broken Arthur, the puppet of the Orkney faction, seems to portray the opposite, that the rule of law is flawed, in the end helpless in the face of resolute evil.
While too dated to be essential reading, it’s been a good read. ( )

I can’t give this a star rating because I read it so long ago. I do remember liking it a lot and would like to read it again at some point.

DNF at page 53.

This was all a bit Disney for me to begin with, but the decision to DNF came when I hit the THIRD casually racist comment about Native Americans. This is an Arthurian legend set in motherfucking England. What kind of effort of will does one need to slam Native Americans repeatedly in it?

Anyway, there are loads of Arthur retellings out there. I'm moving on.

(NOTE: According to another reviewer, there's an n-word in a rant by a *checks notes* deranged bird later in the book. Why??!!) ( )

In summary, this is a wonderful, moving collection of books, well worth reading in sequence in their entirety.
The Sword in the Stone is a fantastic children’s story, with plenty of excellent nature writing and humour. The middle books are readable, but workmanlike; however, they are necessary for the overall tragic arc of the stories, which is brilliantly achieved in The Candle in the Wind.
Well worth its place on James Mustich’s 1,000 books to read before you die list.

The book is divided into four parts:
• The Sword in the Stone (1938), detailing the youth of Arthur
This is a jolly, humorous story, which to my surprise is fairly closely followed by the Disney film (as I recall it from years ago), but which also includes other delightful tales, such as the adventure with Robin ‘ood (Wood) and Little John to rescue Friar Tuck from Morgan le Fay.
The book is set in a legendary time, after the Norman conquest of England (1066), whilst the Saxons (earlier invaders of England) were still identifiable, so perhaps 1100 to 1350 (twelfth century, or whenever it was, and in a remote castle on the border of the Marches (English Welsh border)), whilst chivalry was the highest ideal and Uther Pendragon (1066-1216!) was king.
White writes in an easy but verbose style, including many details of the English countryside and chivalry which deepen the story, making it a richer tale, but perhaps making it difficult to read fluidly for a modern reader. However as an older British reader, the book brilliantly conjures up the simple heroic English history that I was taught at school. This is a story of an England that never existed, except in our folk memory, although the deeds of chivalry are now mimicked by the jousting tournaments held occasionally in the summer at English castles and stately homes for the delight of tourists and children.
As first published in 1938, the humorous horror of being transformed into an ant, hearing Antland, Antland Over All being sung and lectures about war, patriotism and the economic situation, would have very pointed contemporary references. This lightly hidden political criticism is immediately followed by an approving description (without apparent irony) of the feudal system and the farm labourers (villeins as they were called) with their freedom of spirit liking their servitude in this medieval rural idyll, compared favourably to town workers.
It is fun to try and work out the hymn or song tunes to match the rhythm of White’ verses included from time to time, which is easy with the Battle Hymn of the (US) Republic.
The countryside and nature writing, especially about the white fronted geese, is wonderful and accurate as well (lyo-lyok is the slightly yodelling call they give), although necessarily anthropomorphic for the purposes of Wart’s education. I am an amateur ornithologist, so all the bird descriptions appealed to me.
However, Wart’s animal education ends with the badger: ”Which did you like best,” he asked, “the ants or the wild geese?”
The winter journey to London following Uther Pendragon’s death is followed, briefly, by a tournament of the knights of England, and Wart’s pulling of the sword from the stone, aided by his friendship with the animals.

I really enjoyed this book, familiar as it might be in outline from the eponymous Disney film, due to its humour, brilliantly descriptive writing and close observation of nature.

• The Queen of Air and Darkness (1939), originally published separately in somewhat different form as The Witch in the Wood
Well, here’s a thing, this second book, which was published separately in somewhat different form as The Witch in the Wood originally, has no witch in the woods in The Once and Future King! I cannot cheaply come by a copy of the original 1939 book of that title, but it has been rewritten substantially, as it is only half the length of the original.
This is a darker book in alternating chapters, which:
• lays the groundwork that explains Igraine’s daughter’s intended revenge for Uther Pendragon’s forceful taking of Igraine, Countess of Cornwall, with slapstick comedy from King Pelinore; and
• Arthur’s triumph as king over a northern rebellion, with the reader being prepared for Merlyn’s departure.
White develops these two storylines:
• the expected story of King Arthur battling against the rebellion of the Gaels (the old people, Picts, Cornish, Welsh and Scottish, also called Celts) against the Gauls (Normans and Saxons); and
• the story of Igraine’s four Orkney grandsons: Gawaine, Agravaine, Gaheris and Gareth.
Although abounding in surviving prehistoric and later monuments, it is difficult now to consider the Orkneys as a leading medieval kingdom if you look at the small size of the islands off the northern coast of mainland Scotland. However after the initial viking raids, it became the centre of a wide ranging seafaring kingdom which stretched south through the western isles of Scotland to the Isle of Man and Dublin.

Although it might be construed as condescending, I love White’s use of anachronistic, but appropriate, language to conjure up the various characters, particularly in his choice of the occasional archaic word. White uses Halidome, which apparently means a sacred place (Middle English from Old English hāligdōm, from hālig holy + -dōm -dom) and Shillelagh (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shillelagh_(club), where I remember the threat of I’ll give you shillelagh from my youth).

Overall this book was less satisfying for me, as it reads as a prologue (much more so than The Sword in the Stone) to the coming tragedy, and it is explicit at this stage that it will be a predestined tragedy, with apparently no free will to alter events, even with Merlyn’s foresight.

• The Ill-Made Knight (1940), dealing mainly with the character of Lancelot
We have moved forward some years from the second volume in the quartet, The Queen of Air and Darkness, and this is mainly a story of Lancelot, the eponymous ill-made knight.
White assumes familiarity with Malory’s fifteenth century story of Arthur, Le Morte d’Arthur, which may be acceptable, as modern Western readers are probably aware of the general outline of the Arthur story, but I was concerned that it would reduce White’s storytelling. By the end of the book, I thought that it reduced the effort to explain character development for Arthur, who chooses to ignore Merlyn’s warnings about Lancelot and Guinever, and a general lack of character development for Guinever, but the approach worked as an portrayal of Lancelot.
The development of Lancelot’s feelings (and Guinever’s) are explored in depth, but mainly by the author, rather than novelistically, and Lancelot’s feelings gain some depth, especially his feeling for holiness.
However, the author uses time jumps of two years, and then fifteen years, with little development of Arthur, Lancelot and Guinnever. I was unconvinced by this passage of time without emotional development in narrative terms, but White makes it work in terms of the legend, so that I eventually accepted (in storytelling terms) the tragedy as fated, although earlier in the book I didn’t expect to be carried by White’s retelling of the legend at this point.
There are a few chapters joyously recounting the adventures of the knights as they return, unsuccessfully, from the quest for the holy grail, railing against the pacifist, vegetarian, chaste and holy Galahad and Bors. White’s use of dialect to recreate these stories is comic genius, working really well for me, although it will not be to all tastes.
Overall, I felt the book too mannered, lacking emotional involvement, as it felt like an analysis by White of legendary Lancelot’s character, and I don’t think I would have read this as a stand-alone book.

• The Candle in the Wind, first published in the composite edition, 1958
A preordained tragedy, seemingly without dramatic tension over its conclusion, other than as to the “how” element.
Arthur, Guinever and Lancelot have reached old age and move towards their dooms with heavy inevitability, caught by the power of the law, that Arthur has created during his reign, and the “sin” of Mordred.
I was completely unconvinced by Arthur’s statement that he had had all babies when Mordred was born put in a boat and cast adrift. This appeared as a deus ex machina to justify Mordred’ hatred and totally out of character for Arthur.
But then the book changes.
And then I was fortunate, as literary magic happened for me.
I was reading this mannered tragedy, and it was like White changes what I had read.
The story all becomes an epic tragedy of ideas, incredibly sad. Doomed, preordained, fated, but epically so.
Wow, he had me here at the last, blubbering, at the ideals wrecked by humanity. A very humane, wonderful retelling of the familiar Arthur legend.
Masterful and moving.

A final part called The Book of Merlyn (written 1941, published 1977) was published separately following White's death.
This book, which expands upon the events at the end of The Candle in the Wind, consists largely of a philosophical discussion between Arthur, Merlyn and animals from The Sword in the Stone regarding Man and his place in the world.
Although written in 1941, it was not published until 1977, after White’s death, and much of the best writing (about the ants and the white fronted geese) has been incorporated into The Sword in the Stone in 1958 when it was published as The Once and Future King.
There are several extra chapters on the white fronted geese which enjoyably fill out this story, and at the end there is a masterful quoting from William Blake’s Jerusalem, which are the words to a British hymn with music by Parry, which brilliantly encapsulates the argument that it is the striving towards the goal that is important, not the goal, which is unattainable without a loss of humanity.
I am glad to have read this immediately after The Once and Future King, but I think it does need to be read after, as it is more of a philosophical summation of the ideas in the earlier books. ( )

I read this book for high school and kept that copy for all these years without rereading it because I loved it so much that I didn’t want to spoil it by reading it again. Time changes things. But I’ve done more rereading this year than most years because there’s something comforting about knowing what to expect in a story, even if you don’t know how you’ll feel about it each time. I don’t know. This book is sad and this isn’t a great time to make yourself sad. But I also find it hopeful in the idea that we can keep trying. Even if the good things we build don’t last and we watch the younger generations fight the same battles. There’s still worth in those good things and in those good moments. The people who had better lives because of it matter. It all matters because if it doesn’t then there’s no point to any of it. That’s what I still take away from this book. They were people and they mattered, even if things still fell apart for them. ( )